10

AND SO WE APPROACH THE END OF THE STORY. IF YOU’RE LOOKING for a happy ending full of forgiveness and acceptance, then I warn you now, you’re in for a disappointment.

I got home from France on a Wednesday. We were off to Hampshire on Friday afternoon for the wedding on Saturday, all staying at the nice country hotel where the ceremony and reception were taking place. That left me Thursday evening to see Adrian and announce whatever decision I had come to.

As it happened, I didn’t do much of the talking. Adrian asked questions, to which I gave answers. All I had decided in the intervening hours was that I would be as truthful as possible, even if that meant scuppering our nascent relationship. Better to start my new life with a clean sheet and no lies. I’ve had enough of lies. Look where they’ve got me.

The weather was still awful. We should have been sitting outside in a nice beer garden, rather than cooped up in a gloomy pub interior, seeking out a table in the least populated part of the room, which of course was right by the toilets. It was a characterless chain pub, which at least had the advantage of no music.

We were both in our work clothes: suit and tie for me, tracksuit and trainers for Adrian. We both knew what was underneath those clothes. We’d seen each other naked, and we’d exchanged photographs. We knew we were on the brink of something that we both wanted. I was ready, however much of a mess my life was.

Adrian, it appeared, had reservations.

‘I need to know what’s going on in your life, Joe. I get the feeling you haven’t been telling me the truth.’

My first impulse was to laugh; when did I last tell the truth to anyone, including myself? Little partial truths, yes, they leak out from time to time, usually in order to get me what I want—but the whole truth? All about Joe? The kind of thing you tell to a trusted friend, a partner? Well, how long was it since I’d had one of those? I stopped telling the truth to Angie the first time I wanked over a picture of a cock on the Internet. I stopped telling the truth to Stuart, my closest-ever male friend, my soul brother, the morning after my stag night. My adult life has been a series of lies. Lying to wife, children, friends. Lying to my sexual partners without a second thought, knowing exactly what to say to get what I want. Yeah, I’m straight, I’m just doing this while my wife’s away, let’s fuck and suck and forget each other, secure in the knowledge that we’re both liars who neither give nor deserve respect.

I took a deep breath, quelled the hysteria, and said ‘OK. Here goes.’ Don’t do it, Joe! Lie to him! Get him into bed! ‘My wife and I are leading separate lives; she’s seeing someone else, but we haven’t officially split up yet.’

‘I see.’ He sounded despondent.

‘My son is eighteen and still lives at home. He’ll be starting university in October if he gets the right grades. My daughter is at university and doesn’t come home much anymore.’

‘Do they know about you?’

‘No.’

‘None of them? Your wife?’

‘No. I haven’t told her.’

‘Why not?’

Good question, Adrian. Why haven’t I told Angie that I’m gay, that our whole marriage was founded on a lie? ‘Because the opportunity never came up. I was going to.’ No, Joe, that’s not true. ‘I wanted to. But then I found out she was having an affair and I just thought, well, it’s none of her business anymore.’

‘So this is all a secret then.’

Oh God, it sounded so pathetic, so sordid. ‘Yes.’

‘Right.’

Adrian took a drink, scratched his chin, looked around the pub with his china-blue eyes.

‘And what about your holiday?’

‘I’ve just come back from France.’

‘Yes.’ He paused, waiting for more. I didn’t know what to say. ‘With a friend, you said.’

‘Yes.’

He finally looked at me, his eyes full of disappointment.

‘OK, if you really want to know, I went with a guy I’ve been seeing. His name’s Graham. He’s very wealthy, and he has a house overlooking St. Tropez. He offered to fly me out there for a few days, and I was so fed up with things at home that I said yes. It was a mistake.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he’s a dickhead.’

‘Right.’

‘I’m not going to see him again, if that’s what you want to know. It’s not a . . . ’ I was going to say ‘it’s not a relationship,’ but that sounded so hollow even I couldn’t spit it out. Of course it was a relationship—based on sex and money, but still a relationship. Graham liked me enough to want to have me around. Perhaps he thought that tossing a couple of French rent boys my way would keep me content. He seemed disappointed when I walked out. Another person I’ve let down. I wouldn’t add Adrian to that list. ‘I found out that he uses drugs and practises unsafe sex.’

Adrian drank, but for the first time he looked as if he cared about me. ‘Oh. I see. Go on.’

‘I did things I thought I’d never do.’

‘You took drugs?’

‘Yes.’

‘You fucked without a condom?’

‘No. But he did. Someone else. And he’d been fucking me.’

‘I see. Like you said, he’s a dickhead.’

I was at a loss for words. Had I ruined everything?

‘Anything else you need to tell me, Joe?’

‘Need to tell you? What do you mean?’

‘If we’re going to be friends, we have to be honest with each other.’

‘Friends?’

‘Lovers then. Whatever. I can’t stand another disaster. I’d rather be single.’

‘And I’d rather be honest. So if you really want to know, I’ve been screwing around. I’ve been meeting guys off the Internet. It started off as a way of finding out if this was something I really wanted to do.’ I felt a little clink in my mind—the sound of a penny dropping. ‘Although I think I knew that already, from the first moment you touched me that day when I hurt my neck.’

‘Yeah.’ He smiled—at last. ‘I thought so.’

‘But I never thought in a million years that you’d be interested.’

‘You thought I was straight?’

‘I suppose so. I don’t know. I was confused.’

‘So you had to have sex with lots of strangers to find out.’

Fuck me, he wasn’t pulling any punches. ‘Yeah, that’s about the size of it.’

‘Right.’ He watched me, nodding his head, and then burst out laughing. ‘Well, I certainly can’t accuse you of hiding anything.’

‘None of it meant anything.’ That was a lie, of course; there were many times when I’d wondered if I felt something—Simon from the sauna, for instance. Beautiful young Pascal. Even Graham. ‘It was just sex.’

‘OK,’ said Adrian. ‘And what about us? Will that be just sex?’

‘I don’t know. How can I tell?’

He shrugged. ‘I can tell.’

‘You mean you . . . ’

‘Yes. I like you—a lot. I always have. And when we had that drink and then those text messages . . . I’ve been thinking about nothing else.’

His face was red, his eyes wet. I wanted so badly to kiss him. ‘So why don’t we go somewhere?’

He put his hand over mine and squeezed. ‘No. Not tonight.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you have to do something for me.’

‘OK. What?’

‘Will you do it?’

‘Depends what it is.’

‘That’s not good enough. I want to know that you’d do anything for me.’

‘Fucking hell. Go on then. Try me.’

‘Here goes.’ He settled himself in his chair and counted on his fingers. ‘Number one. You will go and get yourself tested.’

‘What, like for . . . ’

‘For HIV, yes. And everything else while you’re at it.’

‘OK. Next?’

‘Number two. You will do the right thing by your wife and family.’

‘Jesus, I already pay for everything.’

‘Uh-uh. Not good enough. I mean you will tell them what’s happening, and you will make a proper break with your wife.’

‘Christ. Number three?’

‘You will stop fucking around.’

‘For how long?’

‘A month. We’ll meet again exactly one month from now, and you will tell me how you’ve got on. In the meantime, we can communicate by text or email, or we can talk on the phone, but no sexy stuff.’

‘OK.’ I drank and thought about it and came to a conclusion. ‘I suppose a quick blowjob in the toilet is out of the question then?’

‘Very funny. Now shake my hand like a gentleman.’

We shook. ‘All right then, Adrian. We have a deal.’

We embraced as we left the pub, and I felt the muscles in his shoulders and arms, felt the heat from his body against mine, and then we went our separate ways.

Holly’s wedding could not have been more perfect. The sun shone, birds sang, flowers bloomed, and everyone gathered in a beautiful old hotel in rural Hampshire to celebrate the union. Holly was still on the large side, but not unattractively so, and her dress was a masterpiece of containment and concealment. Her husband was a nice-looking posh boy called Toby, who worked for the family property development business, and I suspect his folks coughed up for the wedding. We exchanged about six words during the course of the day. The best man and the ushers looked like part of a rugby team, which indeed they were, and there was a lot of hearty shouting and horseplay as the afternoon wore on and the booze flowed. Nicky looked amazing, outshining the bride, although I suppose, as her father, I would think that. She was with Paul, the boyfriend we’d been hearing about but had never yet met. He shook my hand and looked me in the eye and tried to impress me. ‘Any minute now, he’ll call you sir,’ whispered Angie, which made us both laugh like school kids. Under different circumstances, I’d have been happy for him to call me sir—he was a tidy little package, black hair, big brown puppy-dog eyes, stubble, broad shoulders—but even I wasn’t about to try and corner him in the gents.

Yes, a perfect day, and we were the perfect family; even Alex came out of his shell and charmed a few friends and relatives. Everyone was happy and relaxed and glad to see each other. Except me.

Why? Because just as we were about to go into the garden room for the marriage ceremony itself, I saw Stuart.

Stuart, my best friend and best man, my brother in all but name, and for one night only, my lover, forgotten, blocked out, dropped as soon as I sobered up and walked down the aisle. Another wedding, twenty years ago, Stuart in a morning suit, his face pale and tense, putting on an act, but I could see it in his eyes, the desperation, the longing, the crushing knowledge that everything was over.

And here he was again, like a double exposure, walking into the present out of the past. A bad dream bubbling up from a guilty conscience? I turned away, hoping he hadn’t seen me, but when I looked back, there he was, very real, flesh and blood, twenty years older and none the worse for it, balder, more lines of course, but he still looked as if he could run a marathon without getting out of breath. I wanted to run away, but there was nothing for it—I had to act normal before anyone noticed me being weird.

‘Stuart!’ I advanced toward him with outstretched hands. ‘Good to see you, buddy!’ Ah yes, I was still good old Joe Heath, confident, successful, relaxed. ‘It’s been too long.’ I went on in the same vein, trying to think why on earth he had materialized at this wedding. How had he found out about it? And then I remembered—something else I had blocked out quite successfully—Stuart and Jackie, Angie’s sister, the mother of the bride, were great friends back in the day, they had even dated for a while, and we used to joke about a double wedding. Nothing came of it, nothing was said, and the romance turned into a friendship. When Holly was born, Stuart was her godfather. Of course he was. I was at the christening. That was before I married Angie. Before everything changed. Before people started asking me, ‘What happened to Stuart? You used to be such great friends,’ and I became a master of the evasive reply. Busy at work, busy being a father, we drifted apart.

‘You must be very proud,’ I said, a little too late.

‘You’d forgotten, hadn’t you?’ There was a twinkle in Stuart’s eye that I hadn’t seen for a long time, a confidence that he never had when we were kids. I was the confident one.

‘No, of course not.’

‘Yeah, right. Whatever you say.’ He was smiling and arching his eyebrow. ‘Angie here? The kids?’

‘Yes. They’re not kids anymore, though.’

‘I know they’re not. I’ve seen Nicky a few times.’

‘What?’

‘When she comes down to visit Holly. There’s been a hell of a lot of wedding preparation, you know.’

‘She never mentioned it.’

Stuart shrugged. ‘Why would she?’

‘Well . . . ’ But of course he was right. Nicky probably doesn’t even know that Stuart and I were friends. She was only two when we married, and after that his name wasn’t mentioned much. Maybe Jackie or even Angie explained the connection, but that kind of stuff doesn’t mean much to kids. Stuart would just be a friend of the family, Holly’s godfather, someone who gives you presents.

‘Anyway, it’s great to see you. You weren’t around last night.’ There had been a big pre-wedding dinner at the hotel at which Mr. and Mrs. Heath played their allotted parts.

‘I was working. And I don’t live that far away. I just drove down this morning.’

‘Oh.’ Why did my heart sink? ‘And I suppose you’re driving straight back when it’s over.’

‘No way. I intend to toast the happy couple properly. I’m staying here.’

‘Right, right.’ My palms were sweating. ‘That’s great.’

‘It’s OK, Joe.’ That confident half-smile again. ‘I’m not going to jump on you.’

I laughed my bantering barroom laugh. Loud enough to make heads turn. Stuart looked slightly startled and had the good manners to change the conversation.

‘I’d love to say hi to Angie.’ Very clever, Stuart. Reassuring me that my wife comes first, that I’m safely married. If you only knew. ‘Where is she?’

‘Come on.’ I grabbed his arm. ‘Let’s find her.’

It wasn’t difficult; she was with Jackie and their mother Jennifer, my mother-in-law. ‘Look what the cat dragged in!’ I said, beaming like the happiest man in the world. ‘Sure you want this kind of riffraff at your daughter’s wedding, Jackie? I can chuck him out, you know.’ The laugh again, too loud, but I couldn’t help it.

‘Well well well,’ said Angie, throwing her arms round Stuart. ‘How wonderful to see you. My God, you’re still as handsome as ever. The one that got away, eh, Jackie?’

‘Oh, we’re still good friends.’ Jackie took Stuart’s free arm, and the sisters shared him. ‘Aren’t we, darling?’

‘We sure are.’

And we all reflected on the fact that Jackie’s friendship with Stuart lasted a lot longer than her marriage to Dave, Holly’s father, whom she divorced after years of drama and drinking, and was much happier for it. Dave was here, all eighteen stone of him, keeping a diplomatic distance from his ex-wife and trying—at dinner last night anyway—to stay sober. The thought crossed my mind that maybe Stuart stepped in when Dave stepped out, and that there was more to this lasting friendship than met the eye. Was Stuart my de facto brother-in-law? Would we all be getting together for another wedding in the months or years to come? And if so, what did my stag night mean? Two guys, pissed, getting something out of their systems, that was all, and we could have remained friends, there was no threat, nothing to fear.

I tried to catch Stuart’s eye, but suddenly everyone was on the move, and we took our places for the ceremony. Angie, Alex, Paul and I sat together on the bride’s side; Stuart was in the front row, so all I could see was the back of his head, which didn’t give much away. Nicky played her part to perfection. Holly and Toby looked radiant of course. There were readings and songs, and someone played the cello, and it was only when Angie nudged me in the ribs that I realized I was so deep in contemplation that I wasn’t paying the slightest attention.

‘Wakey wakey, Joe,’ she whispered. ‘You’re at a wedding.’

‘Sorry, I was miles away. Thinking how fast they grow up.’

Angie looked into my eyes, trying to read me. It was the nearest we’d come to real communication for a long time. She even put her hand on mine. Sadness, affection, regret . . . but it was time for us to part. We both knew it, and that little squeeze of the hand sealed the deal. We can do this nicely. Nobody needs to get hurt. We’ll move on as a family—separate but still together when it matters. All of us growing up—kids, adults—moving on, changing.

Nothing lasts. Except, apparently, Stuart’s relationship with Jackie.

Have I been in the dark for the last twenty years, while things go on in the rest of the world that nobody bothers to tell me about? Am I like one of those jungle veterans who emerges blinking into the light of day decades after the war has ended? Have I been so obsessed with my own problems that I’ve lost everything that matters? Family and friends thrown away for a few feet of anonymous cock. A couple of fantasy affairs that evaporate like mirages. Why do I think Adrian is any different? Just because he didn’t roll over on the first or second date? Because he’s playing hard to get? Maybe that’s his thing, just like Bill’s thing was getting me to dress in women’s knickers and Simon’s thing was giving out fake phone numbers. Graham likes fucking rent boys. Michael picks up men in the gym. Pete takes photos. And so on and so on. Joe tells everyone he’s married because he gets more sex that way. Everyone’s got a gimmick, including Adrian. It means nothing. This is reality—people who know each other, love each other, go to weddings and christenings and funerals, and take care of each other when their marriages fail. Parents and children, brothers and sisters, old, trusted friends who don’t let you down.

I wanted to cry. Everything was over. That final squeeze of the hand—and then let go. You’re on your own, mate. You’ve betrayed everyone in this room—but look, they don’t need you. They’ve got each other. They gave up on you a long time ago.

We threw confetti and drank champagne and chatted on the terrace while the happy couple posed for pictures. A smile froze on my face until my jaw ached.

‘Thanks for looking after me in there.’ said Paul, Nicky’s boyfriend, tie loosened, a glass in his hand. ‘I don’t really know anyone.’ Nicky was off somewhere being photographed with the bride and groom.

‘That’s OK. It’s good to meet you at last. How long have you and Nicky been together?’

‘Just over a year.’

‘And you’re at university with her?’

‘Yeah. I’m in my third year, studying marketing.’

‘OK.’ What do you say to that?

‘Nicky tells me you’re in software.’

‘Kind of.’

‘I’d like to talk to you about that some time. It’s the side of marketing that I’m really interested in.’ His big, wide brown eyes and eager expression made up for the dullness of his conversation. ‘I mean, it’s the future, right?’

‘I suppose so. I’ve been doing it for nearly twenty years.’

‘Right.’ He sipped his drink, scratched his chin, pulled his tie down further. Plumes of hair billowed out from within. Hairy little fucker, I thought, before I checked myself. Daughter’s boyfriend. Potential son-in-law. Incest. And you promised Adrian.

‘What else are you interested in?’ I asked, trying to make small talk.

‘Martial arts. I do kick-boxing.’

‘Oh right. I’d better behave myself then.’ Well, that one just slipped out.

Paul smiled. He had a very attractive smile, very white teeth. ‘You look as if you can take care of yourself. Nicky tells me that you’re very fit.’

‘I do my best.’

‘You look in great shape, man. I hope I’m half as fit when I’m in my forties.’ He sipped again and glanced around.

Was he flirting with me?

Of course not. This is party bullshit. It means nothing.

‘What do you do? I mean for training.’

‘Weights, circuits, bit of cardio stuff.’

‘Great, great. We should get a workout together. There’s a gym here, right?’

‘Yeah, but . . . ’

‘I really fancy a bit of exercise.’ He adopted a martial arts stance, hands up to his face, and spilled champagne on his lapel.

‘Easy, tiger.’ I gave him a tissue. ‘Let’s not peak too early.’

‘Sorry. I’m not really pissed. I’m just nervous.’ He was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. ‘This is the first time I’ve met Nicky’s family.’

‘I know what it’s like. You want to make a good impression. Don’t worry. Just be yourself.’ You’re fucking adorable, you little puppy. Come up to my room and let me fuck your hairy little arse. ‘I remember the first time I met Jennifer. Nicky’s grandma. I was fucking terrified.’

‘Really? I find that hard to believe. You seem so confident.’

‘Don’t let appearances fool you. I’m as much of a nervous wreck as the next man.’

‘You hide it well.’ He was staring at me with those big wet brown eyes again, as if I held the key to all wisdom.

‘We all hide things, Paul.’ Like I’m going to hide my dick in your mouth. ‘Some of us better than others.’

‘Yeah, right, yeah.’ The conversation was making him unaccountably nervous. His glass was empty. ‘It’s really good to meet you, anyway, Mr. Heath.’

‘Please. Joe.’

‘Yeah, yeah, cool.’ He shook my hand too eagerly. ‘I’d better go and, you know, find Nicky.’

‘Rescue her from all those ushers,’ I said. ‘She’s the best-looking girl here.’

But he was out of earshot before I’d delivered this pearl. Strange boy. Deeply fuckable, but a nervous nutcase. Before I had time to mull it over, I felt a hand on my elbow and heard a voice in my ear.

‘Hello again.’

Stuart of course, looking perfectly at ease, more a part of the family than I was. ‘Hey.’

‘He seems like a nice guy. Your prospective son-in-law.’

‘I don’t know if it’s that serious.’

‘Really? I got the impression it was. But of course, you know your daughter better than I do.’

Sarcastic bastard, trying to wind me up. Or was he? Perhaps he took things at face value and believed that the Heaths were just what they appeared to be, a close-knit, loving family, Mum, Dad, and two loving children. ‘I’m the last to know anything in my family.’

‘Everything OK, Joe?’

‘Of course it’s OK.’ Shit, that sounded defensive. Another fake laugh didn’t help. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’

Stuart smiled. ‘You tell me. A lot’s happened since we last saw each other.’

‘That’s true. I’m sorry, the time just seemed to get away from me.’

‘It’s OK, Joe. You don’t have to explain. I understand. We all went in different directions, didn’t we?’

‘Not you and Jackie, apparently.’

‘That’s true, we’re still . . . .’ He stopped in mid-sentence, made a noise in the back of his throat, and then said, ‘Wait a minute. You don’t think Jackie and I are . . . oh God, you do. Wow, that really is . . . oh shit.’ He rubbed the top of his bald head. ‘That is priceless. Good old Joe, jumping to the wrong conclusion.’

‘I don’t see what’s so bloody funny.’

‘No, I don’t suppose you do. Look, this isn’t the time or place. Let’s have a proper catch-up later on this evening when Holly and Toby have left. Think you can give me half an hour?’

‘Of course I can.’

‘There’s no of course about it, is there? It’s more than you’ve given me in the last twenty years.’

‘Point taken.’

‘Sorry. I don’t mean to be a bitch. But there’s a lot to tell, and once I get started. . . . Oh, look, here she is. The most beautiful bride of this or any other year.’ Holly ran up to us, cheeks flushed, and grabbed Stuart by the hand.

‘Come on, godfather! I want you in this one.’

She dragged him off to join a group shot. She didn’t ask Uncle Joe.

The champagne and sunshine were starting to affect me, and so, feeling emotional and somewhat sidelined, I found a quiet corner of the garden and phoned Adrian. I was expecting to leave a message on voicemail, something like ‘I’m being a good boy, and I’m counting the days until I see you,’ but to my surprise, he picked up on the first ring.

‘Joe!’

‘Hi Adrian. Just wanted to hear your voice.’

‘It’s great to hear from you. I wasn’t sure if you were pissed off with me.’ There was a nervous laugh in his voice.

‘Of course I’m not. I just rang to say that I’m at the wedding, and I’m behaving myself.’

‘You haven’t seduced the best man then?’

‘No.’ I thought of Paul, his big, imploring eyes, his hairy chest. ‘And in case you were wondering, I haven’t stood up and made a big speech to everyone about how I’m leaving my wife for another man. At least, not yet. Couple more drinks and maybe I will.’

‘And are you?’

‘What?’

‘Leaving your wife for another man.’

‘I certainly intend to.’

‘Anyone I know?’

‘Just some bloke I picked up at the gym.’ There was no one around, but I still lowered my voice. ‘He gave me a massage and made me as stiff as a pole.’

‘He sounds like trouble.’

‘Oh, believe me, he is. Big trouble.’ My cock was getting hard, and I stuck my hand in my pocket to adjust it. ‘I wish you were here, Adrian.’

‘Me too.’ I could tell he was horny from the way he was breathing. ‘So are you obeying the rules?’

‘Yes.’

‘Really?’

He didn’t need to know that I hadn’t yet been tested or had any kind of conversation with Angie. Those things would happen. At least I hadn’t fucked anyone. ‘Yes, really.’

‘Good. I need to know you’re sticking to your side of the bargain, so that I have the strength to stick to mine.’

‘Meaning what?’

‘Meaning that I don’t get a cab to your house in the middle of the night and break into your bedroom.’

‘I’ll book the cab for you if you like.’

We both laughed, and then there was silence. Just breathing. Both of us hard, wanting each other. Who would speak first?

Me, apparently. ‘I love you, Adrian.’

Silence again, then ‘Yeah.’

‘OK, I get it. I need to earn the right to say that.’

‘Correct. Now let’s say goodbye, before this goes any further.’

‘I wish it would.’

‘Me too. But phone sex at a wedding? Really?’

I sighed. ‘Goodbye, Adrian. Talk soon.’

He hung up before I did. Damn him and his self-control. I felt worse now than I did before I called him. I don’t belong here in this beautiful setting with the flowers and the lawns and the weeping willows leading down to the lake, where the photographer is still marshalling the favored guests. I’m not part of this picture any more. Nobody would notice if I left. I turned back toward the hotel.

‘Hey!’

Paul again, another drink in hand, his handsome, boyish face flushed and slightly sweaty. ‘Hi Paul.’ Shit, my dick was hard. It would be so easy if he wasn’t my daughter’s boyfriend.

‘What are you doing here all on your own?’

‘I might ask you the same question.’

‘I was looking for you.’

Oh shit. What is going on? Why would he even think for one split second that I’m interested? Is there some kind of gay second sight? And why the fuck would it even occur to him when he’s dating my daughter? He’s straight, isn’t he?

‘Well, you found me.’ Tell him to get lost, Joe. Say something unequivocally negative: piss off before I tell Nicky. Stop flirting with me. I’m not interested.

‘What you said earlier, about hiding things. It really made me think.’

‘Yeah?’ I started walking back toward the crowd, back to safety. ‘It’s nothing particularly original. I mean, everyone has stuff that they don’t want to . . . ’

‘I’d like to talk to you properly some time. You know I don’t have a dad.’

‘I didn’t know that.’

‘He left my Mum when I was little. I love my Mum, you know, but it’s like sometimes I really need, like, a man I can talk to about, you know, things.’ The words were tumbling out of him, tripping over each other, and as I walked faster, he jogged to keep up, wine sloshing out of his glass.

We were close to the rest of the party now, at the foot of the wide, shallow steps leading up to the terrace and the garden room. ‘This probably isn’t the time or place for a big heart-to-heart, Paul.’

‘Please.’ He grabbed my arm, bringing us to an abrupt standstill. ‘I know I’m a bit pissed. I’m sorry about that.’ Bouncing on the balls of his feet again, like a boxer. I thought of him in a pair of silk shorts, gloves, boots. ‘There’s stuff I’ve never told anyone and I want to talk to you.’

‘What makes you think I’m interested?’

His eyes were so wet, he was almost crying. Jesus, I sure do attract them. ‘I don’t know. You’re just such a nice guy. You seem so . . . like . . . someone I could tell stuff, and you wouldn’t judge me, you might understand me.’

Come on, Joe. Tell him he’s barking up the wrong tree, even if it’s a lie. Even if you’re thinking of yourself at his age, and how much it would have helped to talk to an understanding adult. What would have changed? Would I have split up with Angie and started going out with guys? Is that what Paul wants to do?

Oh shit, I hate responsibility. ‘OK. I’d be happy to talk to you, if you think it would help. But not now. There are too many people.’

‘When?’

‘Got your phone?’

Of course he did, and while I recited the digits, he put them into his contacts. Why, Joe? You have a man waiting for you, a man who is not going out with your own daughter, a man who has told you not to fool around.

Make that last digit wrong. It’s not too late.

And then it was too late.

‘Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.’ God, he had a nice smile. As nice as Adrian’s?

And then people interrupted us, and Paul moved on, looking back over his shoulder, smiling and waving.

I felt like I’d had a narrow escape. One more minute and I might have dragged him into the bushes, pushed him to his knees, and come all over his upturned face, making a mess of his suit, and I knew all too well how completely I could block out all those reasons why this was the worst idea ever. I’d come in his face and I’d watch him shooting his load over the ground and then we’d clean up and feel remorse and avoid each other until the next time he sent me a text.

But for once, I’d done the right thing, even if only because circumstance forced my hand, and I felt rather good about myself. Adrian must be having an influence. So come on, Joe. Step up to the mark. Join the party, be part of the celebration, not some moody outsider nursing an erection in the twilit margins.

And I did, and it was fun, and for a few hours, I forgot everything and was Joe Heath again, the Joe Heath everyone knows and likes and expects me to be.

The newlyweds left in a vintage Morris Minor, the families with younger children headed for bed, and by ten o’clock there were only a few hardcore partygoers left in the lounge bar. Angie and Jackie were there, Jennifer had gone upstairs, Alex was with Nicky and Paul and a couple of the ushers, looking as if they were going to make a serious night of it. It was time for the middle-aged to leave the field to the youngsters.

‘Got that thirty minutes for me then?’

Oh, and Stuart of course. He’d been there all along, at ease with everyone, the popular godfather, the perfect wedding guest.

I looked at my watch. ‘It’s getting late.’

‘Past your bedtime, old man?’

Angie and her sister were picking up their handbags and shawls, preparing to leave. ‘I think the girls are going up.’

‘Which leaves the boys to carry on. Say goodnight, and we’ll take a coffee out on the terrace.’ Angie and Jackie were weaving, both a little the worse for wear. ‘Need a hand, ladies? Mind you don’t fall off those heels.’

‘We’re fine,’ said Angie. ‘I’m taking my little sister up to bed. You carry on.’

‘See, Joe? We have their permission.’

‘Goodnight then.’ I gave Angie a peck on the cheek. ‘I won’t be long.’

She was gone, and Stuart took control. Coffee was poured, seats were found outside, with just the moon and stars for company, the drunken bellowing of the ushers soft in the distance.

‘So, Joe. Lots to catch up on.’

‘Yes. Where do we begin?’

‘Your stag night?’

Well, that found its target. ‘Fuck. You don’t beat about the bush, do you?’

‘Not if I’ve only got half an hour to say all the things I’ve wanted to say for twenty years.’

‘OK. Go on. Tell me what a fucking bastard I am. You won’t be saying anything I don’t already know.’

‘Actually, I was going to thank you.’

That punctured my self-defensive bubble. ‘What?’

‘You made me realize I was gay. Or admit it to myself, I should say.’

I swallowed hard. Did Stuart have any idea? ‘I see.’

‘Looking back now, it’s easy to see that I was always in love with you, from the first time we met. All through school. I thought it was just hero worship, or a crush, or a phase. All that bullshit that they tell you. But no, I was in love with you alright. I just didn’t want to be.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Why be sorry?’

‘Because I couldn’t give you what you wanted.’

‘I guess not. But I was probably too frightened to take it even if you’d tried. I must have wanked thinking about you every day for six, seven years. Sometimes twice a day.’

‘Jesus, Stuart! Too much information.’

‘Come on, Joe. You knew what was going on. You saw how I used to look at you in the changing rooms or when we went swimming. When we shared a room.’

‘I don’t remember.’

‘And then Angie came along and I lost you. Or I thought I had. But we had one night, didn’t we?’

‘Yes.’

‘And it was amazing, whatever you remember about it. If you even do remember it.’

‘Of course I do.’

‘It was everything I’d ever dreamed of. You were so beautiful.’

‘Come on, Stuart. You’re embarrassing me.’

‘It’s OK. You can blush as much as you like. No one can see. No one can hear us.’

I reached out in the darkness and found his hand, took it and squeezed. ‘You were beautiful too.’

‘After that night, I knew what I was. That’s what you gave me. Certainty.’

‘I wish someone would give it to me.’

Stuart was about to ask something, but changed his mind. ‘I knew I’d never have you. You were married, and that was that. I’d already wasted all those years being in love with a straight man. It was time for me to get out there and find others like me.’

‘I see.’ I felt a sense of loss for something I’d never had. Stuart and Joe. What could have been.

‘So I did the usual gay thing. I plunged into it. I went out, I met loads of men, I had a lot of sex, and I finally learned what it was all about. Better late than never, eh?’

‘Yeah,’ I said, thinking of everything that had happened in the last six months—my late vocation, my catching up.

‘And then I met Diego.’

‘Ah.’ A tiny, fragile castle in the air collapsed.

‘We met at a club, we were both pissed off our faces, we had sex at some chill-out party and then, I don’t really know how, we became boyfriends. He moved in with me, and once we’d sorted out his immigration status—he was Brazilian, you see—we bought a house together and we got married. Well, back then, civilly partnered.’

‘Congratulations, mate.’ I let go of his hand. ‘I’m really glad you found someone. That’s great.’

‘And then he died.’

The night air seemed a lot colder. I drank coffee. An owl hooted. One of the lads in the bar must have told a joke, because they all roared.

‘And no,’ said Stuart, ‘it wasn’t AIDS.’

‘I didn’t think it was for one moment,’ I lied.

‘He had a heart attack. Forty years old, fit as a fiddle, went to the gym, ate the right food, didn’t drink or smoke; he just dropped dead. We were on holiday in the Lake District, walking up the hills round Ullswater. It was a beautiful day. I’d made sandwiches and a flask of coffee.’ He stopped to sniffle. I dared not look at him. ‘And he just sort of groaned and went down on his knees. It took fucking hours for the paramedics to get to us, and by then it was too late. Instant death, they said. It happens sometimes. No warning.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Thanks. It was only a year ago. Almost to the day, actually.’ He laughed a bit and blew his nose. ‘I guess I’m still not over it.’

‘I wish I’d known.’

‘Really? That’s nice of you. Anyway, I didn’t drag you out here to tell you all my problems. I just wanted to say that there are no hard feelings. Without you, I would never have met him, and we had fifteen good years together. It should have been more, but still, fifteen isn’t bad, is it? Not quite as many as you and Angie, but more than I ever expected.’

‘Actually, I think that’s about what Angie and I had.’

My turn to drop the bombshell.

‘Had?’ Stuart asked.

‘Yeah. Past tense.’

He waited for me to speak again. ‘Come on, Joe. You can’t say that and not explain yourself.’

‘Don’t know what to say, really. We just fell out of love.’

‘But you’re still together.’

‘It may look that way.’

‘Then what?’

‘She’s got a new man.’

‘Oh.’ This time he took my hand. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s OK. These things happen.’

‘Do the kids know?’

‘Yes.’

‘And how are you?’

‘Oh, I’m alright. I’m moving on.’

‘I see.’

Fuck, this was it. I was going to tell someone. A real friend. Someone who knows me and knows my family. Once it’s out in the open, everyone will find out. My worlds, so carefully separated, were about to collide. There’s no going back.

‘Actually, I’m sort of seeing someone too.’

‘Wow. I had no idea. I’m . . . I don’t know. I was going to say I’m happy for you, but that doesn’t seem right somehow. I wish you well for the future. Oh fuck, I don’t know.’ He squeezed my hand hard. ‘What happened to our friendship, Joe? Why can’t I talk to you any more? All those years that have gone by, why did we just let them . . . ’

‘It’s a man.’

That stopped him in his tracks.

‘Didn’t expect that, did you?’

‘No. You’d better tell me all about it.’

And so I did—the slow death of my marriage, the porn, the wanking, Craigslist, everything and everyone, every body, every cock.

And I told him about Adrian.

It didn’t take long. Ten minutes, maybe less. Stuart didn’t say much.

Finally, I ran out of things to say. The coffee was finished, and our half hour was up. It was getting cold.

‘Do you think it’s serious?’

‘With Adrian? I don’t know. But I want to try.’

‘Yeah.’ His hand was stroking my right deltoid. ‘Our timing is shit, isn’t it, Joe?’

‘Yeah. It’s shit.’

‘Do you think . . . ’

I knew what he was going to ask, and I knew what I was going to answer. ‘What? Go on. Say it.’

‘Do you think we could sneak up to my room? You know, for old times’ sake?’

‘I’m counting on it.’

‘Angie won’t mind?’

‘Angie won’t know. She’s sharing with Nicky.’

‘And your new guy?’

‘He’s not my guy yet.’ And if you do this, Joe, he never will be. ‘Anyway, we’re just two old friends catching up at a wedding. What could be more natural than that?’

I knew I was doing the wrong thing by Adrian—I was cheating on him before we’d even had a chance—but if it came to a choice, right then and there, at that moment, between Adrian and Stuart, between the known, loved past and the uncertain, desired future, I had made my choice.

We walked swiftly through the lounge, unobserved by the last remaining drunks, and took the lift to Stuart’s room.

There was no hasty goodbye in the morning. We woke early and stayed in each other’s arms, listening to birdsong, and made love again. Last night had been rough, almost desperate in its intensity, both of us fearing that the other might disappear. We plowed into each other, me fucking him first, then him fucking me, finishing off with Stuart braced against the towel rail in the bathroom, holding on for dear life while I pounded in and out of his arse, groaning and growling like an angry dog. He started coming first, splashing the ceramic tiles with huge dollops of spunk, while I followed, filling the condom inside him. Then we showered, and wanked and sucked each other until we fell asleep.

Now, with the early summer sunshine filtering through the curtains, we lay together, beside each other, on top of each other, making love with our hands and mouths, finally sealing the deal with my cock inside his arse once more, because that was what felt right, that was what we both wanted. As I fucked him, holding him in my arms, both of us on our sides, I felt so sure that this was where my path had been leading me—this strange reunion, the circle finally unbroken after so long, the first love, had I but known it, and surely now the last.

We slept a little more, showered separately, and prepared to go down to breakfast.

‘I suppose one of us should go a few minutes before the other,’ I said. ‘Not that I’m ashamed or anything—I just don’t think it’s the right time to tell people.’

‘Sit down, Joe.’ Stuart patted the bed next to him. ‘We need to talk.’

‘Do we?’

‘Yes.’ I sat. ‘What about this Adrian?’

‘It’s nothing really. He’s nice. If things were different, maybe something would happen. But he’s not like you. It’s not like us.’

He sighed, and rubbed my back, comforting me for pain he was about to inflict.

‘There is no us, Joe. Not in that way.’

I heard a roar in my ears, like approaching traffic. ‘Why?’ Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.

‘Because you can’t just turn the clock back twenty years. We’re different people.’

‘No we’re not. I’m not, anyway. You feel it too, don’t you? This . . . connection. It’s right for us. It has to be.’

‘Maybe it’s right. I don’t know. But it’s not going to happen. You and I have too much history. I know your family. I can’t do that to them.’

‘You’re not doing anything to them that I haven’t already done. It’s my responsibility, Stuart, not yours. I can still be a father to the kids. I’ll be a better father, because I’ll be happy. I can be myself for the first time.’ And then a sob rose up from my chest and stopped me from talking.

Stuart carried on rubbing my back and said, ‘I’m sorry. I really am.’

‘No you’re not.’ I sounded six years old. ‘If you were really sorry, you wouldn’t do this.’

‘OK then. The truth is, Joe . . . well, the truth is I’m with someone else now.’

‘What? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that last night?’

‘Because it didn’t seem to matter then. I thought we were both in the same boat.’

‘And why does it suddenly matter now? Because you got what you want, is that it? And now you’re just going to walk away from me?’

‘We can still be friends. Real friends, who tell each other the truth.’

‘And what about what just happened? Do I have to forget?’

‘No. We’ll never forget that. But it can’t go on.’

There was a finality in his voice that made any argument pointless. ‘And this other guy,’ I said, wiping my eyes, ‘it’s serious with him, is it?’

‘I don’t know. I think so. It’s too early to tell. I’m still not over Diego, to be honest.’

‘I see.’

‘And you’re not ready either, Joe. You’re still married. You haven’t told anyone. You can’t start a new relationship until you’ve finished the old one.’

I laughed and blew my nose. ‘You sound exactly like Adrian.’

‘You should listen to him then.’

‘Yeah.’ I stood up and tidied my hair in the mirror. ‘I should have listened to him last night, shouldn’t I?’ I picked up my jacket. ‘See you at breakfast, Stuart. And, you know.’ My hand was on the doorknob. ‘Thanks.’

He didn’t come down to breakfast, and I didn’t see him again before we left.