Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Walking tall and proud with a swagger in his step, Bright parted the crowd at the Starlight club with such ease. As every head turned to look at him, they naturally moved to clear a path. He smiled. He knew they loved him or feared him and either way he had control over them. In his grey pinstripe suit, he didn’t even particularly stand out, but Bright didn’t need to, he was confident, and confidence was power. He shone brightly not by charm or charity but by menace and fear. He was a tyrant king without the robes and he loved it.

He stopped by the bar and ran his finger along it. “You haven’t bought me a drink yet, Mick?” he said, staring intently at the man beside him with eyes that scanned over him slowly.

The man didn’t look at him, fearful of possession or intimidation. “You never asked, Bright.”

“No, I never do.” He looked at the barmaid. “I’ll have my regular, love. Mick’s paying, cheers.”

Mick obeyed the command and then found solace at the bottom of his drink. Meanwhile, Bright’s eyes were fixed on the door and the sight of a policeman in uniform who was entering the club.

Bright sniffed. “Smells terrible in here. Must be the filth that just entered, the stench of the copper.”

“Tell me about it,” Mick said with a grin that showed his blackened teeth. “Nothing fouler than the pig-sty.”

Bright’s eyes never allowed himself to wander, to look away from the policeman as he came nearer into view. He’d learnt in his life, in his game, that he had to stay one step ahead of them and if he couldn’t do that, he could at least let them know they would never get to him. He wasn’t going to sulk away in a corner, he was instead going to continue doing his criminal activities and they would know and they could hope, but they were never going to catch him. He laughed to himself, drinking a sip of his beer as he saw the constable approaching. Bright continued to watch him, half repulsed by the image of a police officer and half attracted by the strong face and the tight authoritative uniform. He’d never seen this breed of uniformed policeman however. The man had an air of the detective about him, a sense of superiority and he moved across the room like he was also in control. Where other coppers kept to their rules, Bright sensed this one was different.

“Constable, why don’t you join us?” Bright asked, kicking out a bar stool and producing the widest smile he could achieve.

The Constable smirked and stopped chewing his gum to speak. “And who do I have the pleasure of joining?”

“Bright.”

“Ah, so you’re Bright? Your reputation precedes you.” The constable sat down and ordered a drink.

Bright bristled with pride at being known. There was a level of satisfaction in the police noticing him and wanting him.

“I’m Constable Skinner.”

“Nice to meet you, PC Skinner. What you doing around these parts? Didn’t think this place was a Bobbies scene?"

“I go where I’m called, more’s the pity, and you?"

“I go where they call me.”

Skinner kept his eyes firmly on Bright and then looked him up and down, chewing his gum vigorously. “Nice suit.”

“Oh, you think so, do yer, PC Skinner? And you look nice in uniform considering what it stands for.”

“You got time to answer a few questions?” Skinner knew he needed to get moving, glancing at his watch every few minutes.

“About what, copper? The weather, the meaning of life, me gran’s will and testament?”

“Maybe later. Look, a violent theft took place earlier this evening. We’re asking for witnesses.”

Bright smiled and took another easy sip of his beer. “Now that is terrible in a decent neighbourhood like this, you just can’t believe it can you? I saw nothing, mate. I think you’ll find no-one around ‘ere saw nothing.” He turned to the other men around him. “Anyone else see anything? No, no, nothing. No one saw anything. Anything else?”

The two men stared at each other again, their eyes locked on the other, neither wanting to be the first to blink.

“You can come back with me if you like, Skinner. I’m sure I could help you out with answering some questions. I’ve a big brain, me.”

“Bright by nature too?” Skinner asked, smiling. “Alright, drink up. I wanna do some digging. You seem a good bet.”

“Careful officer, who knows where digging can lead.” They both started for the door. “So, what’s your first name anyhow, if we’re going to be friends, I can’t call you copper?”

“It’s Joe and yours?”

“Keith.”

“Right, well come on, Keith, I need more information out of you.”

Skinner and Bright took the slow route back to Bright’s place, through the abandoned city streets, past the run-down areas full of graffiti and crime. The few people they did cross on the streets knew Bright well enough to either avoid him or wave pleasantly and move on quickly. Skinner knew exactly the type of bloke Bright was, had met so many like him before, had arrested so many of his type. It was always these cockiest fellas that he wanted to bring down to earth, the ones he wanted to see squirming when banged up in a prison cell. If he ever became a detective constable, Bright would be just the kind of criminal he wanted to nail.

“Penny for them, Joe,” Bright said as they walked side by side.

“Nothing important, Bright. This where you live?” Skinner asked as they came across a poky residence in a small terraced-housed street.

“What were you expecting, Buckingham Palace?”

“Nothing like that. Just let us in would yer?”

“Why not? I’ve got nothing to hide. Me old man and me mam are in though so you can strip search if you like, if that’s your kink.”

Skinner ignored the comment. “Just let me in, Bright.”

Bright smirked and thrust his key into the lock, throwing open the door with an air of majesty. “I’m back,” he announced as though every member of his family should greet him the moment he arrived. “Lazy sods are asleep in the front room,” Bright remarked, rubbing his chin. “Suppose we’ll have to go to my room. What a shame.”

Entering the bedroom seconds later, Skinner looked around carefully whilst Bright closed the door, shutting them in. Skinner noticed the music posters adorning the walls, they had similar tastes. He threw his hat onto the bed.

Sensing that Skinner had curious eyes, Bright grinned. “Like what you see, do yer?”

“You’re no different to anyone else I’ve nicked, Bright.”

“You haven’t nicked me, I came willingly.”

Skinner smirked. “Of course.”

“Oh, go on, call me by my name, you know you want to. Surely we’re on first name terms now, it’s Keith, seeing as we’re such good friends.”

Slowly and eagerly, Bright approached Skinner until their faces were inches apart.

“I’m here to get down to business, Bright.”

“So am I Joe, but what business is that? Because you came back here tonight without much convincing.”

Skinner’s eyes didn’t look away. “You think everyone fancies you, don’t you Bright?”

“Because they do, Joe.”

“People doing what you want isn’t because every sod admires you. They fear you, Bright, that’s all it is, self-preservation, just like you.”

“And do you fear me, Joe?”

“Never.”

“But you fancy me?” Bright leaned forward and kissed the policeman on the lips. “You’re tasty for a copper, yer know that, Joe?”

Skinner gulped. He enjoyed the kiss and enjoyed the toxic role-play. Bright pushed every button but he excited him in equal measure. He wanted to resist him. He hated everything that Bright stood for but that smile was intoxicating. He found himself, against all his better judgement, kissing him back hungrily. When they broke apart, Bright was grinning.

His face reddening, Skinner slammed his fist onto the wall. “Stop playing games with me, Bright.”

“Oh, and he has a temper too.” Bright approached him from behind and gently kissed the back of his neck.

Skinner’s body tightened. He couldn’t concentrate whilst he could feel Bright’s warm breath on his neck. He spun around. “Back off, yeah?”

“And here was me thinking I could get you out of that uniform.” Bright kissed him again on the side of his chin and Skinner closed his eyes and did his best to pretend he didn’t enjoy it. He pushed him away and raced to the door. “This isn’t right.”

“Two single men. Last time I checked it wasn’t illegal, except of course for the moral implications. A policeman shagging a…”

“…a what? What are you, Bright? What were you going to say then?”

Bright smirked. “A noble, honest citizen was what I was going to say.”

“You love it.” Against his better judgement, Skinner gave in to temptation and let the rebel man within him take over from the police officer and he allowed himself to give himself over to Bright.

…

When Skinner awoke, he was wrapped in Bright’s arms under the garish orange bed covers and he could feel Bright’s heart beating. He was surprised he had a heart in there. He expected there to be stone or machinery. For a moment he felt regret but he also felt a dash of excitement as he watched Bright sleeping for a few moments. He was attractive and he was passionate. He was also unattractive and villainous. He was many things at the same time. In his slumber he even looked sweet and animal-like.

Skinner looked at his watch. “Bugger it.” He leapt out of bed with a struggle which naturally woke Bright who rubbed his eyes and smiled.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Bright laid back leisurely, arms behind his head and grinned. “You haven’t even got my number yet.”

“I don’t need your number I know where you live. Shut-up and help me find my belt.”

“What you gonna do with it?”

“Strike you hopefully.”

“As a treat or punishment?”

“Look shut-up, alright, I get it, we had a good time, whatever, but this was not meant to happen. I’m a police officer and you’re…you’re…well you’re you.”

Pursing his lips, Bright placed on his silky dressing gown and grabbed the belt from the lamp and threw it to Skinner as he dressed hastily. “And you have to pass my folks to get out of the house.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Admit you wanted me and I’ll help you escape.”

“I can’t do that. I don’t play those games. The police catch wind of this and I’m out. I’ve already got a track record.”

Bright tutted. “Oh, officer, just how many other men you’ve been questioning have you ended up screwing?”

“Just the one.”

“Oh, I’m flattered.”

Skinner paced the room and then pointed at Bright. “Listen, mate, I made a mistake, alright? You’ve made plenty. I’m a hammer, mate, and one day I’m going to nail you!”

“You already did last night.”

“I mean, I’m gonna get you, mark my words.”

“I’ll look forward to it. Now get out of my room, it’s starting to smell of pigs in here.”

Skinner scowled, threw open the door and slammed it shut behind him. Remembering the parents were still in the house, he slowly crept down the stairs and made his way to the front door. He made it out of the place just as Bright’s parents arrived in the hallway. Bright was walking down the stairs slowly, in his short dressing gown, hair a mess, pleased with himself.

“Who was that leaving, son?” his mother asked.

“None of your business, mam, get me breakfast would ya? And don’t burn it this time.”

She sighed as she left, pushing past him with anger.

“You just can’t get the staff can you, Dad?”

Chapter Text

Letting out a loud yawn as he got into his bed, Terry was about to lay his weary head on the pillow when there was a hammering at the door. At first, he sighed and tried to ignore it, but then it became louder and more persistent.

“Oh, bloody hell.”

He placed on his dressing gown and made his way to the door, flinging it open. “What?” he asked before even looking at the person. “Maurice?” he said as he caught sight of the face that had rain dripping down it. Maurice was usually so well put together but he seemed dishevelled. “What you doing here?”

He was breathless. “Can I answer that inside, Tel, it’s pissing it down out here?”

“Course.” Terry showed Maurice and his bag into the front room which was full of takeaway cartons and piles of stuff he’d not tidied away yet.

Maurice tutted. “Like a doss house in here.” He picked up the TV guide and started flicking through it.

Terry snatched it back. “Yeah, well we don’t all have wives to clean up after us do we?”

“No, we don’t anymore,” Maurice said, sighing. He rubbed his temples. “I’ll level with ya, Tel, it’s bad.”

“Well, I know that, don’t I Maurice? You only come to see me when your life’s going down the kermits. I aint seen you in a year.”

“And I’m sorry, I really am, would I lie to ya? But have pity, Maureen’s thrown me out, straight up.”

“Again?”

“Thinks I’m playing around. I says ‘Maureen I aint never played around’ but what can I say, she doesn’t believe me?”

“Haven’t ya, been playing away I mean? What about that posh bird up Chelsea way? I heard from Arthur you was seen out with her.”

“Flirting, Tel, and flirting aint cheating! Was only giving her a lift home. But Sadie’s given it the lip all over Hendon so none of them want nothing to do with me.”

“That Sadie’s got a right gob on her.”

“So, I had nowhere else to go.”

“Sounds about right. You brought any more stuff?”

“Just this one bag. And the motor.”

“Parked outside?”

“It’s outside the offy up the road. Had a few so had to leave it.”

“Bloody hell, Maurice, you can’t leave it there, by tonight it’ll have no bleedin’ wheels.”

But Maurice shook his head and sat down on the sofa in defeat. “I’ve done it this time, Tel. All me cards have blown into the air and are scattered in a mess. Even I can’t sort it. Can’t deal with this. Can’t predict my own hand these days.”

“But if you haven’t done anything wrong, then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know, Tel, honest, it’s just life grinding us down. We’ve been married fifteen years, you know that?”

Shrugging, Terry folded his arms. “I guessed it was something like that.”

“She says I’m having a mid-life crisis.”

“That motor was the first clue.”

“I’m not! I’m no different than I was last year.”

Terry, yawning again, looked at the clock and then sat down on the armchair. “Look, I get that, mate. Maureen’s thrown you out, you’re having marital probs, what’s new? You’ll call her in the morning, buy her some flashy pair of earrings and all will be alright. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with my bed.”

Glancing at his watch, Maurice chuckled lightly. “It’s only ten o’clock! Since when did you hit the hay before midnight?”

“Yeah, well I’m knackered, alright? Arthur had me breaking me back yesterday.”

“How is Arthur anyway?”

“He’s on his hols now.”

“Anywhere nice?” Maurice clicked his fingers as though it were a guessing game. “Don’t tell me, don’t tell me. Marbella?”

“Margate.”

“Oh.”

“Look, get some kip yeah?”

“No, look, I can’t sleep, Tel, I keep thinking about Maureen in her face mask, brushing her hair in front of the mirror. I miss her.”

“It’s been a few hours!”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been kipping on our sofa for weeks.”

“Blimey you are bad. And if you start expecting me to parade around in curlers and a negligee, you’re out on your duff, alright?”

“Just sit and talk with me, eh, Tel? We can get a takeaway and play some cards.” He got them out of his pocket and began to shuffle. “Life’s a game, eh, Tel? You don’t know what cards you’ll be dealt.”

“You do.”

“And then you come a cropper, low card on the table, losing everything.”

“Look, I told you, I aint playing a card game with you ever again. In fact, last time you was here, I hid them all. I’m always more skint when you’re around.”

“Because I’m a winner, eh?” Maurice grinned widely.

Terry smiled. “Yeah, such a winner, kipping on my settee which has seen better days than you.”

Maurice clutched his chest. “Don’t strike me when I’m down, Tel. Alright no cards, but come on, a takeaway yeah?”

“At this hour?”

“Well, you could always cook for me.”

“I’ve got nothing in so unless you want fried egg on an unwashed plate.”

“Heathen. Takeaway it is. What you fancy, Indian? Greek?” Maurice picked up the telephone and wrapped the cord around his fingers.

Terry snatched it back and placed it on the receiver. “No, because if you remember, mate, both the Indian and Greek communities have barred you, what with you beating them in all those poker games.”

Maurice rubbed his chin. “Oh, that’s right. Well then that leaves out Chinese and Polish too. Let me think. Fancy a Thai, Tel?”

Terry sighed.

…

When both men awoke in the morning, they were on the sofa, surrounded by takeaway boxes which were covered in grease and grime. Maurice had fallen asleep on Terry’s chest and was moving up and down with every breath Terry took. He stirred when Terry let out a snore and found himself surprised at how snug he was in another man’s arms.

“You aint half hairy, Tel,” Maurice said as he yawned and sat up, realising his hand was inside Terry’s shirt, upon his chest. He took his hand away quickly.

“Maurice, I’m a geezer, what you expect me to be like?”

“Maureen’s skin is smooth and smells nice.”

Scrunching up his face, Terry shoved Maurice away from him. “You’re not moving in here to play husband and wife with me, are ya? Because you’ve already felt me up this morning.”

“What can I say, you’re cuddly. And I’ve been deprived of female contact.”

Terry jumped up from the sofa and edged to the door. “Here, you stay away from me, I’ve watched a lot of prison films.”

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong. I just miss Maureen, don’t I? Have a heart Tel, she’s my whole life, her and the kids. And they’re locked away in Borstal.”

“Borstal? They’re in bloody fee-paying Milford.”

“I told ya, it’s Millfield, it’s school not a racehorse.”

“Yeah whatever. You miss ‘em then?”

“Breaks me heart, Tel. Didn’t think it would be like this.” He sat forward and buried his head in his hands. When he looked up his eyes were full of tears. “My girl she rang me, her little sweet voice saying she misses her daddy. And my boy, chip off the old block, only he won’t be, will he, he’ll come out there talking like some prince? He’ll hate me, and who’d blame ‘im?”

Terry, feeling bad, put his arm around Maurice’s shoulder. “It might not be like that. There’s no point going over it in your bonce, adding two and two and making five. You’ll still see the kids, trust me.”

“Yeah.” Maurice sniffed. “But if old Sadie gets to ‘em, they’ll be bad mouthing me the way she does about her old man.”

“Yeah, but their old dad aint run off with the au-pair. You’re a good dad.”

“I am a good dad. I provide for ‘em, don’t I Tel? They aint never wanted for nothing.”

“Look, why not drive back to Hendon and have a talk with her? It’s not like it’s the first time she’s given you the elbow.”

“She’s got her mother staying with her.”

“Bloody hell, two Maureens, you are screwed.”

“What am I gonna do, Tel?”

“Not mope about here all day, I’ve got work to do and you, you’re gonna get out of this gaffe and do something. I don’t want to know what that is but you can’t be my shadow all day. Arthur’s got me all over the shop.”

“I suppose I could hit a few of the casinos,” Maurice said, rubbing his chin.

“Oh, yeah, that’ll really help.”

“I’ve gotta provide for my kids, Tel. They need me. Those school fees don’t pay themselves.”

“Yeah, well take a day off, sort your head out. Look, meet me tonight at the bar alright? You can meet my new bird.”

“You’ve got a new bird?”

“Yeah, hairdresser, right tasty sort.”

“She have a name?”

“Deirdre.”

“Deirdre?”

Terry grumbled. “Yeah, it’s a name. Anyway, I told her about you on the blower this morning, told her how you’d got a moody on, and she said you could join us. Only for a couple of drinks, mind, don’t cramp me style the whole night.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Tel.”

…

Later that afternoon as Terry arrived home, he realised that Maurice must have been inside as the light was on, either that or he was being burgled. He approached the door slowly and pushed it open.

“Maurice, mate, that better be you,” he called inside.

“It is, it’s me, Tel, sorry I let myself in,” Maurice called from the front room.

“Thought I’d been turned over then. How’d do you get in anyway?” Terry asked as he entered but didn’t finish the questioning as two children were sitting on the floor, talking to each other, wearing matching school blazers and straw hats. “Er, what’s going on? Maurice, can I have a word?”

“Yeah, no probs, Tel. Kids, daddy won’t be a minute, alright?”

Maurice followed Terry into the kitchen and fiddled with the fridge magnets on the fridge as he waited for the inevitable lecture.

“Have you lost your marbles?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are your kids here when they’re meant to be in school?”

“I picked ‘em up. I had a moment of clarity, Tel. I said to myself, ‘why gamble today when I can see my children instead’?”

“You bloody drove all the way to Somerset to kidnap your own nippers?”

“I didn’t kidnap them, I’m their father!” Maurice glanced at them through the door and smiled. “Aint they beautiful, Tel, Sasha’s a princess and Ben’s like his old man, aint he?”

“They’re crackin’, but won’t Maureen go spare when she finds out? You tell her about this?”

“Didn’t need to, told the school. I’m the head of the family, I have rights.”

“Well, they can’t stay here.”

“Have a heart, Tel, they’re only young.”

“It’s not the kids I object to, it’s the principle. I aint even got room for them to stay the night.”

“We fell asleep on the settee together last night; they can do the same. Don’t say our night together didn’t mean anything.”

“Give over. You snore.”

“Pot calling the kettle black, mate. The school might teach them airs and graces but they know their roots.”

“Their roots? They’ve never known hardship. They live in Hendon. They holiday on the continent. Their dad drives a Lotus Eclat.”

“Yeah that’s ‘cause I always get the dough so they don’t go without.”

“Did you even get any food in?”

“Stop nagging me, Tel, I’ve barely had time to think. Had a shower when I got back, put on some new clothes and a splash of brut. This morning I just got in my motor and drove all the way there and back. I’m knackered. Couldn’t whip up some scrambled eggs could ya, son?”

“You’re something else, Maurice. We’re meant to be meeting my bird if you remember?”

“Oh, sorry, forgot all about that. Invite her over. Birds love kids.”

“She’s not coming over to babysit whilst we go down the pub.”

“Now would I do a thing like that?”

Terry smirked. “Nah, but I would.”

…

When Deirdre arrived later that evening, the children were sitting in front of the television, engrossed in the programme. Terry watched them and smiled, noticing the strong resemblance the two children had to Maurice.

“Sorry about this palaver,” Terry said as she arrived in the front room and sat down on the armchair.

“They’re sweet things,” she said, looking at the children. Her eyes were then distracted by Maurice who walked into view. “You must be Maurice,” she said, looking up at him.

He placed his hands on his hips. “It’s a pleasure, love. Tel’s been raving about you.”

“Thank you, Maurice.” Terry blushed.

But Maurice didn’t respond and was at his daughter’s side. “Oh, come on princess, what does your mum tell you about sitting that close to the telly? You’ll get square eyes.”

“Ben’s sitting closer!” Sasha protested.

“Well, he can move too, both of you, up, we have a guest. Show some manners.” He turned to Deidre and winked. “Kids, eh?”

“It’s wonderful to see a man taking care of his young.” Deirdre flipped some of her hair across her shoulders.

Terry shook his head. “Leave off, Deir, he can’t even take care of himself. He has them shut away at Milford all term.”

“Millfield,” Maurice corrected and placed his hands over his daughter’s ears. “Do you mind not bad mouthing me, Tel, in front of the kids? You’re worse than bleedin’ Sadie.”

“Now that is uncalled for. I don’t need these verbals.”

Maurice approached Terry and patted his shoulder. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry mate. You’ve been a good pal and I’ve not been much cop at raising the kids. I try my best, I do, and I’ve provided for ‘em but it’s a tough world.”

“He’s a good dad,” Terry told Deirdre. “Just has a few vices,” he whispered.

“Oh, a man who can own up to mistakes is aces in my book,” she said, staring at Maurice and smiling.

“Aces?” Maurice said, kneeling down beside her. “Now that’s my kind of language. You into card games are ya, love?”

“I love a bit of a flutter from time to time.”

“Leave off, the only thing I’ve seen you flutter is your eyelashes,” Terry added.

“You don’t know everything about me, Terry. I have hidden depths. I was a croupier once at the old casino down town.”

Watching as Deirdre eyed Maurice, Terry sighed. “Look shall we get that drink, Deirdre, and leave daddy with the sprogs?”

Deidre hesitated for a moment and then stood up. “Well, if we must. It was lovely meeting you, Maurice, and your two delightful children.”

“Kids say bye to the pretty lady.”

They both muttered.

“Kids, I said be nice, say goodbye.”

“Bye,” they both said with big grins that matched their father’s.

Maurice kissed Deirdre’s hand. “Nice meeting you too, Deirdre, go easy on him.”

As Terry and Deirdre stood by the door, he looked at her and sighed, trying to keep his voice down. He placed his hands in his pockets. “Look, let’s just get this out in the open before I splash out on drinks. Do you fancy Maurice?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Is it a question where the answer is yes?”

“So what? He’s attractive.”

“Bloody hell.”

“You still want to go on that date?”

“You’ve put me right off. Fancying Maurice, bloody hell. I’ll give you a bell later, alright?”

“Suit yourself.” Deirdre huffed, slung her handbag over her shoulder and walked away moaning under her breath.

Terry walked back inside, shaking his head but feeling he’d dodged a bullet. He slumped onto the settee, placing his feet on the coffee table. Maurice was looking at him, surprised.

“That was quick. I know you work fast, Tel, but…”

“Leave off, gave her the heave-ho, didn’t I?”

“What she do?”

“She committed the cardinal sin.”

“What’s that?”

“She fancies you.”

Maurice laughed and bristled with pride, sitting down next to Terry and trying not to smirk.

Terry looked at his friend, dressed in a pink shirt which was almost down to the middle. “It’s most probably those shirts. Don’t they come with bleedin’ buttons?”

“What can I say, Tel, it’s my animal magnetism?”

“Well, your animal magnetism has done wonders for my love life, thank you, very much. So now we’re both in the same bird-less boat.”

“Tel, not in front of the kids.” He got up and crouched down beside them by the television. “You both alright?”

“Yes daddy,” they said together.

“They’ve got them well-trained,” Terry muttered.

“They’re good kids. You’ll be alright a moment won’t you, me and uncle Tel are gonna go whip up some grub?”

They shut the door and headed to the kitchen. Maurice opened the fridge as soon as he entered. “Nothing in here.”

“I told you that! Anyway, never mind grub, why hasn’t Maureen phoned about the kids?”

“I already gave her a bell, don’t worry.”

“Yeah. She alright with them crashing here?”

“Well, I didn’t say I was here exactly. She thinks we’re in some posh hotel down Mayfair way.”

“You are something else, Maurice. Those are her kids.”

“They’re our kids. I own half.”

“They’re not chips, Maurice. You don’t win ‘em at the table and trade ‘em and sell ‘em and gamble with ‘em. They’re your children, your flesh and blood.”

Maurice slammed the fridge door shut. “I know, I know. I didn’t mean it like that. I love those kids, Tel. I may not be the perfect role model but I’d die for them. I love them with every inch of me.”

“I know. Look, we’ve got four eggs, that’ll have to do.”

“Cheers, Tel.” He reached over and hugged him, squeezing him tightly and laying his head on his shoulder. “You’re a diamond.”

“And you’re an ace, Maurice, but sometimes I can’t deal with ya.”

Chapter Text

In the car, Tony held firm to the steering wheel, his fingers tight around it. Beside him in the adjoining seat was George, his best mate who’d been at his side since they were kids. They’d seen it all together. They’d done everything together, and here they were again with Tony in control and George attempting to look cool, sticking his fingers up at children in the other cars. They were not on the road however. They were not on some large motorway speeding with other joyriders. They were instead in a dodgem car at a funfair, sitting in a bright pink painted car, going around and around the same circuit, attempting not to crash, but intentionally ramming a few people along the way. Even on a fairground ride, they kept to type—Tony knowing the direction he should take, George following and trying to give directions that according to Tony were always wrong.

“I told ya,” Tony said as he steered the dodgem around a turn. “I drive.”

“And I say we should go left,” George said.

“Fine, have it your way.” Tony turned the car sharply to the left and true enough they rammed into a blue dodgem with a little girl sitting in it. “See, people get hurt when you make rash decisions, George.”

“She’s fine,” George said, hardly noticing the girl rubbing her neck after the force of the impact.

Tony waited for a few moments to speak and then when he did, he was never in a particular hurry to rush his words. “Did you…did you…meet him?”

With nervous fingers running through his balding hair, George nodded. “Yeah, I met him.”

“Nothing for me to worry about then?”

“No, no, as usual Tony, you can go on safely looking the other way. It’s a wonder your neck don’t get stiff.”

Tony smiled briefly and then kissed George’s cheek. He was always doing that, George noted, kissing him—on the lips, on the cheek, just briefly, ever so often, not too much, not too little, just the right amount. He wasn’t really sure why Tony always kissed him— he didn’t kiss anyone else but he supposed there was no-one as close as they were. They’d been kicking about together since they were kids. They’d recently been kicking about with two girls too, young things, nineteen and twenty and George was convinced that Tony had kissed him more than his own bird Jackie.

“You’re distracted, George,” Tony suddenly said as their dodgem crashed into the side.

“Sorry.”

“Out the car.”

“Steady on, Tone, ride aint finished yet.”

“I said it’s over.” He leapt out of the car, onto the side of the ride where George followed.

“What’s up with you, Tony?” George asked, following his friend into the crowd. He could always tell which man he was by his confident stride and the way he placed his hands in his pockets. He spun Tony to face him so their noses were inches apart as they stood behind one of the rides.

“Nothing’s…up, just don’t bring us back down, that’s all. And where do you get that new flash motor you got parked up the street?”

“Sets a good image does that motor.”

“But what kind of image?”

“It sets the image that we’re doing well, Tone.”

“It also sets a different kind of image.”

“Well now you’re talking nonsense. It’s a motor. I wanted it. I’ll have it. You always have what you want.”

Tony frowned. “Do I? Is that what you think? Well, let me tell you, mate, that isn’t always the case.”

“Leave off, you the great Tony Slater, you can look at something and it can be yours.”

“I can have most things, George, but don’t mistake me for being super human.” He paused. “What I get I earn. We had nothing but we don’t get something for nothing, we work at it.”

They walked in silence for a few moments until they reached a stall serving beer and Tony nudged his friend. “Pay the man for two, eh?”

“Why can’t you pay? Got holes in your pockets?”

Tony laughed silently, not keen on being made a fool in front of strangers. He sighed however, didn’t let it get to him and reached into his pocket to pay. George noticed the bundle of ten-pound notes in his wallet. He had all that dough and he was searching for small change.

“I sort out the big finances,” Tony said, almost as though he’d read his best friend’s mind. “I give you your share fairly, don’t I?” We’re partners, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, yeah, mate, we’re partners.” George softened then and tapped Tony’s shoulder. “Don’t suppose you wanna go on the ghost train?”

With a chuckle, Tony smiled. “Oh, go on then.” He paused and took George’s arm. “I do love you, you know, Georgie?”

“Yeah, and I love you Tone but will we feel the same in twenty years?”

Tony laughed, deeply, throatily and moved his friend forward. “Come on, have a seat.”

As there was no steering wheel, the friends sat side by side equally on a little individual carriage in the shape of a big green monster. It made a chugging sound as it moved along the mechanical track, through some doors, into a tunnel of darkness where some kind of hanging ghoul laughed manically from a recording as they passed under it.

They both laughed as they found themselves screaming as cheaply made bats and white sheet ghosts hovered above.

“Need me to keep you safe?” Tony asked, engulfing George in his arms.

George happily snuggled in Tony’s embrace. The ghost train didn’t frighten him and the dodgy dealings didn’t bother him. The world didn’t really bother him either. The one thing that did bother him was losing Tony’s favour. Even when he drove him barmy, he never imagined a world without him in it, a business deal without his partner, a day at the races without his mate.

“I’ll always keep you safe, you know that, don’t you George?

“Yeah, I know that. Why do you keep saying it? What you worried about?”

“On the way up, we make enemies of people, George. Now I can try to swerve and avoid those enemies but they’re always there. We can make alliances too. We can turn a blind eye and we can leave the filth back where we left it as nippers. But we’re grown now and we go forward and I can’t protect you if you pull us back to the gutter.”

“I’m not mate, I’m climbing the ladder with style.”

“Style’s not enough.” He grabbed George’s cheeks. “It’s graft, it’s work. How you think you can afford that flash motor if I don’t put in the hours?”

George looked down. “I get it, I do.”

They both jumped in surprise as a skeleton figure rattled above as the car passed by. “But do you get it? That dosh we earnt the other night, you blew it in two hours.”

“Well, I had to buy everyone a drink. How does it look on us if we don’t have the cash to buy everyone a snifter?”

“We need to remain focused. You knocking them back don’t help anyone. What time you leave that party?”

George was about to reply when a plastic bat flew at him. “Bleedin’ hell, bugger nearly got stuck in my hair.”

He could just make out the smile on Tony’s face as a flash of pretend lightning lit him up with a shocking green tone. “What’s left of it.”

Folding his arms, George sat back, not in the least bit bothered by the ride and all the scares. “Oh, charming.”

Tony laughed. “Don’t worry, it suits you, gives you a sort of mature look.”

“Anyway, you’re one to point fingers. Your barnet aint so full neither.”

“Maybe not but I’ll find ways to cover it up.”

“Sure you will.”

“It’s all a matter of perception.”

It was then that the ride shot through the two exit doors and they were greeted no longer by demons and vampires but instead by the evening sky adorned with a few twinkling stars. They climbed from the carriage and made their way to a seat. Tony pointed at the stars.

“See that big star there?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s me.”

“Is it now?”

“And that one next to it is you, see. We’re the biggest, we’re the brightest and we don’t need to resort to cheap gimmicks or making ourselves seen. We know we’re there. We shine, we don’t darken. People can see us alright, but we don’t overpower, yeah?”

“Whatever you say, Tony.”

Tony glanced at the merry-go-round and watched in silence as it rotated, the people riding it becoming a blur of colours and faces.

“Life moves at such a speed, it’s hard to keep up.”

“Fancy a ride, Tony?”

“What?”

“On the horsey-thing?”

Tony laughed and rubbed his chin. “Yeah, alright.”

They waited for the current ride to come to a halt and then they both climbed upon two golden horses, side by side. George sat forward whilst Tony lounged backwards, feet in the air. George stuck out his tongue at a boy in front. As it began to spin, their smiles widened, taking them right back to their childhoods when they had snuck into the local fair and had befriended a group of fair travellers who let them ride for free if they helped clear up. Tony had known then that success meant graft and it also meant making friends with people, even if you didn’t like them. Sometimes you had to do favours so one day people would do favours for you.

“You know that bloke I did business with, Tone?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s in the crowd, watching us.”

“Is he indeed?” Tony’s eyes scanned the crowd but he missed him as the ride spun around. Next time he clocked him and tried to keep his eyes on him until the ride rotated again. “What’s he staring at?”

“Think he was curious what you looked like. I’ve spoken so much about you.”

“Well now he’s seen me. You didn’t say too much did ya, George?”

“No, I know you like your mystery.”

…

It was a while later when Tony was alone that he was set upon, not by the watching man at the carousel but by someone else entirely. George had taken Jackie and Pat to the coconut shy, making them believe he could win anything he wanted when in reality he couldn’t aim to save his life. Tony meanwhile had been admiring the night, watching the colours change on the amusements, searching for meaning in everything he saw. The blinking lightbulbs seemed to offer him ideas and he was more in the mood for work than play.

“There you are,” a deep voice said.

Tony spun around to find a man in a dark suit smoking a cigarette.

“Can I help you?”

“You George Klein?”

“Who wants to know?”

“Someone wanted me to give him something. You him?”

Tony pursed his lips, sensing the situation was turning dangerous. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m Klein. What do you want?”

“Let’s take a little walk, shall we?”

Tony looked down but didn’t respond, instead he followed the stranger to behind a ride, one of the kiddie ones that was full of screams of excited children. In the darkness and with the deafening noise of joy, no one could hear as Tony was punched and kicked and thrown to the floor. He got a couple of punches in himself but another two blokes came out of nowhere and three against one was not his game. He gave in. He let them kick. He let them punch. He blocked out the view of them and soon they were gone and he was clutching his stomach. He felt blood on his face and his vision was blurry. He gasped for breath. “George,” he called.

It was a while before George found him, crawling at the back of the rides, trying to remain out of sight and not cause a scene. He was bleeding from his mouth and only just able to breathe properly.

“Bloody hell, Tony, what happened?”

“Someone was looking for you, George.”

“And they gave you the kicking?”

Tony winced through gritted teeth as he sat on the ground. “I told them I was you.”

“Why d’ya do that?”

“Because I told ya, I look after ya.”

“Bloody hell.” George leaned down and took his handkerchief from his breast pocket, wiping the blood from Tony’s mouth. “What have they done to ya?” He gently removed the rest of the blood from his face and ran his fingers softly over Tony’s cheek. “That’ll do, eh?”

“Get me ‘ome, George.”

George placed his forehead to Tony’s and sighed. “I will. Have to tell the girls first.”

“Never mind the girls, it’s me and you, and don’t forget it. They don’t know what we’ve been through together.”

“Too right. But we’re gonna marry them, aren’t we?”

“Course. It’s all part of the image as you said. Got to…play the game.”

Chapter Text

As evening progressed and the bar emptied one by one, Stanton glanced over to the corner table and noticed Flight Lieutenant Curtis was sitting alone by the window, his men having abandoned him wisely to get sleep before the early morning ops. He smiled to himself, watching as Curtis drummed his fingers on the table, over and over. Stanton made his way over, heavy steps in a straight line toward the corner.

With his hands behind his back, he stood at the table quietly, waiting for the man to notice. It took several moments for Curtis to look up and when he did, he seemed disappointed.

“Ah, it’s you, Stanton.” He frowned. “Can I help you with anything?”

In contrast, Stanton’s smile widened. “Mind if I join you, old chap?” His voice was soft and high, calm and pleasant. There weren’t many who spoke like him.

Curtis glanced at the clock, praying it was too late to socialise. He didn’t want to accept Stanton’s invitation but what excuse could he give for refusing to dine with a squadron leader?

“Take a seat, if you wish, Stanton.”

Stanton, feeling relaxed after his own drink, stared long and hard at the man, looking him up and down carefully and intently with his piercing grey-blue eyes. Curtis was a handsome fellow, he observed, very handsome in an ordinary way but Curtis in return didn’t appear to want to look at him longer than he needed to.

“I don’t bite, really, old boy,” Stanton said as he pulled out a chair and sat down gently, crossing his legs and placing one hand on his knee.

“I’ve heard otherwise, Stanton.”

“Have you indeed?” Stanton took a slow lingering sip of his ginger beer and licked his lips slowly as he saw Curtis look up finally.

Curtis then proceeded to glance from the glass to Stanton quickly. “Have you always been the ginger sort?”

“I’m afraid so. I’m sure one of my many vices. The others found it rather a joke earlier. Do you find it a joke, Curtis?”

“It’s none of my business.”

“You asked.”

“Curiosity, I suppose. Someone new like you, about to take the chaps out, I just want to know the size of him, if you know what I mean, Stanton?”

“And that’s very commendable, Curtis. But you must realise, old chap, that I just want to freshen the boys up, none of this stiff old nonsense. I’ll give them back to you just as you had them, I assure you. I simply wish to whip them into shape a little.”

“You don’t think my men are whipped into shape already?” Curtis’ eyes fixed on his rival, well, he was starting to think of him as a rival anyway. Stanton just seemed to rile him for one reason or another.

“You mustn’t take it to heart. You chaps must learn to do things for your own good. I’m not the enemy, surely?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Well, they do say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

“What is it you want from me, Stanton?”

Stanton smiled lightly. “Can we not be friends even just for this drink, this hour? Can two people not put aside hostilities and find a common ground just for the sake of comradeship? Can I buy you a drink?”

“Fine. I’ll have the same again then.” He smiled for the briefest moment and leaned forward. “You know, you’re a real puzzle, Stanton.”

“Better to be a puzzle than obvious I always say.”

“The chaps need a stable influence, not a daring hero, I’m afraid.”

With a laugh, Stanton looked down. “My do you think badly of me. And here was me just starting to like you.”

“Like me?”

“You have a certain defensive charm. The more you push me away, the more I’m…drawn toward you.”

Curtis shuffled uncomfortably. He wasn’t quite sure if the rumours were true but he wondered if Stanton was flirting with him. He’d never had a man flirt with him before, not that he was aware. Away from home, flattery was not unwelcomed, even among members of the same sex. But this was Stanton, part of him felt irritated by the man’s keen attention, part felt flattered and part felt guilty for having been rude. Many men had stories about Stanton. He would have the rest of the evening to judge him for himself.

“I rather think I should die if I never flew again,” Stanton said.

“I’m rather worried my boys will die if they do fly again.”

“I’ll take care of them, don’t you worry.”

“And who will take care of you?”

Stanton pursed his lips and let out a shy smile. “Are you volunteering?”

“This is your whole life, isn’t it?”

“It is rather. When one flies into the unknown, Curtis, one has a sense of freedom.”

“And you don’t have a sense of freedom on the ground?”

“Hardly, old thing. There’s things one doesn’t do.”

“Ginger things?”

“I’d rather not speak about that if you don’t mind.”

“Fine. Look Stanton, I’m sorry about what the chaps laughed at and I respect your love of the sky, but I don’t have to understand you and I don’t always agree about the way you go about things. But I suppose I have to trust you with my men.”

“You can trust me, Curtis. And call me Jim whilst we’re socialising.”

“Socialising, is that what this is…Jim?”

Stanton coughed. “To tomorrow?”

Curtis raised his glass. “To the unknown.”

Chapter Text

In the school courtyard, Wharton, Cherry and the other boys were discussing summer holiday plans by the fountain, and each boy was excited by the prospect of some time away from Greyfriars and the strict rules, not to mention the Latin!

“I’ll miss you chaps though,” Wharton said, biting into one of Nugent’s oranges which was the boy’s going away present. “I say, will you chaps miss me?”

There was rough-housing for a moment as the five boys wrestled and laughed, tugging at each other’s blazers and ruffling hair.

“Not on your nelly, Harry!” Bull said, holding his stomach with laughter. “But I dare say we’ll miss you more than Quelch.”

Wharton folded his arms and then rubbed his chin. “Ah, but will you miss me more than Bunter?”

“No one could miss Bunter for a few weeks!” Cherry insisted. “Hello, hello, hello, speaking of the fat devil, here he comes.”

They all turned to look as their classmate came into view, waddling and determined, carrying his usual paper-bag full of delicious sweets which he refused to share with anyone. He sat on top the wall, resembling Humpty Dumpty, as he gobbled each of the sweets in quick succession.

“Hello, Bunter,” Wharton said as the boys edged closer and gathered around him, crowding him in the way they usually did.

Bunter made little attempt to look at them individually. “Oh, hello, Wharton, chaps. Can’t you see I’m rather busy?”

“You fat oaf!” Nugent said, nudging Singh as he said it. “As if eating sweets keeps you busy!”

“What do you beasts want?” Bunter asked.

“Nothing,” Singh said, “we were discussing summer plans.”

“Oh, don’t talk to me about summer. Pater wants to drag me all over the place. It’s jolly beastly, that’s what it is. I won’t be able to read my comics and eat good food. He’ll probably have me reciting Latin during train journeys. Oh lor’, it’s disastrous.”

“Depriving Bunter of his tuck,” Wharton said with a glint in his eye. “That is frightfully criminal.”

“Shut-up Wharton, I’m serious.”

“Well, Bull, Singh and Nugent are also away for the holidays,” Cherry added. “It’s only Wharton and I that are stopping at home. In fact, I’ll be at Harry’s for the first few weeks.”

“Oh yes, go on, Cherry, tell me about how you’ll be able to do whatever you want.” Bunter grumbled. “It’s always me with the bad luck.”

Wharton prodded him. “Don’t be so hard done by, you fat ass, we just mean you could always stop by at my place for a day or two. We wouldn’t want you to feel left out, would we fellows?”

They all shook their heads in agreement.

“I say, Wharton, that is kind of you!” Bunter said. “Now, I’ll tell Pater that I can join him later instead.”

As Bunter scurried away happily, he collided with Quelch and the boys laughed as they watched him being berated by the schoolmaster for walking too quickly.

“Was that wise, Harry?” Bull asked. “A few days with Bunter. Will you survive it?”

“And with the three of us away not able to help?” Nugent added.

“We can handle old fat man Bunter,” Wharton insisted. “It might be a sporting time but we’ll be victorious.”

…

Cherry and Wharton had enjoyed a few days of holiday just the two of them before Bunter arrived with his usual brashness one Saturday morning carrying two suitcases and moaning about the weight of them. Up until that point, the boys had relished in the opportunity to go fishing, swimming and play vast amounts of cricket with the villager boys. As they saw the rotund figure of Bunter approach, they both gulped, wondering whether their kind offer was going to backfire on them.

“Hello, hello, hello, if it isn’t old Bunter,” Cherry said, taking one suitcase from him. “Crikey, what have you got in here?”

“Sweets of course!”

“You fat oaf, Bunter, you can’t bring that many sweets,” Wharton added. “My uncle was thinking of feeding you.”

“Be quiet, you two, these are important snacks between dinner and supper.”

He watched as Cherry and Wharton nudged each other and scuffled. Usually, he was around the whole group of boys, saw them as a team, a playful posse of youth, but on this occasion, it was just two close friends and he was on the outside. He didn’t like that at all. He should be the one they wanted to spend time with. He was fun and exciting. He would make it that he got his way.

“I say,” he chuckled to himself, rubbing his hands together. “Wharton and Cherry are awfully close chums. What would happen if they were suddenly not so close chums and I was one of their best pals instead? Oh crumbs, what a jest! More sweets for me when they buy their best chum Bunter all they have!”

“You talking to yourself again, fat ass?” Wharton asked.

“Oh, shut-up, you beast!” Bunter grumbled. He turned away. “For that remark, my new best friend shall be Cherry.”

…

As soon as evening had rolled around, the boys were in their pyjamas, sitting in Wharton’s room by the window.

“I’ll just go and fetch us some midnight snacks,” Wharton said.

“Good idea, Wharton, my belly is rumbling, I haven’t eaten in three hours!”

Wharton smiled, shaking his head and then made his way downstairs. Bunter moved closer to Cherry who was reading a comic.

“You have good taste in comic books, Cherry,” Bunter said.

“Mmm-hmmm.” Cherry didn’t look up.

“Of course, Wharton didn’t say the same.”

“What you babbling about, Bunter?” He looked up finally and smiled. “You had too much sugar?”

Bunter’s eyes darted back and forth with gleeful manipulation. “No, Cherry, I’m talking about old Wharton and him saying that you only read comics because you’re not very bright.”

Cherry’s grin turned to a frown. “He said what?”

Bunter held his hand to his mouth. “Whoops, that was a secret, oh crikey, oh silly old me!”

“What else has Wharton been saying to you?”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly!”

“I’ll give you some sweets if you do.”

“Well, alright then. He said you were a rather irritating chap. Gets on his nerves.”

Cherry jumped to his feet. The colour drained from his face. “He…really…said that?”

“I of course would never say such things, Cherry, I see your value.” He leaned aside and chuckled to himself. “He’s buying it. Serves you right, Wharton, for calling me fat ass.”

He joined Wharton downstairs, leaving Cherry pacing the bedroom in annoyance. Wharton was altogether in a better mood, gathering some fun snacks for the three of them to share. When he saw Bunter approaching, he smiled.

“Couldn’t trust me with the treats, eh Bunter? Your belly is fat enough!” he prodded Bunter’s stomach.

“Hehehe, yes, very true, Wharton, very true. I say, I don’t think Cherry was right about you at all.”

Wharton folded his arms. “What do you mean by that?”

“He was just now going on and on about how greedy you were and how if you didn’t stop guzzling sweets, you’d end up like old me.”

“He jolly said what?” Wharton’s eyebrows straightened and he huffed childishly. “And after I invited him to spend the summer with me. The cheek, Bunter!”

Bunter, once again with mischievous intent, chuckled aside to himself. He couldn’t believe how clever he was, how stupid they were, and how wonderful the days of the summer would be after all.

…

Upstairs as the boys sat eating cakes for their past-midnight snacks, Bunter sat on his bed next to Cherry who had moved across the room from Wharton after finding out what he thought about him. He glanced over at his former best friend and sighed. Had Wharton really betrayed him in such a way?

Meanwhile Wharton glanced over at the two boys giggling together as they read the comic book. It was Wharton’s favourite one, he’d waited weeks to have the opportunity to enjoy it with Cherry and now it was taken away by horrible words. How could Cherry and Bunter have become so close so quickly?

“I say, could you read less loudly please, chaps?” Wharton said.

“I’m surprised you don’t think I’m too idiotic to understand it!” Cherry said, rising to his feet.

“Oh, that’s how it is, is it? I have the right mind to give you a bunch of fives!”

“Now, now, fellows,” Bunter said, his eyes darting back and forth with mischief. “I’m trying to read in peace. What would old Quelch say if you saw you now?”

“He’d give old Cherry the cane for being un-sportsman-like!” Wharton called out, jumping on his bed.

“Yes, and maybe he could give you five hundred lines, all saying what a back-stabbing Brutus you are.”

Wharton rose to his feet and he and Cherry were now in the middle of the bedroom, eyes locked on one another, their fingers pointing at each other as they argued. Bunter watched on in fascination as the former pals shouted and shouted until they woke Wharton’s uncle.

“What is going on in here?” his uncle asked as the door swung open.

“I’m sorry, Uncle, just some cross words. We’ll keep it down.”

He shut the door and the two boys turned away from each other, folding their arms.

“Well, Bunter’s my best chum now, Harry,” Cherry said.

“Well, he’s mine too,” Wharton said. “He can choose which of us he prefers. Tomorrow midday by the lake!”

Bunter’s mischievous grin turned to a frown as his face contorted with expressions of exasperation. “Oh Lor’! Oh crikey! This is more work. It doesn’t sound fun at all. Cherry and Wharton are far more bearable when they were together!”

He waited until they were asleep and then set his new plan in motion. He couldn’t have either boy fighting over him, no matter how wonderful he was. It was a nuisance to have to maintain friendship and pretend he actually cared if they thought him the best. He rubbed his hands together under the covers. “Heehehe. If one of them was to have an accident near the lake, I’m sure the other would have no choice but to jump in and save him. Ha ha! Yes! I’m so brilliant and so clever! It’s no wonder both Cherry and Wharton want to be my best chum.”

…

At breakfast the next morning, the atmosphere between the boys was still chilly. Wharton and Cherry kept glancing at the other and where their expressions the night before were of anger, they now were of sadness, sadness at not speaking with a true friend and loneliness that their summertime chum was no longer on their side.

“Hello, hello, hello, is that kippers? Bunter, best pal of mine, do be so kind as to pass me a plate,” Cherry said, looking at Wharton quickly and then away again.

“Oh, stop it with your hello hellos, Cherry,” Wharton said, his eyes filling with tears. “If you and Bunter are such chums, then go off now and have your fun. I don’t know what you ever saw in silly old skinny Harry Wharton.” Wharton got up from the table and left the room.

Bunter giggled but Cherry looked down at the floor.

“Oh, don’t be insensitive, Bunter,” he said, “I think Harry’s upset.”

“But he said those beastly things to you.”

Cherry dabbed the sides of his mouth with his serviette. “Still, it’s not nice to see a chap so downcast.”

“Not long ‘til midday, Cherry, eh? Eh?” he nudged him.

“Yes, yes, alright, Bunter. I’ll meet you there.”

…

The day was more pleasant than any day of summer had been put together and as the blue sky with its whirling clouds continued to look wonderful above them, Wharton joined Bunter and Cherry by the lake who were glancing at the ducks which were gracefully swimming along.

“Oh, there you are, Wharton,” Bunter said. “About time too! You’re late, you beastly creature!”

Wharton looked at his watch. “It’s only two minutes past, don’t be so rigid, fat ass.”

“Well, have you decided yet?” Cherry asked.

“Decided what?”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Bunter,” Cherry said. “You need to pick one of us.”

“You’re not flowers, Cherry, I need time to think.”

“Well, you must prefer one of us chaps to the other,” Wharton said.

Bunter thought about it. He’d never given anything that much thought before and anyway, both boys were as annoying as the other. They had their good qualities of course but those good qualities were qualities Bunter avoided. Wharton possessed many more virtues than he, such as fairness and kindness, though he never realised it. And Cherry was brave and adventurous. But Wharton was also stubborn and Bunter knew he’d never be the first to apologise if he felt another was in the wrong. Having friends was exhausting, thought Bunter. No, let the two boys squabble and then make up and be best friends again.

He made his way over to Wharton and discreetly nudged him, forcing his body into the lake. Bunter couldn’t help but laugh the moment there was a splash.

“What did you do that for, Bunter?” Cherry exclaimed as he waded in to help Wharton out safely.

“Me? Nothing to do with me. Wharton fell.”

“I did not fall, you fat ass! You pushed me!” Wharton said as he and Cherry climbed out of the water, drenched, and their hair covered in moss.

“Whoops! I must’ve accidentally pushed you!”

“Get out of here, Bunter,” Wharton said. “You jolly well did it on purpose. And we stood up for you. Just a minute, did Bob really say all those awful things?”

“Well….” Bunter twiddled his thumbs.

“And did Harry really say I was stupid?” Cherry approached Bunter, looking over him.

“Well, I, oh cripes, oh lor’, it’s not as it seems chaps. I was almost starved from lack of sweets!”

Wharton patted Cherry on the shoulder. “I’d never say such things, Bob, old chum. We’re best pals, aren’t we?”

“I shouldn’t have believed him. And you shouldn’t have believed I’d say anything terrible about you.”

Bunter giggled, knowing he’d been caught out, trying to hide his behaviour. “I’ll just leave you boys to it.” His shuffles turned into a jog.

As he ran, Cherry was about to give chase when Wharton pulled him by the arm.

“Let him go, the fat ass needs all the exercise he can muster.”

“I really am sorry, Harry, I really do think we are great chums.”

“Yes, Bob, great chums. Bunter should never have come between us.”

“Hey, seeing as we’re already wet, why don’t we have a proper swim together?”

“In our clothes?”

“Come on, Harry, not scared, are you?”

“You wish, old thing.”

Together they jumped into the water, giggling and splashing the other.

“Bunter’s a scoundrel,” Wharton said. “And the cheek after our kind offer.”

“I can’t believe I fell for it. I suppose he’s right I’m not very bright!”

“Nonsense. You’re very bright, just ask Quelch.”

“Hello, hello, hello, I’m standing in something awfully sticky.”

“I don’t want to ask what it is.”

“Oh, I forgot, you don’t like me saying that hello hello stuff, do you?”

Wharton smiled, grabbed him in a sideways embrace and laughed. “I don’t mind at all, I was only saying it to rile you, honestly. And you wouldn’t be Bob without it.”

“And you like me the way I am?”

“Of course I do.”

“Come on, Harry, let’s hide all the food from Bunter.”

“That’s the cleverest thing I’ve heard you say!”

Chapter Text

Stars. In the fathomless darkness of that night sky, my eyes focus on those distant sparkling stars. My mind is in such a low place that I imagine the stars going out one by one, slowly disappearing out of my life, vanishing, filtering away until I can no longer remember what they look like. Will Jane now become like that too? She’s fading from me already and will soon disappear forever— a blink and she’s gone. And what about my own star, the one that burned so fiercely with passion and ideas in the old days? Jane says I’ve changed but I only see I have done what is needed, what is important to keep all the stars constantly shining.

I can’t sleep, have not slept a wink since Jane’s arrest and every time I close my eyes, her face it haunts me like a phantom. She calls to me. She whispers my name in my ear. “Paul, Paul.” I shiver at the sound of her voice lingering in the darkness. That beautiful voice now just an echo.

“Jane, how could you do this to me?” I whisper to her empty wheelchair which now occupies the space where she once was.

She’s misguided, she’s betrayed me. But I still love her. I could never forget that I love her. I could never stop loving her. No matter her crime, her views, her mistakes, she will always be the one I love. She was right that I found it difficult to love though. All my life, I have been fond of people, I have had acquaintances, and friends of sorts, and colleagues and school friends and all of that business, but to love, to really feel those emotions inside of you, to want and need someone that deeply, well that was only ever her. It was only ever when I looked into those large eyes and saw her smiling back at me that I wanted to change the world for her.

And it isn’t all about love either. That’s where she’s wrong. Sometimes it’s about making a better life for the people around you, for their own good, whether they believe that or not. I hate the necessity in death, but to build a future, surely there must be sacrifices? And yet, I question it now. With her not sitting here, I question everything. I was so certain. I still am. But I was always certain about her and now it has all changed. There is a wound in my heart that is deeper than any well, any reservoir with any happiness chemical. If I could take that miracle drug it still would not cure me of the pain I feel at losing her. Why would she want to live in a society that made you feel like this, which makes you feel dirty and weak and miserable? I don’t want to feel like this.

And now she is gone and so are her beliefs and views and passions. Am I left the monster now she told me I was without her at my side? And now I sit and stare at that place where she once occupied, expecting her to appear at the door in her wheelchair, wondering when I’ll hear her voice calling in the darkness again. But she is not there. It is only that echo— a million voices of many years of life together. All that keeps me company now is my thoughts as they race around my brain.

I wipe the tears away. There’s been many since I found out. I’ve cried an ocean at her betrayal and I don’t cry, never have done. I have felt pain and loss within me, but I have never easily surrendered to tears. Somehow it makes me feel weak and yet I cannot stop, cannot stop this downpour of emotions and this grief that consumes every part of me. I sob. I weep. I wail. I sound like the monster she has painted me as. I look at my tired eyes in the mirror, how red they are. She was wearing red when she was taken. I was seeing red when she was taken. But the red showed that she had passion within her and love for what she thought was right. But I have conviction for my own beliefs even if they differ from hers and that red top showed that part of her was the devil to me where she had once been my loving angel. She’d been my loyal wife, my best friend, and now she has been lured to the other side. Michael has ensnared her somehow, trapped her in his exciting web of lies. And now she is trapped in a cell that may destroy her and if she is destroyed, will I be too?

What will I do without her? How will I get up in the morning and live day to day? How will I carry out the plans I have made when the one person I care about above all others believes they make me a monster? I did everything for her. For a world that was better for her. But she rejected me. She rejected it. I am rejected.

I glance out of the window again and the stars are still there, still shining, still blinking, still existing in that vast universe that we do not even begin to understand and I still do not understand her. Her star is fading. I’m fading without her light, but I know I must go on. Whilst the stars still shine I must go on.

Chapter Text

Climbing into the back of the taxi, Callan shut the door behind him and patted the front seat.

“Alright, get going into the city,” he said, not paying attention.

Suddenly a man turned around from the driver’s seat and for the first time Callan realised it wasn’t Lonely sitting there, but a man wearing a bejewelled cap and light grey suit. “Hello, my little lamb, Lonely’s indisposed I’m afraid.”

Callan leaned back and did a double-take. “Who the hell are you, sunshine?”

The man’s smile widened. “Ooh sunshine, oh I like that. Well, you see, Lonely had to leave and I was asked to fill in his big red shoes. Though mine are more ruby slippers.”

“Who the hell asked you to take over?”

He pouted his lips. “Well, I’m not sure I should reveal that kind of information. For all I know you’re not Mr. Callan and you’re some brute wishing to strip me naked and torture me for information.”

“I am bleedin’ Mr Callan, and I definitely don’t want to strip you, and you mate, are grating on my last nerve. What’s your name?”

“I don’t think you should know my real name, I’m incognito!” He laughed for a good while before coming to an abrupt stop. “You can call me chauffeur.”

“But you’re a taxi driver?”

“Not usually, my little lamb. I drive high-class limos.” He handed Callan his card.

“Oh yes, really incognito.” He stuck the card in his pocket. “Look, listen up, mate, this job isn’t a cute little drive around for celebrities and rich girls, this is an important business. So, if you’re gonna drive me then we need some ground rules.”

“Ooh I say, I do love a man who lays down the law.”

“I’m serious.”

“Alright, alright, I’ve got you. I’ll be on my best behaviour, Mr. Callan, I promise.”

Callan sighed. “Fine, let’s just get on with it.” He suddenly narrowed his eyes and looked at the young man closely. “You look familiar.”

“Took after me old mum, God help her. And took after me dad with the receding hairline, isn’t it awful?” He took off his cap to reveal a mostly bald head.

“No, no, never mind the slap head, you remind me of someone I know.” Callan, to his own surprise started to laugh. “Bloody hell, he’s never going to believe this.”

Instinctively the Chauffeur also laughed. “Who?”

“My colleague, a Mr. Toby Meres to you, you could be twins.”

“Someone like me, eh? Ooh I say, that is a menace to society.”

“Well other than looks you’re not really similar in any way, mate.”

“I’d quite like to meet this Toby Meres.”

“Well, you’re in luck, we’re picking him up on the way to base.” Callan gave the chauffeur directions and then was subjected to a long conversation about how he’d really wanted to be an agent to the stars but had fallen on hard times.

“It’s all rather distressing, darling, my line of work.”

Callan shook his head in disbelief. “Distressing, is it? You should try my line of business…darlin’.”

“Ooh struck a nerve. Oh, that must be your friend.” He rolled down the window as the car pulled to a halt. “Hello, little lamb.”

Meres laughed at the sight of this strange creature leaning out of the window in a bejewelled cap, waving at him with a limp wrist. Meres climbed in the cab regardless. “I say, Lonely, you’ve had a miraculous transformation. What do we call you now? Sunshine?”

“He’s not Lonely,” Callan said with a sigh. “Never thought I’d miss the smell of him. This is our new chauffeur for the time being. His particular smell is aftershave to the excess.”

“Mr Callan if you smelt my pits when I’d been driving all day, you’d be glad of my overdosing on the cologne.”

Callan smirked as he looked back and forth between the Chauffeur and Meres. He folded his arms and nudged Meres. “So…uh, Toby, does he remind you of anyone?”

Meres rubbed his chin. “Elton John…minus the glasses?”

“No, no, look closer.”

Meres leaned forward into the front seat and glanced at him carefully. “Bloody hell.”

“Either your dad had it away at some point thirty years ago or your enemies have finally found a way to clone you.”

“It’s intriguing,” Meres said. “Not what I had in mind for a double though.”

The Chauffeur looked at them through the rear-view mirror and winked. “Isn’t it incredible, Toby. Can I call you Toby? I always say Toby sounds a bit like a puppy dog.”

“It’s Meres.” Meres said it sternly and with little emotion.

“Ooh I say, he’s more frightening than you my little lamb,” the Chauffeur said at Callan.

“Look, mate, just drive to the address I told you right? I don’t even want to think about there being two of you to look at.”

“Where on earth did they find him?” Meres whispered aside. “He’s as camp as Christmas tree with a fairy on top and dangling glittery baubles.”

“I keep thinking we’ve been had. Hunter’s little joke on us or he’s KGB and they’re just really kinky.”

“I’ve known some kinky KGB. The K stands for Kinky. But this isn’t their style. Camp and dainty, no, we’ve been set up by our own.”

“Let’s just see what happens.”

It was at that moment that there was a screech of a car behind them and then the sound of a gunshot. Suddenly the car behind was trying to ram-rod them.

There was a high-pitched scream from the driver’s seat as he struggled to keep the vehicle intact. “Oh heck, I’ve never been able to keep anything straight, I’m losing control!”

Meres grabbed his collar. “Old son, enough of the commentary, just ignore them and drive you fool.”

“It’s very hard to concentrate when someone’s rear-ending you.”

“I’m sure that’s not too much of a problem for you, old boy,” Meres said.

The Chauffeur whilst still shrieking managed to maintain a good speed and had turned into a quiet road where the other car got stuck in traffic. “Now where?”

“Just keep driving where we tell you,” Callan told him.

…

With Callan and Meres’ help, the Chauffeur had managed to drive them to a secluded barn where they were out of sight of the pursuing car and any danger.

The Chauffeur was pacing back and forth, clutching his chest. “Oh heck, I’ve nearly had a heart-attack.”

“Will you sit down?” Callan said. “Giving me a right ‘eadache.”

He sat on command and started looking around at the barn. “There could be a lot of talk about three young men in a barn, you know?”

“Just stop talking, old boy,” Meres said, just as annoyed as Callan was. They sat away from him, gathering their thoughts as they sat on a bale of hay.

“How do we get rid of him?” Callan asked.

“I’m afraid, old son, I think we’re rather stuck with the old fruit. I had dreams of meeting my doppelganger once, frolicking naked with him by a lake or in stable. Didn’t realise my double would be Kenneth Williams.”

“Carry on Cabs?”

They both laughed.

“Shall we get him back in the cab and get him back to whatever rainbow he came down on?” Meres asked. He patted the Chauffeur on the shoulder. “Come on Dorothy, let’s get you back to Kansas.”

“You’re going to get me home? Oh, my little lamb-dumplings!” He threw his arms around Meres and then Callan who he reserved a kiss on the cheek.

“Alright, alright, no need for thanks,” Callan said. “You’re driving.”

“And there’ll be no one shooting at me?”

“Can’t promise that,” Meres said, holding onto his gun tightly. “With your personality it must be a daily hazard.”

“How you wound a fellow who could be your brother.”

“Don’t worry, mate, his personality is just cold and sadistic,” Callan said.

“Sadism, eh? You like to whip and torture and all that?” the Chauffeur asked, almost salivating.

“Steady on, don’t get excited,” Callan said.

“And what about you Mr. Callan, what are your… predilections?”

“Never you mind, don’t get randy. Just get in the car.”

The Chauffeur turned to Meres. “Ooh, isn’t he sexy when he’s angry?”

With a grin, Meres nodded. “Yes, I just can’t get enough of David.” He looked at Callan closely, leaning right in. “Those eyes, that stern brow, those little wrinkles on the forehead. Makes you want to ravage him right here.”

“Typical, isn’t it? They make me work with two of ‘em!” Callan shook his head, wanting to wake from the nightmare. “Lonely, all is forgiven, come back!”

Chapter Text

Through the window of the elegant café on the corner, Victor Stride could see Evie sitting at a table alone, sipping a coffee from a fine China cup and watching the people around her with great interest. She exuded such elegance, such beauty, such confidence. He sighed to himself, wondering how he’d got it so wrong in their last meetings, how he’d hurt her so badly, how he’d betrayed her trust and nearly ruined her work and reputation. The dress she wore clearly showed how talented she was, how fresh and exciting her ideas were— how she was the future of the fashion world he loved so much. He was fading out of style more and more every day but she would not.

He hesitated for a moment, then took one step towards the door and stopped again. Finally, he took a deep breath and forced himself inside. He didn’t remember reaching her table but when he stood there, she looked even more radiant up-close, her dark hair complimented under a shimmering headband of dark green and the matching green dress was embellished with crystals around the edges in a design that both flattered her figure and drew the eye to her beauty.

“Miss. Eliott,” he said softly, so softly in fact that she didn’t seem to hear him and was still glancing down upon the menu. He coughed.

She looked up and her soft lips turned into a frown. “Oh. It’s you.”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss. Evie.”

“Are you?” She looked away. He was so handsome that it annoyed her. How someone so gentle, so polite and beautiful could treat her as he did, she couldn’t understand. She allowed herself to glance at him, just for a second and take in his appearance—the flecks of grey at his temples, the debonair blue suit, the sad eyes and lined face that seemed tired and lonely.

“May I sit down with you?”

She shrugged. “I suppose so. Bea wouldn’t like it.”

“Since when have you done what your sister wanted?”

“I don’t. I just appreciate her wisdom in such circumstances. You’ve got five minutes.”

“Then I’ll start right away.” He sat down, not taking his eyes from her. “You know I have already apologised and explained.”

“Yes, months ago. Sorry, Victor, but I can’t just forget how you betrayed me. I admired you so much, perhaps too much.”

“Sweet Evie,” he said in a soft and soothing whisper. “It was never my intention.”

Evie tried not to get lost in the voice of Mr. Stride, the voice that seemed to make her want to forgive him. She glanced downward. “It never is, Victor, that’s what you always say but the truth is you’re…spineless.”

Victor pursed his lips. “Perhaps you’re right, I could never say no to such beauty and I could never say no to Yolande. Truth was, she was so inspiring in those days. To lose that was a great blow.”

“I understand that but Bea and I had no right to be used to help her.” Evie was determined not to allow him to come off as victim. She took a slow sip of her coffee.

“Yolande left me.”

“I’m sorry for that, Victor, you clearly loved her. But can’t you see she was using you?”

“Maybe for a time, not always. You didn’t know her, Evie, when she was young. How she lit the world alight with her flame. She was so like you. When I saw your work, oh how I thought it was like she had been re-born in you.”

“But I’m not Yolande, I’m me. I can’t be her, Victor, I can only be myself. I’m sorry you’re stuck in the past, but Bea and I look to the future. We design for the modern woman, not a bitter old one who can’t move ahead.”

There was a pause before Victor spoke. “She doesn’t need me anymore so none of that matters now.” The tears filled his eyes. “She could no longer inspire ideas and no longer love me either. I too have fallen out of fashion.”

Evie felt a sense of sympathy for a moment for a man who was broken and pathetic, wanting to make amends.

“Would you have come here begging for forgiveness if Yolande was still in your life?”

He thought for a moment. “Love is a very powerful emotion, Evie, it makes us act in strange ways.”

Taking another quick glance over him, Evie felt goosepimples forming on her bare arms. “It certainly does.”

He took her hand in his. “All I ask, dear Evie, is that you can forgive me before I go.”

She shivered at the sound of his soft whispering voice. “Go? Victor, are you leaving?”

With a gentle laugh which Evie noticed creased the skin around his grey-blue eyes, Victor tapped his hands on the tablecloth. “Alas, I’m returning to Paris to an old magazine I wrote for an age ago. I feel I’ve squandered my time here and made enemies of people I wish I’d not. I couldn’t leave without a final apology, some sense that you could in part forgive me.”

She stared at him for a moment or two and then placed her spoon onto the saucer. “How did you know I’d be here?”

“I confess I saw you come in here a few weeks ago and I’ve noticed you come every day and I’ve been plucking up the courage to talk to you, lay my eyes upon you.”

“Some might call that following, Victor.”

“Oh Evie, you make it sound so sinister. I saw you by chance and wanted to make amends. Please don’t make me feel worse than I already do. I have lost everything, don’t make me lose your opinion as well.”

She sighed, looked upward, trying to ignore the tears stinging in her eyes and finally looked at him. “I don’t hold any animosity toward you, Victor, that was Bea. I was upset by your betrayal and in some strange way I understood why you did it. But does it matter if I forgive you or not?”

“It does.”

“Very well, I forgive you.” She smiled.

“Ah that beautiful smile, I never thought I’d see it again.”

“It didn’t go anywhere.”

He grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Oh, Miss. Evie, sweet Evie, you don’t know how much this means to a stupid old fool.”

“Don’t get carried away, Victor. It is I who always sought your high approval, not the other way around.”

“Then you know me little. True, my name holds much weight in the fashion writing world, but Evie you’ve only just begun. Your name will go far, everyone will know the House of Eliott, trust me.”

“And I’ll end up like old Yolande in twenty years, stealing others’ work and miserable without an idea of my own?” Evie shook her head.

“Yolande was one of a kind. She blazed fast and extinguished. Your flame will burn longer, I’m sure of that.”

“I hope so.”

“I know it. I knew as soon as I saw your drawings and your work and business, you and your sister had it. But especially you, Evie, you’re a star, brighter than any other. You’ll never burn out in fact. I truly believe that. I hope one day, long into the future before I’m dead in the ground, you’ll think on me and invite me to a show. And I’ll sit in that audience and clap and won’t care that it was I who discovered your talent, just be proud of it.”

“You have faith in me?”

“I do.” He nodded shyly.

“Then perhaps one day I’ll feel able to do just that. I don’t hold grudges, Victor, I can’t go on with this being angry with you.”

He smiled. “Can I buy you another coffee, a slice of cake perhaps?”

She smiled shyly. “I couldn’t possibly.”

“No, no, I insist. Wait there.”

He made his way to the counter and Evie watched him as he collected their order. She felt so many things in that moment. Her heartbeat quickened; her lips felt dry. She was nervous and unsure. She had no idea how to act around him. She’d once been flirty with him but now she had to remain professional, didn’t she?

When he returned, his smile and eyes were warm and Evie noticed his eyes scan over her. He placed down the tray. “Jam and cream sponge, I think.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m sure it’ll go straight to the hips and then I won’t even fit in my own designs.” She laughed. She’d always had a healthy appetite.

“Never.” He took a long sip of his coffee and continued to gaze at her.

“Victor?” Evie said, looking down at her cup. “Do you really find the fashion I design beautiful or is it just me that you find so?”

With an embarrassed snort, Victor pushed his plate away. “I…I admit I find you most beguiling and I have grown to care for you in ways I never expected especially since my feelings for Yolande have dissolved. But, no, Evie, it is not simply your physical appearance.” He waved his hands with an expressive elegant flourish. “It’s your passion and creativity and talent and all those other things. I’m sorry if I’ve made you think otherwise. I…want nothing from you, only your forgiveness. We can be friends?”

She took a moment and then breathed heavily and sat up in her chair with confidence. “Yes, I think I can manage that.”

“Then you might look me up in Paris, find this old fool and take pity on him?”

She laughed. “I shall never think of you as old, Victor!”

“You flatter me. I shall finish this coffee and then leave you to your future. I’ve taken up too much of your present already.”

“And I shall try to forget our past and start from here. I could write to you if you like?”

“That would be most wonderful.” He crossed his leg over the other and played with a loose thread on the knee.

“Of course I won’t be telling you any of my ideas in case you tell a famous Parisian designer who has little inspiration of her own.” She peered coyly over the cup with a smirk.

He laughed. “A very wise girl.” He stood up and took her hand and kissed it again. “Maybe it’s not correct of me to do this in public.”

“I don’t care what other people think.”

“No, I have always admired you for that.”

“Take care, Victor.”

“Take care, Evie.”

He looked back at her one last time as he left.

Chapter Text

His eyes narrowing in the intense midday sun, Patrick smiled as the heat of the summer seemed to warm his tired body but his stimulated mind in equal measure. He sighed softly and then glanced over at Beth who was sunbathing on the lounger next to him, sporting a large pair of sunglasses so she resembled a movie star. He’d spent years living with another woman and many nights with other women in between but Beth was different. Beth was a first for him. He’d come to know everything about her but still felt a thrill that there was more to find out.

He rolled over onto his lightly bronzed chest and looked at her, grinning. “This really suits you.”

She pulled her sunglasses down. “Idling away?”

Laughing, he leaned across and kissed her shoulder. “I was going to say being relaxed. You were always so tense with James around.”

“Well it suits you too.”

Patrick grinned. “Me? Nah, this is me every other Sunday.”

“I see. Where you take all your older women to, is it?”

“That would be telling.”

“I rather think you’re used to a faster life than this one. Speeding along a dangerous road, never knowing what path to choose.”

“Every road has a bump or two. And every so often a little quiet path, a detour from the main road, can be good for the soul.”

“Ours was quite the rocky start.” She grabbed the suntan lotion. “Put some on me, would you?”

As he rubbed the lotion on her back, she continued to talk. “Of course, I know you did open up to me about that whole business with the car but I do wonder how far it would’ve all gone.”

Patrick stopped rubbing. “It wouldn’t have gone any further, I was never going to do it.”

“Never? So, at the beginning, when we first met, not even then?”

“Well, who knows what would’ve happened back then? But I don’t think so.”

“I do wonder though.”

He kissed her shoulder. “You shouldn’t worry about that now. I didn’t do it. James’ mistake was that he thought I would, and he underestimated you too.”

“My mistake was trusting him in the first place.”

After Patrick had applied the lotion, he was silent for a moment before rolling over once more onto his back and sighing deeply.

“You’re also very thoughtful today. Not thinking about Nikki?”

“Hmm?” He glanced at her, his mind still drifting. “Oh no, no! Don’t worry about that.”

“But do you miss her?”

“Not particularly. She was a child really.”

Beth frowned and took a slow sip of her cocktail before taking a moment to get the sentence just right. She knew full well that Nikki was not a child and that their ages matched far better than Patrick and her own. “But do you…do you ever feel guilty?”

“About what we did?”

“To her, I mean. James is an detestable man, always was. I don’t feel too bad about him, but what about her? I hardly knew her, but you did.”

Patrick sat forward. “She wasn’t an innocent victim let me tell you.”

“I know that, but that wasn’t what I asked.”

“I don’t really know how to answer.” He thought for a moment. “When you’re with someone for a few years you do get to know them. So yes, I suppose on some level, I feel some guilt at the way it was left and the lack of closure of that chapter, but then the life we chose together wasn’t ever traditional. We knew what we were doing and where it could lead. She had many men and I had many women. And on one such occasion when we got ours mixed up, we had the other way ‘round. But Jeremy was terribly nice.” He chuckled to himself.

But Beth wasn’t laughing, instead she was curious about the lives of escorts. “Where could that kind of life lead?”

“Jealousy, mostly. There was always a bit of that even if we never said it.”

“And what else?”

“Inevitable betrayal.”

“I see.”

“And even less anticipated, falling in love, that was one I never saw coming.”

Beth smiled. “And sometimes all three at once. Were you in love with her at all, Nikki I mean?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I think I thought I was. I think I thought I knew everything; you know? But then…” He smiled at her, touched her cheek gently and then kissed her softly on the lips. When he broke apart, he continued. “But then you came along and changed it all. I saw things differently.”

“Of course, this could all be an elaborate rouse and you’re stringing me along. Any moment now, Nikki will appear from on one of those deck chairs and I’ll be discarded like yesterday’s supper.”

“Well, I hate to say it, Beth, darling, but you just never know in our game.” He burst into laughter.

She hit him on the arm. “Oh, wonderful, make a lady feel safe why don’t you?”

He leaned in close again, and spoke in whispers. “Didn’t you hear, some old girl might’ve died? Her car ran clean off the road? I wonder who did that?”

“Call me old girl again and I’ll drive you over a cliff.”

“Ah but I love you.”

“Stop it. I find it hard to be annoyed with you when you’re saying things like that.”

“I notice you never say it.”

“Oh, darling, really.”

“You don’t. Don’t you feel it?”

She swatted him away. “You know I do. I’ve never been good with expressing my emotions, talking about it all aloud. Remember you had terrible trouble getting me to open up to you?”

“I do. Getting into your head’s like cracking a safe. Getting into your bed’s even trickier.”

She swatted him again. “I see I’m going to have trouble with you.”

Patrick was about to reply, when suddenly he sat to attention and looked to the distance, using his hand as a sunshield. His eyes, despite half-closing in the glare, seemed also alert.

“What is it?” She sat up to look.

“Nothing, nothing, I just thought…” his voice trailed off.

“What?”

“I’m obviously going mad. I thought I saw Nikki.”

“And as you put it, Nikki is rather obvious looking. How do you know it’s not another young skinny blonde thing on her holidays?”

“Well, yes, I suppose. There are a lot of young skinny blonde things about these days.”

…

In the hotel bar later that evening Patrick was kitted out in his comfortable denim shorts and a white shirt that was completely open. Beth had chosen an elegant flowery dress that her new lover couldn’t seem to resist her in. It was whilst he was fetching them both a drink that he spotted the blonde woman again, from the corner of his eye. He did a double-take and spun around but when he looked again she was gone.

“Patrick, dear,” Beth said, clinging onto his arm. “You’re ever so pale for someone in such a hot place.”

“I just, thought I saw…”

“Not Nikki again? She’s not here.” She held his head in her hands and kissed his hair. “It’s not her. It’s just us. The two of us. They didn’t follow us.”

He smiled. “Of course.” He scratched the back of his neck.

Beth leaned forward and looked out the window, squinting her eyes carefully. “If you’re going mad then so am I. There’s a man outside who looks awfully like James.”

“Many old men look awfully like James unfortunately.”

“See you’ve got us both twitching and fussing over them. They’re not here. We are! We’re supposed to be free. That’s why we did this, surely?”

He grabbed her and embraced her. “I love you.”

She was silent for a moment before finally speaking. “I love you too I suppose.”

He smiled and took her hand, leading out onto the veranda. The wind had picked up ever so slightly and the evening sun was beginning to fade into night. Beth felt a chill run down her body and she shuddered. Patrick felt her body tense as his hand laid gently across her back. He felt so happy with her, so content in her company, so full of love that he had never felt before. But why was there an uneasy feeling rising in the pit of his stomach?

She was still tense for several moments. “You alright?” he asked gently.

“Felt a sudden chill that’s all.”

“My magic fingers tend to have that effect on women.”

“I’m serious, Patrick, I feel strange.”

“You told me not to get jumpy and now you’re feeling strange things. Come on, let’s get back to the hotel suite. Only good things await us there.”

“Yes, you’re right. All silliness as usual.”

Walking into the hotel, they arrived at the lift where Patrick pressed the button. Stepping inside, he suddenly leaned forward as the doors began to close. A woman with blonde hair was running along the hallway alongside a grey-haired older man, towards the staircase.

“Beth, did you see?”

“Yes, but it couldn’t be…could it?”

As they looked again, the doors suddenly closed and they made their ascent. They both clung onto each other’s hands. They had to be imagining things, didn’t they? Their romance had happened so fast, their betrayals, their entanglements, their bluffs and lies, it all lead to this place at this time, to their fears and guilt and uncertainties. Was it really them they were seeing or were they clinging onto the past?

Floor 2. Floor 3. Floor 4. Each number sent a shiver down their spines as slowly and surely they went up floor by floor. Then a bell rang and finally the door started to open on floor 10. They clung tighter to each other’s hands as the doors began to part, sliding across slowly.

“It’s almost like I was meant to die in that crash,” Beth said slowly, “as though I’m not really here.”

“More like we’re the ones being haunted.”

The doors fully opened and they stood together looking out and there was nothing, just a quiet, empty hallway. They waited. And waited. Nothing came. No one arrived.

“Do you think we’ll ever be rid of them?” Beth asked.

“I don’t know. As long as I’m never rid of you.”

Chapter Text

In the Grandee Hotel— a Spanish style place— the assistant manager, Geoffrey Staines—a very un-Spanish man, sat behind the reception desk looking over the booking forms.

“It never changes, does it?” he said, leaning his arm on the desk. “Same old clients.”

“You what?” Eileen called from the back.

“I said…I said…” he sighed. “Oh, what’s the use, who cares?”

“I heard you,” she replied, coming into view. “And it isn’t all the same. We have a few new guests today.”

He licked his finger and turned the page on the ledger. “Ah yes, the toffs and the queers, that’s all we get these days.”

“I thought you didn’t mind the toffs and the queers. You said the toffs brought money and the queers brought style.”

He laughed. “And if they’re both, then double the fun. The toffs are only here because they can get away with the seedy stuff, the queers, well…”

“Then what are you moaning about?”

“Where are the birds?”

“In the trees where they ought to be.”

“Very drole. I meant the women, didn’t I? There’s a few mistresses knockin’ about with geezers old enough to be their granddads but the single care-free girls, where are they?”

“They’re avoiding you, Geoffrey.”

“Charming.” He grabbed her and kissed her neck. “Are you saying I’ve got a reputation?”

“You’re still married.”

“On paper only.”

“And your daughter’s out back, best not to criticise her mother or kiss me in front of her.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, love. She’s seen her mother in many a tryst with fellas.”

At that moment a little girl appeared, pig-tails in her hair with a rosy complexion and a little summer dress. She looked the opposite of her father who was scowling.

“Hello love,” Geoffrey said, picking her up and seating her on the bar. “Daddy’s working today, isn’t he? Wanna help?”

“Can I help book in the customers?”

“Guests, but yeah of course you can.”

“Hello, how do you do?” the girl, Angela, practised.

“She’s already better than you,” Eileen quipped.

It was as Angela was practising that two guests arrived carrying suitcases. The two men were laughing together as they placed down their luggage onto the floor.

“We’re booked in under the name of Manders,” the younger fair-haired man said, taking out a piece of paper and smiling at the little girl as he did so.

“Well that all seems to be in order, sir,” Geoffrey said, rubbing his hands together. “Once you’re settled in, the Madrid Bar will be open for dinner.”

“Thanks,” the darker haired man said with a grin. “Bunny and I love a good meal.”

Geoffrey smiled widely and mouthed ‘Bunny’ silently to Eileen.

“We can take our own bags,” Manders said cheerfully, picking up his suitcase from the floor, showcasing an impressive pair of denim flares.

Geoffrey watched them leave and then smiled again. “Queers.”

…

Clicking his fingers in the impatient way he always did, Geoffrey watched as Eileen arrived in the bar, scowling. It was evening time and the place was now busy, filled with the sounds of clinking glasses and constant chatter.

“When did your last servant die off, Geoffrey?”

“She hasn’t yet.” He clocked her unamused expression. “Alright, alright, love, it was what we call a joke. You couldn’t get us some more glasses, could you?”

He ignored her reply as he saw one of the guests waving him over to his table.

Geoffrey leaned in, poshing his voice up ever so slightly, though he didn’t know why he bothered when the guest was as common as he was. “What can I do for you, Mr. Callan?”

“Don’t suppose my friend’s arrived yet, has he? A Mr. Toby Meres?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

“You’ll tell me when he does?”

“What does the gentleman look like?”

“Tall, thin, a face you want to smack. Bit like yours really.”

Geoffrey laughed awkwardly. “Very funny, Mr. Callan.” He wanted to smack this Callan bloke too. “Have you perused the wine list?”

“I’ve perused it, yeah.”

“And?”

“Off you go, mate. Not at these prices.”

“Sir, these are the finest Spanish wines.”

“Yeah, well, I could fly to Spain and get them cheaper.”

“Very good.” Geoffrey’s fake smile turned to a frown as his back turned to his guest. “Keep an eye on him, Eileen, he’s trouble.” He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where’s Angela?”

“She’s gone to talk to those two gentleman.”

“The queers or the toffs?”

“Both I imagine. Best not to go around calling them that though, Geoffrey.”

“You know I couldn’t care less what they are as long as they bring the dosh, love.”

“Well, anyway, their names are Raffles and Bunny.”

“Of course they are. So, you find out what they do for a living?”

“They’re very nice.”

“And they do for a living?”

“One’s a cricketer, and one’s a writer.”

“Those aren’t real jobs, Eileen. It’s not hard graft like we do here.”

“Oh, please! Just take them their drinks over.”

“Angela!” Geoffrey said as he arrived at Raffles and Bunny’s table. “Don’t disturb the gentlemen.”

“Nonsense, she’s charming,” Raffles said.

“Is she yours?” Bunny asked.

“Half mine, half the wife’s. Angela she’s called, Angel with an extra A, isn’t it, love, because you’re so good?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He tapped her head. “Toddle off, sweetheart, go bother Eileen.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Angela asked.

“No, no, nothing like that. Just a friend of daddy’s. Hop it.” He tapped her lightly on the bottom and then watched her leave. “Can’t train the staff these days.” He laughed but realised Raffles and Bunny’s faces were as still as a quiet ocean. “How are you liking the Madrid room?”

“It’s rather…unlike Madrid,” Raffles said quietly.

Geoffrey, hearing the comment, gritted his teeth. Of course this Raffles had actually been to bloody Spain and not the touristy places with drunk Brits either, the real stuff with the museums and galleries. “Very good, sir, call if you need anything.”

He turned away and leaned against the bar, sighing and mopping his brow.

“Excuse me, can we order?” a woman’s voice said.

Geoffrey spun around to be greeted with a familiar face. It was Harriet Peterson, a female barrister and someone who often met clients in the bar.

“Of course, love, same as usual?”

“Yes, thank you Mr. Staines. This is my colleague, Mr. Eliot.”

Geoffrey looked him up and down. “Pleasure, sir. Hope you enjoy all the Grandee has to offer.”

“Thank you.”

Looking the man, Mr. Eliot, up and down, Geoffrey couldn’t help but feel envious that the man was the same age as he but looked so handsome and turned out.

“He seems a bit much,” James Eliot said whispering, assuming Geoffrey was out of earshot. “All part of the act?”

“Oh yes, he lays it on a bit thick but he’s harmless. Likes to think he’s in Spain when really it’s only the North Orbital Road.”

“What’s his name?”

“Geoffrey Staines and they say, ‘Staines by name, Stains by nature. Once he’s there, he’s very hard to remove.”

Behind their backs, Geoffrey stuck his two fingers up at them. “Bloody toffs, and a bit rich coming from crooked lawyers.” He slammed his hand on the desk at reception and sighed as Eileen approached him. “I get no respect, do you know that?”

“You wouldn’t be assistant manager if that was true,” she said grabbing some papers.

He took her arm and spun her into an embrace. “Don’t you shun me too, love, you’re all I’ve got here. I help run a fine establishment and what kind of respect do they show me? Well, none, that’s what. I can’t give them the world, so I bring them the world here and all they do is complain and mock and look down their noses.”

Eileen looked up and kissed Geoffrey quickly on the lips. “You’re too sensitive, that’s your trouble. They’re just guests, Geoffrey, guests with jobs to do. Some of them come here for seedy dealings or extra marital affairs, but it’s none of our business and we don’t care what they think or say, do we?”

He kissed her head. “Suppose not. I just want Angela to see Daddy as the King of the castle and not the squire.”

“And she does. God knows why, but that little girl adores you.”

He glanced over to the back room where he could see Angela playing with one of her dolls. “You think so? Well, she plays her cards right, she can work here with me someday.”

“Oh, don’t ruin it Geoff.” She smirked. “Oh, look, Raffles and Bunny are calling you over.”

Geoffrey sighed, adjusted his collar and began to make his way toward their table. When he approached, he could hear them talking about flared trousers.

“I point blank refuse to give in to modern trends, Bunny. Mine are perfect as they are. A man should not have to defend the lack of flares upon his trouser.”

“I’m merely stating, A.J, dear, that we have been in the 1970’s for years and you’re still living in the past.”

“And I like it here, Bunny, please leave me be.” He clocked Geoffrey hovering behind a menu. “Ah, my good man, a bottle of your finest champagne please.”

“Very well. A celebration, sir?”

“Yes, my friend here has an article published.”

“The Sun or the Daily Mirror?” He laughed at his own joke.

Raffles seemed offended. “The Sun? The Daily Mirror? Why don’t you go the full hog and accuse Bunny of posing topless on page three.”

“I wish not to offend,” Geoffrey said, poshing up his accent again. “Congratulations on your writing successes, Mr. Manders.”

Bunny blushed. “Uh…thank you.”

Raffles was about to reply when a tall, dark-haired man came over.

“I’ve been stood at your bloody reception five minutes, old son, and no one answered the damn bell.”

“And you are, sir?” Geoffrey asked, feeling a headache coming on.

“Mr. Meres, meeting a chap called Callan, is he here?”

“He’s been here a while, sir, thinks you’ve stood him up.”

Meres looked over and could see David Callan folding his arms and then tapping his watch impatiently.

Geoffrey ignored the petulant behaviour of Meres and headed back to reception where three men were wearing dressing gowns. He sighed. They must be escaped lunatics from the local institute or ready for some sort of orgy. He didn’t have the energy to deal with it.

“And you are?” he asked them, standing back a pace.

“I’m Figgis, this is Glover and Norman. We’d like a bottle of your finest.”

“Would you like any rooms?”

“No, we’ve got to be back at the hospital before midnight.”

“A bit like Cinderella if she broke her foot instead of lost her shoe,” Norman Binns said.

“We’ve escaped Matron,” Glover said. “So, drinks all around!” he said, shoving a ten-pound note into Geoffrey’s pocket.

Smirking, Geoffrey looked at Eileen. “Such characters, such idiots but with lots of money. Perhaps these guests aren’t so bad after all.”