Chapter Text
Angela smiled enchantingly as she walked past Professor Summer’s open door. Indigo Summer smiled back over the top of the young man with the purple hair. So many Emos and Goths this term! She mouthed ‘later’. Angela hugged her photocopying to her chest, smiling secretly, as she ran down the stairs of the Gibbs. English Lit.’s photocopier was bust yet again, so she was going to have to borrow the one in the general Humanities open office. She bumped into Tom, Sociology prof, a genial man of about a hundred.
“You’re cheerful, Angela. Going somewhere nice for the bank holiday?”
“Yup. My pub quiz team won an all expenses paid weekend in a country manor hotel. And it’s the best weekend, what with the football. Dave won’t even notice I’m gone.”
“Well, have a great time. You work hard, you know, at home as well as here. How are the kids?”
“Jonno’s being posted to Afghanistan, but he seems fairly positive. I’m trying not to think about it. Shaz is happy in Banbury. Did I tell you she moved to Banbury? She’s got a job there. I don’t see the grandkids so much, but they’re much more settled, you know?”
“Good news. See you Tuesday.”
“See you Tom.”
*
Lewis practically bounced along the corridor, whistling, carrying a clip folder for Innocent. She popped out of the office to meet him.
“Whatever you’re on, I’ll have some.”
“Just happy at an empty case load and a some long overdue leave. Doing anything nice this weekend ma’am? Shame to waste this warm weather.”
“Mr. Innocent has persuaded me to go caravanning in Norfolk, so no, not particularly. Hopefully, the Oxford criminal element will give me a reprieve.”
“Well, if they do, please leave me out of it. I have plans.”
“Oh?”
“Private plans, ma’am. I’m entitled to a private life.”
“Who is she?”
“She?” Lewis asked innocently of Innocent. “Bye!” he headed down to the car park, muttering under his breath, “She!” with a wide smile on his face.
*
In a dark room four figures surround a fire, burning in a huge golden bowl, similar in design to a Christian baptism font. In front of the fire font a huge alter, draped in a violet velvet cloth, containing four purple candles on each corner and a crystal representation of a fire. A bright painting of a fire in front of a sun, a bird, perhaps a phoenix, rising above the sun, all in reds, oranges, yellows and golds. Three are wearing robes of the deepest purple while the forth, standing at the apex, between the alter and the fire, is dressed in the deepest crimsom, his cowl hiding his face. He spoke at last.
“Has she repented?”
“No. She says she has the same freedoms of the people here and ours at home. That while she will always respect the Way, it is too restrictive, that she can no long follow the Way straight and true, but must deviate.”
“She said that?”
“No, I believe she said she walks the path the Creator unfolded for her, that He created her so she does not deviate.”
“So, she believes we deviate, rather than just turning her back to sin. A heretic rather than astray.”
“I cannot tell, Father.”
“Come forward Brother.” A fifth figure stepped forward from the back of the basement, out of the shadows, and knelt. He was dressed in a conventional suit. The ‘Father’ handed a bag to one of the acolytes, passing it through the flames, muttering a prayer in a strange language. The acolyte blessed the kneeling figure and gave him the bag.
“Go forward in light and strength. Follow the Way.”
“You know what to do,” the Father instructed.
“I hear and obey.”
*
Professor Indigo Summer was gathering her bags when Alan, American Politics lecturer, poked his head in the door.
“Have you time to talk?”
“I’m in rather a rush. I’m going for a weekend break in the country.” She grabbed her bags and a bundle of papers and began walking down the corridor to the lift. Alan followed her, jogging to keep up with her ridiculous fast pace.
“Sounds nice. It’s Cassie Khan. She came to me for another extension, and as you’re her tutor I was wondering...”
“Give it. She’s on chemo. That’s in confidence, mind. She is not taking the piss, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Shit. No. Of course. As long as she needs, until Week 11 and she’s sat the exam.”
“See you Tuesday Alan.”
“Yeah. Fine. Have a great break. My wife’s got me decorating the kitchen.”
Indigo made a face and stepped in the lift. Alan raised his hand as the door closed.
The sun shone on the Autumnal leaves in South Parks as Indigo happily skipped to the bus stop. Down in the bowl of Oxford the other university buildings shone in that sun so much like a fairy tale town the beauty caught in her throat. Indigo could never remember being so happy, and she had lived for more decades that she cared to count. Her phone ran, interrupting her reverie. Such a clumsy form of communication, still.
“Hello.
“Oh, it’s you.
“Yes, I’m looking forward to it. Of course I am. I can’t wait. Four whole days.
“Usual place?
“Oh. The corner. Yes. I know it.
“See you in two hours.
“Love you too. Bye.”
*
Sophie Mercer and Muhammad Ngoti watched, amazed, as Sergeant Hathaway gathered his belonging and prepared to leave. He never left this early. Sophie nudged Muhammad.
“Going somewhere nice then, sir? For the weekend.”
“What?”
“Well, you never leave so early. We thought, maybe your band was playing at a festival again.”
“No. No, I’m not doing anything really. Just, well, you know... Are either of you doing anything nice?”
“We’re going to a festival, as it happens. World music. Muhammad’s sister is in a Sufi group. African Islamic spirituals and stuff.” Muhammad winced slightly at Sophie’s naive, slightly trite, description. “That’s why we thought...”
“Is that the one in Devon?”
“Yes sir.”
“Well, have fun. Our Flautist’s wife’s just had a baby. We were going to be playing.”
“How lovely, a baby,” squealed Sophie in a very atypical manner. Hathaway glanced involuntarily at her abdomen. She pulled her cardigan around herself in a protective gesture. He suddenly noticed how over the past few weeks she’d switched to wearing baggy trousers and loose tops .
“Is the boss still about? Sophie needs to talk to him.”
“No. DI Lewis left about an hour ago. The Chief’s still in her office if it’s urgent.”
“I, er...”
“Or me.”
“It’ll keep.
*
Angela hummed to herself as she packed, cooked a shepherd’s pie, chilli, and unpacked frozen pizzas, many six packs of larger and bags of crisps and corn chips. She tried not to flinch as her husband hugged her from behind as she bent over the freezer.
“You have a great time love.”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“Yup. I’ll be fine. The lads will be round, we’ll watch the match and – hey, you’ve cooked for an army, I’m hardly gonna starve. You deserve a break, you know. You’ll only fret about Jonno.”
Angela was stabbed with guilt. Dave was a nice bloke, he didn’t suspect a thing. They’d been together for years, since they were kids. Not many boys stuck with the girl they got preggers. Look at poor Shaz. Why couldn’t she be normal?
“I’ll nick you the soaps and that.”
Dave laughed, “Don’t bother for me, I’m no poof.”
Angela flinched again. Did he suspect or was that just usual banter?
*
Lewis was packing when the phone rang. It was DC Sophie Mercer. He listened to her very unusual request. When he was convinced it was genuinely her wish he pointed out Thames Valley were an equal opportunities employer and couldn’t see any problem. At least he hoped not, although he warned her she’d probably be ribbed mercilessly for the first few weeks. He added, almost to himself, he really hoped it was an equal opportunity employer. Sophie chatted on about her plans for the weekend and beyond, but Lewis didn’t mind, she’d always been a chatterbox, as well as a damn fine detective, if a bit impulsive. Caught of guard, he told her he was going to a country manor hotel spa retreat.
*
As Hathaway unlocked his car he heard Sophie Mercer squeal. She really seemed to be getting more girly. Was she in love? She hung up and smiled at him.
“You never did say what you were doing?”
Off guard, Hathaway told her he was off to an expensive hotel in the Cotswolds. Sophie smiled a secret smile and got into her car.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Sergeant.”
“I’ll try not to.” Hathaway giggled. Sophie thought sometimes her sergeant seemed so gay these days. “ Enjoy the festival,” he added.
“Well, I’ll try to, but it’s separate tents you know. I’m with his sisters and Mum. Mega traditional. Muslims make you Catholics look wild.”
Hathaway just smiled and said goodbye. Sophie closed her car door and checked her phone for a text.
*
One by one the Father and his acolytes remove their robes. For a moment there is a flash of blue and a shimmer and then four very ordinary men leave the basement of the Victorian house on the Banbury Road. An exceedingly attractive man in a Second World War great coat watches them from behind a hedge. At least he believed he was exceedingly attractive, and mostly was able to charm men and women into believing he was. He stays watching the building as they leave.
*
A purple VW beetle pulled into the corner of two streets in Rose Hill. Indigo leant over to open the door and Angela threw in her suitcase and bag in the back and climbed in. She unloosed her hair and laughed, shaking her head to free her blonde hair while Indigo pulled back out into the traffic, putting one hand on Angela’s thigh.
“Okay?”
“Easy. Better than expected. He really doesn’t suspect a thing.”
“And your actual friends from the pub quiz team?”
“Covering for me. They think I’ve got a bloke. They all think Dave is too old for me and takes me for granted.”
“He’s only 49.”
“And I’m 40, in’it.” Angela laughed. “Love you Indie.”
“Love you too, Angie. Chose some music. It should take us about an hour.” Indigo eased the VW out into the ring road rush hour traffic to the backtrack of the Scissor Sisters.
*
Lewis beeped his car horn and Hathaway emerged from his flat, travel bag in hand, dressed in tight jeans and two tees, a black Fried Frog Fair Trade designer one over a navy long sleeved top. He had gelled his hair up and looked ten years younger than his is, and several hundred more shades of gay than usual. Lewis’ chest constricted at the thought of checking into a double room as a) gay and b) with someone young enough to be his son. What was he playing at? He felt a moment of panic and anxiety. Hathaway climbed in the car and smiled shyly and Lewis decided it would all be fine, things could maybe finally work out for them, they have a chance at last. No one will know them, they were far from the concerns of work, and he’ll eventually have to get used to it. However, the jeweller’s box burnt a hole in his pocket.
“Alright pet?”
“Sir?”
“You call me sir once more this weekend and I’ll have to spank you,” Lewis half-joked, knowing he had agreed to the separation of work and legend and home to help James cope.
Hathaway stared out of the window pointedly, as if to remind Robbie of this point.
“Joke,” Lewis offered weakly.
“I know that Robbie.”
“Good. Chose some music. It should take us about an hour in this traffic.”
*
Dave was in the pub when he saw Emma and Mags.
“I thought you girls were supposed to be away at this hotel?”
“Oh yeah, we was but...”
“Um, yeah, I’m going down tomorrow morning see.”
“Er yeah, and my little one suddenly got a ballet exam, so I couldn’t go. You see.”
Dave frowned in confusion and worry. “Yeah, I think. Angie wouldn’t be pulling a fast one on me? Another bloke?”
“Dave, she’s nuts about you!”
“Yeah, we all see that, you know? We’re all a bit jealous you know.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”
He smiled to himself as he carried on to the gents, reassured. Unfortunately, his mate, getting the drinks in, overheard as Mags said to Emma. “Shit, that was close!”
*
Lewis pulled into the car park at the same time as an old hippy purple VW Beetle decorated with sunflowers. As he and James climbed out of the car two women did the same. They smiled faintly at one another across the car park. The two men then followed the two women in, up the stairs and to reception. Angela Smith and Professor Indigo Summer checked in first.
“The name goes with the car,” James bit back the Sir. For the past few months he had spent half the time biting it back then other half trying to remember to use it rather than Robbie, then struggling again to force himself to say Sir, which seemed to be what was stuck for now. He was uncomfortably aware of people in the lobby and the restaurant watching them, but it didn't feel like homophobia, or at least, he tried to convince himself of such. No, it was more like... James caught their reflection. Robbie looked old and tired, and as for him - he had over done the gel and foundation, the eyeliner, and the too tight jeans. He looked like a tart! or at least, an out gay man. Mutton dressed as lamb, even!
Looked like a tart and is being treated like a lady - or gentleman, or kept rent boy, or... He was so lost in a minor panic attack it took him quite a while to notice Robbie was carrying his bag and the key, stepping back for him to go in the lift first. He snorted in self disgust and tried to flatten his hair, staring at himself in the lift mirror.
“Don’t. You look nice.” And suddenly he’s pulled into a kiss that breaks only when the lift door opens on an elderly couple, she with blue rinsed curls and twin set and pearls and he in chinos and a blazer and tie with a walrus moustache. They scowl at Robbie as they walk past, getting in the lift as they come out. Not them, not the kiss, just Robbie, as if he, James, looks underage. As the lift doors close the woman smiles at James. He smiles back, then follows Robbie as he looks for their room number. A couple come out of the room next to theirs. Both in their thirties, both in jeans and sweaters, holding hands and laughing. They nod to them as they go past. As they go into their room the two women who have arrived the same time as them emerge up the grand staircase. This floor is a mezzanine, overlooking the pool and sauna, with four suites along the corridor. The women smile, and the younger woman, with peroxide tresses and a floral dress speaks.
“Think we’re the only ones?”
Only ones what, thinks James, before he realises. Only gay couples. He’s in a gay couple! Has he really moved so far in accepting himself?
“Probably,” says Robbie, “although, they had a rainbow flag on their website.”
“Yes, that’s why I chose the place too,” agrees the older woman, the professor. Dark hair and eyes, smart skirt suit and blouse with knee high biker boots and a chiffon scarf in her hair. She has amazing earrings; James can’t help noticing, cut crystals in the shape of flames, prisms, catching the light and creating rainbows across her face.
They nod again in a friendly fashion. Robbie and James catch the sounds of girlish giggles and bed springs before they close their own door. Robbie dumps their bags and surveys the room before flopping on the bed. It’s a big room, king size bed, two easy chairs and a coffee table in front of huge plasma screen TV, a side table with the usual tea and coffee paraphernalia, a mini bar, a door to the side, leading, presumably, to the bathroom.
What now? Thinks James. He can no longer leave after a bit of kissing, no longer get out of the car or run from Lewis’ flat. He’s on a promise. He wanders over to the window, the huge French style windows.
“It’s a balcony!” he exclaims, looking out at elegant Inigo Jones style Georgian grounds, red and gold glowing trees covering hills behind, almost on fire in the sunset. “It’s beautiful,” he can’t help saying, trying to ignore the rising sense of awe and love at the Creator of that beauty, because he’s about to ignore that Creator’s instructions.
“So are you.”
James turns. “No I’m not.”
“You are to me, even if it’s taken me bloody years to notice.”
James snorts, not sure if he’s disbelieving but flattered or alarmed at the cheesiness.
“Come here.”
An order, James thinks. And obeys. He sits beside his boss, shivering.
“You know...”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I’ve never... Not consensually. Ever. I pretended, but the truth is...”
“I know. You’re safe with me.”
James notices how Lewis – how Robbie – is deliberately not touching him.
“We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. And if you want to stop, that’s fine. Just say. You’re in charge here.”
“I don’t want to...” James begins. Confused, he stumbles over his words. “That’s not want I... I mean I want you to...”
“Come here pet. Don’t be silly. I know what you want, but you’re in charge. If you want me to stop, say so, if you want me to – you know – come out of you, say so.”
“But that’s not...”
“It’s okay. If you get flashbacks, don’t hide it. I’m here for you, okay. I won’t mind. We’re all the time in the world.”
James sighs and shivers as his boss kisses him, pushing him down on the bed, underneath, kissing more deeply, stroking his hair, every movement, every touch gentle and slow, like nothing he’d... How could he think this would be like being a child, being in that Russian truck, how... “Stop, “ he tries, experimenting. Immediately Lewis rolls off him and sits up.
“Okay?”
“I started to think about those bastards, but I’m okay now, I think, but I don’t know what I could...”
“Want to explore? Have a meal? There’s no rush, pet.”
James shakes his head and leans forward to kiss Lewis, pulling him on top of him, parting his legs and pulling him tighter to him. God! How many years had he dreamed of Lewis lying on top of him...
*
Dave was very, very drunk. Steve and Josh had just wound him up all evening, telling him you can’t trust women, they were all whores and bitches. After a while of defending woman in general and Angie in particular, he’d begun to believe them. Drunk and clumsy, he began to search the house for any details of this quiz prize and the name of the hotel. In such a state he fell against the bookcase and bumped his head. Not that bad, but he began to cry like a child. He curled up and slept on the living room floor, tormented of dreams of his Angie with some 20 something Brookes student.
*
The man in the suit sat in his car and emptied the blue velvet bag. He ignored the tools, but attached a small electronic device to his satnav. Immediately it started to emit a high pitched, rhymic bleep. He began to drive. Unnoticed, a four by four driven by the vain man in the retro coat began to follow him.
*
The sun had set. James lay curled around Robbie, staring out at the darkness, the deep darkness of the countryside. Beyond the lights of the car park and front, and the lights down the drive from the main road, there was nothing but the harvest moon and the stars.
“Okay?”
“Yup.”
“Sure?”
“Yup.”
“Good. Shall we get something to eat?”
James looked up as if Lewis were speaking a foreign language.
“You know, food? I’m starving.”
James laughed. “Okay,” he agreed. “And later..?”
“And later, we’ll try again. You’ll be fine.”
“Especially if you get me a bottle or two of red wine.”
“It’s a deal. But first, lets shower.”
“Together?”
Robert Lewis laughed. “Yes, pet. Together.”
*
Indigo and Angie watched the other gay couple walk into the restaurant. The older man relaxed and cheerful, the younger man biting his nails and looking terrified. He was quite pretty, if you liked that sort of thing, which after getting pregnant at 16 and 24 years of marriage, Angie had realised she didn’t. Bless him, was it his first time?
“Sweet, aren’t they?” asked Indigo, following her gaze. “Bit like us.”
“No way is there such a big gap between us!” shrieked Angie, amused.
“You have no idea,” Indigo replied lightly, as if a joke. “I’m hundreds of years old.”
“You must feel like it, surrounded by students all day. I know I do.”
“I meant, I think he’s his boss,” She changed the subject, nodding towards Lewis and Hathaway.
“Well, you’re not exactly my boss. I’m all the English Lit lecturers’ secretary, you know.”
“As long as you’re not sleeping with all of them!”
“No way. It’s you I love.”
“Glad to hear it.” Indigo picked up Angie’s hand and kissed it.
*
“Everyone is staring at us.”
“No they’re not James.”
“I’m sorry, you know...”
“Didn’t you have fun?”
“But you wanted to...” James lowered his voice, “fuck me.”
“Yeah, sure. Whenever you’re ready. Have more wine.” Lewis topped up James’ glass.
“Are you trying to get me drunk Sir?” James asked flirtatiously, twirling the glass in his hand.
“Oh yes, sergeant. And what did I say about calling me Sir?”