Chapter Text
The scene that greeted him took all of the air out of him, and he leant against the wall to steady himself. The same wood panelling lined the walls, but the furniture here was mismatched; some pieces looked as if they belonged in his mother’s house, others in a parish hall. James swore he could see a church pew draped with all different types of cloth. A separate, smaller bar propped up the wall on the left hand side. Behind it, the bartender was making enthusiastic conversation with their patrons, turning around to laugh at a joke James couldn’t hear. He found himself staring; their hair was truly transfixing – white-blonde waves pinned in just the right place to frame their face, their pencil thin eyebrows accentuating the strength of their nose. James was completely taken aback by their beauty, and decided to push his way through the crowd towards them.
People turned to look at him, and he reached a hand to the back of his neck self-consciously. It brushed the collar of his tunic. Shit. He was in his military togs. As quickly as possible, he whisked off his top layer, turning it inside out to hide his rank and regiment (much to his own embarrassment) and draped it across his arm. The bar stools here had backs to them, so he found a spare and took a seat. The bartender glided across to him.
‘First time, my darling?’ they asked, placing an elbow on the bar and staring kindly.
‘Erm…yes, yes it is. I…I wasn’t expecting such…well I didn’t know it could…you’re very beautiful,’ he blurted, covering his mouth as he spoke, utterly ashamed of himself.
The bartender chuckled and placed a hand across James’ sweaty own. ‘You’re among friends now, sweetheart. You can say anything you like. What can I get for you?’
‘I…I, erm…’
‘How about something proper and strong?’ they suggested, producing a bottle of syrupy spirit and a small glass.
‘Yes, jolly good,’ James agreed, taking the glass and downing it in one. It went down the wrong hole and he found himself spluttering uncontrollably, his chest burning. Once the coughing had subsided, the bartender patted him on the arm and encouraged him onwards.
‘Go to find some people, my love. They’ll be delighted to have your attention, I’m positive.’ Just before they went to tend to another set of customers, they turned back to say, ‘Thank you for the compliment, by the way, my love.’
James hopped from the stool, his head spinning from the spirit. Music he had only just registered pulled him across the room. Before he could find its source, however, he heard his name being called.
‘James!’ the voice called.
He spun around to find Anthony making his way towards him. He appeared to be three or so drinks in already, his voice a fraction louder, that unceasing sparkle in his eyes amplified tenfold. He held his arms wide as if waiting for his friend to embrace him in greeting. His jacket had been shed and he had unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt.
Good Lord. ‘Havers!’ exclaimed James, feigning shock. ‘Fancy seeing you here. I—’
‘Don’t pull the wool over my eyes, James. I have been aware of you since Hemel Hempstead train station. Sorry to break it to you, my friend, but I fear discrete surveillance isn’t your true vocation.’ He grinned, his loose hair curling slightly over his forehead. He had reached James at last, and placed a warm hand on his back. ‘And to add to that,’ he continued, ‘I know you’ve had the intention of following me for quite some time. That’s why I came here tonight. I wanted you to have the best possible introduction.’
James thought he may weep. The pure overwhelm of having his second in command tell him his discretion was, well, indiscrete, coupled with the knowledge he had arrived in this place from someone else’s volition had caused a tightening in his chest. It was so beautiful here.
Anthony’s firm grip on the small of his back sent him spiralling too. He pushed in ever so slightly as he steered James across the room.
‘Come on. I want to introduce you to some people,’ he whispered excitedly, almost euphorically.
They reached where he had been sat – a small corner harbouring a chintzy chaise longue, a rickety wooden chair and a wide velvet armchair. Occupying the latter was what James took to be a couple – two women so entangled in each other that he struggled in determining whose hands belonged to whom. They both had very dark hair pinned up stylishly, the woman on the left wore a frankly dashing pair of trousers with braces embroidered with violets, and her partner wore a dress of yellow flannel. On the old dining chair sat a young man in a white polo shirt and grey trousers. His rouged cheeks and lined eyes reminded James of an illustration he’d seen on a poster for a performance some years ago. The chaise longue was vacant, no doubt where Anthony had been seated. He fell back into it and pulled James down with him, who resisted the desperate urge to break away and perch on the other side.
‘James, this is Gabriel,’ he said, gesturing to the gentleman, ‘and here are Margot and Jia. They recently had a ceremony here, and since I couldn’t be there they were just relaying every little detail. Everyone, this is James, a good friend of mine. He’s never been to a place like this before, so be patient with him.’
At this point, James expected the three to laugh, as most people did in places he was unfamiliar with. Contrary to his prediction, however, they all lit up with excitement. Jia leant across and took James’ hand. ‘You are so welcome here,’ she said, smiling.
‘Are the pair of you...?’
‘No, I hate to disappoint you, Gabe, we are but colleagues. However,’ he said, turning and giving James a look he hadn’t ever seen before, ‘if he were to ask, I would certainly say yes.’
James wasn’t entirely sure what was being said, so endeavoured to enter the conversation himself. ‘Gabriel, is it? What do you do for a living?’
‘None of that here, James! We none of us have jobs or lives outside of this room after four o’clock! It’s one of these unwritten rules. Don’t mention anything that would be classed as civil conversation in any other part of the world. Instead we talk about choses secrète.’ He glanced behind him as a man walked by, and took hold of his wrist. ‘Paul, my dear,’ he began, ‘you must meet this wonderful gentleman Anthony has brought for us.’
Paul looked down to Gabriel, leant over the chair and pulled him into a kiss. ‘Just an excuse for me to sit with you, is it, mon amis?’
To James, this felt like a moment too intimate for gawking at, yet nobody appeared to bat an eyelid. He looked around the room at that moment, and noticed everybody was being just as free. Two men in the corner whispered gently, hands laced together. A couple by the bar kissed, running their hands across the other’s dress. It was the norm here, he realised. Well, if that were the case, he would need to get involved. He made a gentle excuse to his friends and returned to the bar, this newfound resolve running like adrenaline through his veins.
‘Two of your strongest, please,’ he informed the bartender, who grinned proudly and poured James a double measure of the same thick spirit. He knocked it back at once, wincing slightly at the burn. Leaving his empty glass, he made his way back over to the chaise, unbuttoning the collar of his shirt. Before he tapped Anthony on the shoulder, however, he thought better of it and reinstated the button.
Anthony whipped around in his seat, his liquid eyes regarding James in a new, addictive way.
‘Anthony, may we speak in this corner over here?’ he asked rather clumsily, cursing his social ineptitude.
Despite that, Anthony made his excuses with the merry party, now joined by Paul, and took James to a quiet corner.
He cleared his throat and propelled himself at full speed into his proposition. ‘Anthony,’ too late. He had lost his nerve. ‘I am frankly appalled that you, an active officer, deemed it appropriate to dress down tonight.’ He had slipped back into his officious bark, unaware that he had previously exchanged it for something softer. ‘It is a disciplinary offence, as you well know, and…’
‘James.’ Anthony took him by the hands, pressing his thumbs to James’ pulse points. ‘Send me on night patrol for three months, take away my privileges, order me to clean out the privy every day until this blasted war is over, but please for the love of God do it after tonight.’ His eyes appeared to tear up slightly, and he pulled himself closer. ‘Because I don’t think that’s why you followed me in here, is it? There was something else you wanted to ask, wasn’t there?’
James’ neck prickled again, and he looked over to his left. The bartender saw his eyes, terrified as a lamb, and gestured for him to get on with it for God’s sake. Taking a short breath, he choked out ‘I want you to do to me what the others in this room have been doing.’ His face flamed with mortification at the very implication of his request, and he was ready to tear away and out of that room, never to return. He closed his eyes, waiting for reality to rip through this fantasy, waiting to see the seats on the train.
Anthony looked around the room to see the intertwined hands, intimate whispers and shared space. He let go of James’ hands and put them to his cheeks, causing his eyes to open. ‘My love, I can do better than that, if you like?’
James assented, though to what exactly he wasn’t sure until Anthony had his lips pressed against him and had his hands holding him by the hips. He was soft and gentle. His mouth tasted of the same drink that James had been served. Breaking away, he cupped James’ face in his hands again. ‘Is that the sort of this you were looking for, James?’
He could do nothing but nod as Anthony took to him again, stroking his temples. James put his hands across Anthony’s back and leant into it, savouring every last second.
From the corner of the bar, the bartender looked over with pride. It was always a privilege to watch decades of repression and shame dissolve in seconds in a place like this, where the outside world couldn’t touch them.
‘Come on, then,’ Anthony said, unbuttoning James’ silly collar and leading him back over to the chaise longue. They sat down together, Anthony with his arm around James’ waist. ‘How about we reintroduce you?’
James nodded eagerly. ‘I’d like that very much.’
‘I’d like that very much…?’ Anthony encouraged.
Unsure, his partner attempted: ‘I’d like that very much please?’
Anthony burst out laughing, though not at James, never at James. ‘No my love, I wanted you to use my name, or an endearment, please.’
‘I’d like that very much, my dear Anthony,’ he said, the words forming unfamiliar shapes in his mouth.
A gentle kiss on his forehead began their evening again, and the pair of them stayed until the moon dipped below the horizon, revelling in their newfound companionship alongside the others in the Swiss Hotel.