by Clare London
“Dylan, who is it?” came Bess’s throaty voice. Like she didn’t already know, because she’d been peering out of the doorway of the living room as if her eyes were on stalks.
“Is that Miss Bess?” Neal called through to her, tilting his head to see past my shoulder. “What a pleasure to find you here as well, keeping an eye on things.”
I frowned at him, but he deliberately didn’t catch my eye. I heard Bess shuffling to the side, and I could imagine Mitzi wriggling into the doorway beside her, also peeking into the hallway.
“And Miss Mitzi too,” Neal said, his voice gentling. “How come you look younger every time we meet?”
Mitzi’s giggle was a delight to hear, but I was still confused about why he was here, what he wanted.
“Invite the Whitman boy in, now, Dylan.” Bess’s voice was a startling mixture of girlish excitement and reprobation for my lapsed manners.
I sighed and took a step back. Neal nodded at me and moved into the hallway, closing the door behind him.
Chapter 5
AS WE both turned to follow the aunts, Neal pressed briefly against me. A shiver ran through me like an electric shock. My gaze locked on his face, meeting his in return. We stumbled the last few steps to the door of the living room, where I saw Bess watching us with what looked like a half smile on her face.
“Here, let me help.” Neal gallantly guided Mitzi back to her chair. Then he turned to Bess, who was darting glances between us.
“I’ll manage myself, thank you,” she said, but there was none of the irritated pride in her voice I usually suffered. Guess his charisma worked even better on a live audience than one on printed paper. I should know, of course. She wriggled herself back down in her armchair, next to the table that held the tea and cakes.
I searched around for a spare chair for Neal, but he walked straight over and plumped down on the couch. It was where I’d been sitting. After a moment’s pause, I went over and sat beside him.
The room was unnaturally quiet.
Bess cleared her throat. “Gentlemen.”
“How long do you think they’ll be staring at each other like that?” Mitzi sounded genuinely intrigued. “Who’s going to pour the tea?”
“Hush, woman. I’ll do it,” Bess said.
“Try some cake, Mr Whitman.” Mitzi waved a plate in Neal’s general direction. “No? Well, we have to say it’s not one of Dylan’s best attempts.”
Neal raised an eyebrow.
“Not enough lemon peel, he told us,” Bess explained helpfully.
I just wanted to close my eyes and pretend this wasn’t happening.
Neal nodded back to Bess. He sounded perfectly calm and conversational. “It happens. You can use other citrus peel in the recipe, of course. In fact, a mixture adds something to the final cake, something out of the ordinary. Mischief and a hint of mystery. To the taste buds, that is.” His gaze flickered back to me.
I stared at him, and all I could think of to say was, “Why are you here?”
“Manners, boy,” Mitzi murmured.
“Do you know, I think I’ve had enough of manners today,” I said. My voice sounded rather high and clipped. “I’ll thank you to let me carry on a conversation in my own house with my own guest.”
Mitzi raised her pencilled eyebrows, and Bess sighed. Some darker expression flickered in her pupils.
Neal looked over at the aunts, then back to me. He sighed, as if accepting the fact he had an entrenched audience. “Dylan, I needed to see you, and right away. To… tell you.”
“Tell me what?” I knew I sounded rude, but the disorientation continued. That, and the heady excitement of his thigh just a few inches from mine. I could see the gentle pulse at his throat, feel the warmth of his body. When he moistened his lips to speak again, I had to bite my lip to keep in the gasp of desire.
I realised that last week, when he’d gone back to London, I hadn’t been sure he’d return.
Oh my God.
Neal cleared his throat. “Dylan, give me a break. For a man who uses words as his occupation, I’m sorely tried today.”
“Last time I saw you, you were going back for your briefing meeting. Your career’s taking off. You’re planning the Far East travel.” It all sounded accusatory, though I never meant it that way. I would come to terms with it, I was sure. Even if it took the rest of my life.
“Yes, I know. I did. It is. And I’m not.” He winced. “I’m not going away this time. Well, not much at all. Not anymore.”
What? “Have you lost your job? Oh, God, Neal—”
He grasped my hand and I let him, I was so startled. “Dammit, you’re still worrying about me! No, I haven’t lost my job. I’ve still got it, and it’s still great. Will you just shut up and listen?” When I nodded dumbly, he continued, though he didn’t let go of my hand. “I talked it through with them, and they offered me a production role instead.”
I shook my head. I didn’t understand what he was saying.
“I won’t be presenting the show. So I won’t be travelling for all those months. Hardly at all, actually. I’ll be back here more often than not.” I started to reply, but he talked on over me. “And that’s how it’s going to be from now on.”
“But that’s not what you do. What you love.”
His smile was thin but genuine. “Ah, but that’s where I’ve been keeping secrets too, I’m afraid. Production is just one of the things I’ve always wanted to do, Dylan. I just never thought I’d get the chance. I love working on the material almost as much as creating it—developing copy, writing the script, running a team of film-makers. This is a big step, but they seem to think I’m up to it.” His eyes shone.
I still couldn’t parse it all. “No. That’s not what you want—”
He gripped my hand more tightly. “I’m getting what I want. I was never really looking for a career where it was more about me. It wasn’t until I was in that bloody meeting, talking about wardrobe, and make-up, and presentation skills, that I realised things were getting out of hand. It’s taken a bit of negotiation, but now I have a challenge I’m going to thrive on. And a chance to settle in one place, to make a home.”
I ignored the rustle I heard from the armchairs. I’d never known the aunts be so silent. “You said….” I swallowed and started again. “You called this a fishbowl place. You’re used to a busy city. So I can’t understand it, why look for a home here?”
In the background, I heard Bess click her tongue at me.
Neal mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “arsehole,” but I couldn’t be sure, and besides, his tone was fond. “You misquote me, and you damn well know it. I said you were my home. And so that’s really what you’re asking, isn’t it? Why me?”
I think I heard Mitzi sigh.
“Dylan, you won’t let me tell you, but I’m going to. While I have you captive here.” He glanced over at the aunts, then back to me. Provocation sparkled in his eyes. “You know I want you, how you excite me.”
“Neal!”
“Hush, boy,” Mitzi whispered. When I glanced their way, both aunts’ gazes were fixed with fascination on Neal. I was waiting for their horror and shock, but maybe that was a reflection of my own.
“I want more of you, and if that means moving here permanently, that suits me fine.” His voice shook slightly. “I want more of your wit, your kindness, your perceptiveness. I want that familiarity and comfort and strength you find here.” He was starting to look very flushed. “I want more of the way you make me feel, Dylan.”
“How—?”
“Good,” he interrupted, quite fiercely. “You make me feel… just… good.”
Yes, that was definitely another sigh from Mitzi. I was hot with embarrassment by now, but neither aunt had spoken a word.
“I can’t….” I swallowed. I was still struggling to be properly articulate. “We can talk about this later, right? But this town is way too dull for you.”
He laughed. He never took his eyes from
me, as if knowing he had me trapped. “No, not dull, just different. And that’s good too. I mean, I’ll still have to travel, but not as much. And you can come with me, according to your schedule. Let me share that with you. If you’d like that?”
I looked back into those dark, shining, fearful, excited eyes. “Yes,” I said quietly.
It seemed my heart relaxed for the first time in years.
He grinned. “Good. That world was draining me, you know. I got sucked in, forgot what I was really good at. I needed to stop and take stock, to have a good reason to. I’ve always been surrounded by guys who live in airports, obsessed by their own agenda, constantly looking over my shoulder for the next opportunity.”
“Not a lot of those here,” I murmured, though his words warmed me.
“I don’t need any of them.” I was sure he was leaning closer to me, a move I welcomed and yet—in my living room—I was terrified by. “I just need one opportunity, one guy. Now I can be with you, like I am now, but… properly. When I’m bone-tired and disillusioned with hotels and transport and sharp, disinterested faces, I can come back to you. It’s a gift to me.”
By now, I didn’t know who was gripping whose hand more tightly.
Neal’s face twisted suddenly. “That’s assuming…. God, Dylan. I mean, I never checked with you first.” He looked over at the aunts, though I don’t think he was focusing properly. “I should have brought flowers or… something. Should I?” His gaze came back to me, raw and needy. “Goddammit, say something!”
I smiled. “Don’t worry. You had me at the cake recipe.”
And Bess snickered.
I didn’t give anyone else time to react. I stood up, because I felt more confident that way. Must have been the teacher in me. “I’ve not been honest,” I said. “Not to you, Mitzi and Bess, not to Neal, not to myself.”
“What’s he saying?” Mitzi asked Bess.
“You don’t need to do this, Dylan.”
I stared at them both, my heart racing, my mind set to continue. Bess looked fondly at me. Mitzi was blushing but avidly following everything going on.
“I should have stood up long before now. Not like this, in my living room. But properly, in my world. Instead of hiding.”
“We love you,” Bess said quietly, but I had to ignore her, or falter again.
“I’m never going to marry a cute girl like Josie—or any other woman, for that matter. I’m probably never going to provide you with a tribe of great-great-nieces and -nephews, though I suppose everything is possible nowadays. I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you in any way, or failed your expectations, or if I cause you any shock or embarrassment or disgust.”
Mitzi’s snort sounded a lot like how “arsehole” would have sounded from anyone less refined. Beside me, Neal reached up and took my hand again.
“I’m gay,” I said and waited for the sky to fall. It didn’t, but I feared that was only a temporary hiatus. I continued regardless. “We can discuss it later if you want to know what that means, if you have any questions. But you need to know that I love Neal. I’ve wanted him since the day I saw him, and loved him from mere minutes after. It’s increased in strength every time I see him.” I felt him squeeze my fingers. “More want, more need. I never doubted it—but I’ve doubted myself. I’ve been keeping it secret, making him keep it secret too. I’ve been keeping him away from me.”
Neal cleared his throat. “Well, my job hasn’t helped—”
“No, it’s me.” I looked down and took heart from his encouraging, slightly stunned smile. “I’ve prevented us having anything more rewarding, anything more lasting. Denying you.”
“Bloody hell,” he said. He looked over at the aunts. “You see why I called him my home?”
“And you,” I said, refusing to look away, my voice starting to waver. “And you are my adventure.”
That’s what it was—what I craved and what I feared. The joy, the passion, the desperate need. The touch of his hands, the smell of his skin. His laugh, his quick temper, his impatience, my shocking, sweet desire. The need to discover more, the challenge of days together, the anticipation of sharing my life with him. It was all about coming alive.
The part of life that was for me alone. With him.
The room fell almost silent again. All I could hear was my harsh breathing. My shaky legs wanted me to sit down again, but my stupid pride thought I ought to stay upright.
“Dear heavens,” Bess said, very quietly.
“About time.” Mitzi sniffed. “May I have another cup of tea now?”
Neal smothered a chuckle.
I glared at Mitzi. “You knew? About being gay? About me?”
Bess put a restraining hand on Mitzi’s arm and replied to me herself. “Dylan, I’ll thank you to watch your tone. Don’t you realise how small this town really is? Maybe we don’t talk about these things, in that blunt and largely ugly way you young people talk about everything, but that doesn’t mean we’re—”
“Babes in arms,” Mitzi finished. A lock of her hair had worked loose again, and she flicked it away with an aimless finger. “We love you, boy, but you are far too tense. I said you needed some teaching of your own.” I saw her turn her accusing gaze on Neal. He had the good grace to blush.
I let myself sink back onto the couch while Bess busied herself with a fresh cup for Mitzi. Then she turned her serious gaze on me.
“It will soon be the end of the school year, Dylan. You two should take a trip together. Get away from here and treat yourselves.” Her eyes softened. “You deserve it, darling.”
“Excellent idea,” Neal said, too brightly.
I caught the glint in his eye. “Did you all plan this afternoon somehow?”
Neal shook his head, his surprise genuine. “No way, I only arrived in town this morning. Though it wasn’t my usual bus because they’re diverting traffic along the Petersham Road again. I got dropped off on the other side of the park, and I briefly had to check my bearings with a helpful old gent who was just passing the bus shelter. Funnily enough, it was the same guy who waves at me when he passes the house.”
Mitzi made a small tutting noise, but I ignored her.
“He invited me into the nearby cafe for a cup of tea, which was kind of him. I stayed for ages. When I tried to leave, he came over faint. He wouldn’t let me continue on my way until he’d made a phone call. I think he said it was to his doctor, but I’m not sure.”
“A phone call?” The memory of Bess quickly hiding her mobile phone—with a lurid WWE key chain on it today—came back to me.
“That was fine by me, actually.” Neal flushed. “I’ve been plucking up the courage to come around.”
I frowned at Bess. Their delay in leaving Laurel House today; a secretive call. Making sure I was at home to greet Neal—or that they had front-row seats to see the entertainment?
“If the wind blows, that scowl will stick,” Bess murmured. “It’ll add ten years to your face.”
I frowned at her. “I can’t just take a trip. I can’t leave you and Mitzi just like that.”
“Nonsense,” Bess snapped back with the spirit she’d demanded I should show more of. “Mr Gerald will get us out and about for a few weeks. He’s not family, of course, but he’s perfectly adequate.”
“We chat all the time,” Mitzi murmured. Her eyes were on the remains of the lemon cake. “He always lets us know what’s going on. And such a careful driver too. A very hospitable man. Did I already say that?”
“Did we also tell you his son is the principal at the college, Dylan? His son often tells Mr Gerald what a high regard he has for you. What plans he has for your promotion.”
“Most hospitable.” Mitzi echoed herself.
I was smiling by now, though I wasn’t quite sure why.
Mitzi’s final comment was both coy and wistful. “And flowers from Mr Whitman would have been very good. Maybe next time you call?”
A couple of bars from Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way” tinkled fro
m inside Bess’s handbag. “That’s our cue!” she crowed.
“Mr Gerald is collecting you again?” I leaned down and whispered in her ear as she passed me, “Your partner in crime?”
She snorted in reply, though she had the grace to blush.
Neal helped me escort them both out into the hallway and to my front door. Outside, Mr Gerald was waiting beside a freshly washed and polished saloon car to take them back to Laurel House. He didn’t look at all surprised to see us all together, with Neal at my side. In fact, he waved at Neal with his usual cheeriness.
Bess beamed at Mr G, like something had been concluded to her complete satisfaction, and Mitzi waggled her fingers flirtatiously at him. I wondered, not for the first time, just how devious the aunts could really be.
“You make a fine couple,” Bess said, pausing in my doorway.
Mitzi nodded, her gaze appraising Neal particularly carefully. “Those strong dark looks are apparently very fashionable. They certainly balance that pale face of Dylan’s.”
Bess smiled fondly at me. “Thank you for another lovely afternoon.”
Mitzi sighed, excess perfume wafting across the hallway. “It’s as good here as the afternoon soaps.”
“Better,” Bess said.
Outside, Mr Gerald bowed slightly from the waist, though very discreetly.
Mitzi peered up at me. “Will you be getting a piercing like Kyle Martin, boy?”
“At least he won’t get pregnant like Suzie Newman,” Bess muttered. “Come along now, Mitzi. Our beau awaits.”
“Dylan?” Mitzi lifted her sweet, garishly painted lips up against my ear. “Just one word before we go?” Her whisper was the lightest breath, her kiss a caress of comfort and love.
Then Neal and I watched the aunts amble to the end of the path, hand in hand, where Mr Gerald gallantly held open the door for them both. I waved as the car slowly pulled away from the kerb.
“What did she say?” Neal’s impatience was getting the worse of him. He brushed my cheek with his thumb, presumably wiping away the print of Mitzi’s lipstick. “Dylan? Are you mad at me? Tell me about Mitzi. What did she whisper to you?”