The boys began optimistically enough. ‘Look at this,’ exclaimed Harry. ‘Live-in housekeeper job for a music-industry professional spending two months in France. The salary’s loads! Enough for both of us, seeing as we’d get room and board. We could share the job.’
‘Not sure an employer would view it quite like that,’ Clancy put in cautiously.
They dismissed that obstacle but became glum about the requirements for references and experience. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Harry put together what he thought was a ‘killer’ email applying for the job and received, within the hour, a response saying that their application would be kept on file.
‘Wonder how long before we get a proper answer?’ Harry asked, grinning at Rory.
Clancy felt honour-bound to point out, gently, that ‘application on file’ almost always meant no.
‘Oh.’ Harry looked disappointed for only a minute. ‘But, look, there’s this job at a London club. A turndown attendant.’
‘What’s that?’ Rory and Clancy asked in unison. Clancy was quite glad she didn’t need to drive tonight because she was already on her second glass of wine.
‘Erm, sort of housekeeper,’ Harry decided, reading the job description. ‘Let’s both apply, Rory.’
By the time they’d – optimistically in Clancy’s opinion – applied for a couple of other vacancies that came with accommodation, it was dusk outside and the lads were ready to move on. Clancy offered to stick with them, thinking dubiously that perhaps she should try and find them somewhere they might meet other gay couples of their age, preferably somewhere less lively than Soho, but they were resolute in their refusals.
‘We had another look at the map and we want to walk over the bridge and along the South Bank to see the London Eye,’ said Harry, waving the A to Z.
Rory was a little less cavalier about jettisoning Clancy. ‘Thanks loads for dinner and the beer,’ he said, pulling on Harry’s arm to prevent him from dashing out into the evening with a brief goodbye. ‘You’ve been amazin’, bringing us to London and setting us up at Will’s apartment.’
With only a small sinking feeling of sadness at hearing the place that had been her home for three years and she still half-owned referred to as ‘Will’s apartment’, Clancy gave them each a hug, hanging on to them just long enough to get them to agree to meet her tomorrow evening too.
Then she returned to the tube and onward to her hotel, feeling zero inclination to call up any old friends to say she was in town. Maybe she’d disconnected too thoroughly while she’d been living in a tiny Norfolk village on a headland projecting out to sea.
By ten-thirty she’d hung up the work clothes that now felt less familiar than the jeans and T-shirt she wore to change beds at Roundhouse Row. A good book kept her mind from whirring on the subjects of business and relationships, past, present and possible until, finally, she fell asleep.
Wednesday brought another trip to IsVid to regroup over the tricky task of balancing what Clancy’s share of the business was worth with what IsVid could realistically afford. Tensions mounted. Monty got angry – though with whom wasn’t clear – and Will was upset and monosyllabic. Asila and Tracey emerged as the negotiators most likely to steer them all to a solution everybody could live with, especially when Monty lost his head sufficiently to explode at Clancy that she was ruining everything.
In return, Clancy lost touch with her professionalism for long enough to flash back: ‘What a fucking injustice! Will destroys our relationship in a particularly painful way, you guys respond by asking me to leave, and I’m supposed to give you my share of the business I slaved over?’
Monty sat back, face tight. ‘Don’t worry. We’ve all shared our views with Will about his behaviour and the situation it’s landed us in.’
‘But not asked him to leave?’ Clancy snapped. ‘Because I committed the sin of letting my emotions show?’ A red-faced Will sent Clancy a hurt look but she didn’t care. Anger sloshed inside her like acid. ‘If you can’t find the necessary dosh, would you like me to return to work at IsVid? Is that it? Who, here, can honestly say that’s a tenable solution?’ She glared around the table.
Silence.
Tracey, looking pale and unhappy, touched Clancy’s shoulder. ‘We’re all under stress but we can do this. Can’t we?’ She raised her eyebrows reprovingly at Monty, who mumbled, ‘Let’s get on with it, then,’ as if it hadn’t been him who’d ignited the flash of fury.
In the afternoon, the company accountants arrived and, eventually, in an atmosphere of exhaustion, a figure was reached that Clancy would accept for her shares in IsVid.
Hands were shaken.
Though formalities were yet to come, Clancy had no reason to stay on the IsVid premises. Dazed, she stepped outside onto the busy pavement. London was sweltering, the buildings seeming to huddle together to trap hot, polluted air around them. She looked wistfully at young women chattering by, bare brown arms swinging as they hurried towards whatever the evening held in store.
It had been a stressful day and the thought of making her way from Islington into central London in a crowded and overheated tube train made her feel oppressed. She was relieved to ring Rory’s phone and discover the teenagers were at Will’s place. Well, hers and Will’s place really. But not really.
She gave them directions to meet her at a brasserie in Chalk Farm Road, uncaring that it had once been a favourite place for her and Will. She was halfway down a big glass of white wine, shoes kicked off beneath the table by the time the lads arrived. She hurriedly pressed send on the email she’d been composing to Aaron. Don’t want your family to worry, so emailing to say I’m still in touch with Harry and Rory.
It was good to think of the cooling breezes of Nelson’s Bar. And to think of Aaron too.
Harry and Rory had lost yesterday’s ebullience. ‘Nobody’s interested in seeing us about any of the jobs we’ve applied for,’ Harry said morosely, pulling out a chair to slump on. He made air quotes with his fingers. ‘“The ideal candidate will have experience of the working sector.” How do you get experience if you can’t get a job?’
Clancy made a sympathetic face. ‘That’s always been tricky.’ She wished she could be more help because the lads were so likeable, yet so unworldly. She’d hate them to make a decision they’d later regret. Their obvious love for each other gave her a warm feeling around her own heart.
Rory leaned an elbow on the table. ‘Getting a job with somewhere to live attached isn’t going to happen. Harry, it’s me holding you back. I think you should go to uni in Leicester like your dad wants.’
‘I suppose,’ Clancy said slowly, ‘that lots of people do manage long-distance relationships—’
‘No!’ Harry almost shouted the word, eyes glittering. ‘We’re together. End of. Maybe we can find somewhere to live first? Then getting a job might be easier.’
So Clancy, who didn’t really want to see their young love tested or them pining for each other, got out her phone and Harry stabbed and swiped while Rory watched dolefully, looking close to tears. The stumbling blocks to securing accommodation quickly proved to be not only references but a deposit too. Hostels began at what seemed a reasonable £10 a night, though the lads had only £80 of their original £100 plus now, which meant four nights. Hotels and apartments might as well have been on the moon, they were so far out of reach.
Harry slapped the table in frustration. ‘It can’t be impossible to move to London! How did you do it, Clancy?’
Clancy felt apologetic that it had been comparatively easy. ‘I had money. My parents supported me through uni and I had holiday jobs. After uni, I interned until I got a job. Later, I helped start up a business. I wish I had a magic solution for you but the truth is that London’s a hard and expensive place.’
‘My parents won’t give me money,’ Harry snapped.
Clancy searched for the right approach. ‘They’re prepared to support you through university. That’s not cheap.’
‘Just … don’t.’ Harry’s voice quivered.
After that, the meal was a quiet one. Harry’s mood was suspiciously like a sulk and Rory kept blinking back tears.
Nobody wanted dessert and Clancy was just wondering what to do or say next when Aaron’s name flashed up on her phone. She answered slightly breathlessly.
His voice was warm and deep. ‘How’s the trip going?’
‘Progressing on the IsVid front,’ she reported. ‘Tricky, but no bloodshed.’
‘That’s good. It’s hot as hell building rockeries. We’ve had an electrical storm but it hasn’t broken the heatwave.’
Harry broke in impatiently. ‘Is that Aaron? Can I talk to him, please? I’ll put him on speaker so you can hear, Rory,’ he added, blithely disregarding phone etiquette in a restaurant. As he groaned to his cousin about their lack of progress in finding a job and/or somewhere to live, Clancy paid quickly, then ushered Harry and Rory outside and to a side street without Harry pausing in pouring out his woes.
‘Would you tell Dad about me and Rory, if I asked you to?’ he demanded, waving at Rory to be quiet when he tried to break in.
‘I would,’ Aaron agreed, his voice hollow through the phone speaker. ‘But I’m not sure it would achieve anything because you’d have to face him sometime.’
Harry’s shoulders sagged. ‘Right.’ He exchanged a look with Rory, then said abruptly, ‘Thanks, Aaron. Don’t say anything to Dad. I need to think more.’ He ended the call and returned the phone to Clancy.
After offering subdued thanks for the meal, the boys went off to explore London further and Clancy returned to her hotel in Muswell Hill. Tracey had extended a hesitant invitation to drop in on her and her live-in, Roisin, this evening, but Clancy had pleaded a previous engagement, thinking wistfully of the past, the laughter they’d shared over meals Asila had cooked or in King’s Cross brasseries, sharing tapas. Maybe they could rediscover some form of friendship when the dust settled on business matters – but not yet. The tension over the negotiating table was too present.
What she almost did about five times was ring Aaron back. Harry had commandeered the last phone call and her nerves were dancing with the need to know whether Aaron had only rung to speak to his young cousin. Or to speak to her.
Late on Thursday afternoon, a formal offer to buy Clancy Moss’s shares in the business was presented by the remaining directors of IsVid.
Clancy formally accepted, ousting herself from a company she’d helped grow from its inception. Everyone looked relieved and Clancy managed a fairly natural smile. ‘I’m sure IsVid will go from strength to strength.’
Asila and Tracey hugged Clancy and even Monty patted her shoulder.
Will hung back. ‘Emotional,’ he said unhappily. Sweat beaded his brow and made the front of his hair frizz.
Impulsively, Clancy gave him a hug too. ‘Don’t be. You’ve got a new life and so have I. I want you to be happy.’
Will gave her a rueful smile. ‘I want that for you too.’
‘Definitely,’ she said firmly, releasing him. ‘This week has helped me realise how much I’ve moved on.’ To a tiny village on the cliffs above the sea where nothing much happened but where she seemed to have left a piece of her heart, judging by the way she kept thinking about the Roundhouse and Dilys and Ernie.
And Aaron.
‘Thanks for not being difficult about Harry and Rory in the spare room,’ she carried on, picking up her bag. ‘They want this evening in London but I hope they’ll come back with me tomorrow.’
Will’s fair brows flew up. ‘What do you mean, “hope”?’
‘Did I say “hope”?’ she said innocently, preferring not to think too much about what would happen if the lads refused to return with her or, indeed, had already melted into the streets of London, never to return to Nelson’s Bar. ‘We have plans to meet at my hotel in the morning.’ Mentally, she crossed her fingers.
Another round of goodbyes and she left IsVid forever. She was happy to eat alone that evening because there was nobody whose company she really desired. Nobody in London, anyway.
Chapter Sixteen
On Friday morning, Clancy stowed her luggage in her car and settled down in the hotel coffee shop to meet Harry and Rory. As she had a few minutes to spare, she ordered a tall latte and hooked her laptop up to the Wi-Fi. Overnight an email had arrived from her parents.
It began without preamble. We’ve been asked to stay another six months to a year to work on other infrastructure projects but don’t know what to do. As we’d had everything set up for a September flight back for your wedding we left that in place, worried about you being alone to sort out the mess that little shit dropped you into. How’s that going? We can come home if you’d like it. Let us know ASAP.
Or why don’t you come out here for a while? It’s such a worthwhile project. We can’t picture you in Nelson’s Bar for long! What on earth do you do all day?
Mum and Dad
xxxx
Though her father’s name appeared at the foot of the email, Clancy detected only the maternal voice. She could picture her mother typing furiously in the office in Namibia Clancy had only seen in photos.
As Harry and Rory hadn’t appeared, she sent the reply she was pretty sure they were hoping for.
There’s no need to return. Now the shock’s worn off I realise marrying Will would have been a mistake. She gave them the gist of the financial unknotting she’d been busy with this week. I love Nelson’s Bar, she went on, as she sipped her latte before it cooled, and if that changes I’ll move on. She definitely didn’t feel that way yet though.
She moved on to another email and it was only when she finished working through her inbox that she glanced at the clock on her computer and realised with an unpleasant jolt that it was eleven-thirty and Harry and Rory were now an hour late. Her stomach sank as she reached for her phone to call Rory.
It went to voicemail.
Should she ring Will? She hesitated. Will would, presumably, be at work, and she found she wasn’t super-keen to warn him that the lads she’d ‘hoped’ would be in his spare room only until this morning might have unofficially extended their visit.
Just as she was concluding unhappily that she’d have to contact Aaron to report losing his cousin and ask for advice, relief flooded through her as she caught sight of Harry and Rory ambling across the hotel foyer. Each wore rumpled clothes, dazed expressions and, Clancy was able to verify when they dropped into the seats across from hers, a strong aroma of stale alcohol. They did, however, have their backpacks.
‘Sorry,’ Harry said, offering Clancy a goofy smile. ‘We’re pissed.’
‘Oh.’ Clancy studied their red eyes and loose movements. ‘That’s quite a feat in London when you have no money.’
Harry and Rory burst out laughing, leaning against one another in their mirth. ‘It’s all gone,’ Harry crowed.
‘Fantastic,’ she muttered, and bought them hot buttered toast to try and soak some of the alcohol up, and hot chocolate, as each declared a hatred of coffee, while she sipped another latte.
‘So, guys, I’m heading back to Nelson’s Bar now,’ she said, eventually, in between the boys bursting into loud guffaws at every excuse. ‘How about you?’ Beneath the table, she crossed her fingers. ‘Will said you could only stay till Friday, so …?’
Harry’s smile faded. ‘Yeah. Suppose we’d better go back. But we’re not sticking in Nelson’s Bar for long.’ He jutted out his jaw.
‘OK.’ Not her immediate problem. Clancy glanced at the menu for prices and dropped enough money on the table to cover the bill. ‘We’re a bit late, so can we get going?’
The boys clambered unsteadily to their feet and followed her out to where her bright blue BMW shone in the morning sun.
‘OK,’ she said calmly, when she’d set her satnav for the Roundhouse. Nelson’s Bar might not be blessed with a mobile signal or broadband but it had postcodes like anywhere else. ‘Do you want to tell me your p
lans? Only if you want to, of course.’
From the back seat, Harry gave a noisy yawn. ‘Will let us use his tablet and we looked up the gay community in London online. We got this link about the Bavage Trust, which is for gay young people, and we talked to one of their youth workers, Darren. He was cool. We met him in a café. He gave us booklets.’
Rory took advantage of another of Harry’s yawns to get a word in. ‘He made us feel like we’re not alone. He said he could even sort us out with emergency accommodation in London if we were absolutely dead set on staying. But he thought it would be better to go home to think about our next move. He said some gay teenagers have to leave home when their parents find out but because we’re not in that situation—’
‘Yet!’ Harry chimed in.
‘—we didn’t have to rush into anything.’
‘So we went to this gay bar, one Darren said would be OK,’ Harry put in wonderingly. ‘It was awesome.’
‘Oh?’ Clancy had to keep some of her attention on the road because of the stop-start London traffic and proliferation of roundabouts, but she could see the lads in the back seat via the rear-view mirror. Harry’s head was on Rory’s shoulder and his eyes were closing. ‘What made it awesome?’
Harry yawned again. ‘Because we could hold hands. We could be together, like we want. We got talking to these kids who were exactly like us last year – one going to uni and the other not. The one going to uni got settled in halls then just moved his boyfriend in too. Nobody checks. So that’s what we’re gonna do. I don’t know what we were obsessing about. I’ll go, Rory will follow, and he’ll get a job in Leicester. Darren’s given us the contact details of the Leicester branch of the John Bavage Trust. We’re sorted.’
Clancy beamed with pleasure for them as she tried to edge onto a roundabout, looking forward to the end of the A406 so she could take the M11 north. ‘Wow. That’s amazing. I’m thrilled you had such a positive experience.’ But she felt a twinge of guilt too. ‘I should have thought of youth workers. I’m afraid I’ve been caught up in sorting myself out. Well done you.’
A Summer to Remember Page 16