Chapter Seventeen
Laurie
“You know, if Margaret Duffle brings any more of her fruitcake to the church tea mornings, I won’t be able to light a match in the church hall for weeks.
The woman is lovely, but I don’t think anyone ever told her she didn’t need to put a whole bottle of brandy in every cake,” Fred said as she sipped her tea and leant back into the padded chair in my office.
Fred was the local vicar and regularly popped in for a cup of tea and a chat.
“Every one is a fire hazard waiting to happen.”
“I’m surprised nobody’s ever been done for drunk driving after eating it if it’s as bad as you say,” I said, chuckling at the idea of trying to explain to the local police that being over the blood alcohol limit was because of indulging in one too many slices of fruitcake.
“Don’t even say it.” Fred knocked quickly on the desk. “You’ll bloody jinx it.”
I laughed and sipped my tea, shaking my head as I did.
When I’d been younger, I’d never imagined being the sort of person who regularly spent any time with a member of the church, but Fred wasn’t most people’s idea of a religious leader.
She drank, swore, happily debated the existence of God and regularly called them a bastard, and never preached or tried to convert people.
She had also always been a fervent LGBTQ+ ally, holding regular queer celebrations in St. Michael’s church, and last year for the first time she had held a special service on Transgender Day of Remembrance, where she’d used the trans flag as an altar cloth.
And while I wasn’t a religious person and had no intention of becoming one, I appreciated Fred’s sincerity and determination.
She was also an interesting person to spend time with, largely because we shared similar interests in films, television, and books, and I liked having another person to discuss Romantic poetry with. Even if we disagreed about Byron.
“So,” Fred said, giving me a studious look. “Have you declared your undying love for your best friend yet or are you still walking on eggshells around each other?”
I choked and spluttered as my mouthful of tea made a break for my lungs instead of my stomach. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Y-yes,” I said, thumping my chest and hoping my lungs weren’t going to appear in my hands. I was still holding my mug in one hand and some of the tea washed over the side, seeping into my trousers, but I barely noticed. “Theo and I are just friends.”
Fred sipped her tea and raised an eyebrow at me over the rim, fixing me with a look that said she didn’t believe me one bit. “You can be friends and in love. In fact, the best relationships have a solid foundation of friendship underneath them.”
“I know. But Theo and I… we’re just…” I sighed and slid my mug onto the desk, trying to avoid putting it on anything important so I didn’t have to explain to someone why their paperwork had tea stains on it. “It’s complicated.”
“When is it not?”
“I think I know what John Clare meant when he wrote, ‘My heart has left its dwelling-place / And can return no more,’” I said, gazing out of the window, where I could just about see the sea over the tops of the buildings.
“I always used to be able to pretend that there was nothing between us—that we were just two men who happened to be incredibly close—and I’d made peace with that.
But over the summer something has changed, and I know that nothing will ever be the same. ”
It had been a month since my conversation with Spencer when he’d told me to go for it with Theo, and while I’d definitely “gone for it,” I still hadn’t managed to get round to the emotional part of the discussion.
Because every time I ever considered it, my fear of losing Theo reared up like my own personal Hydra, and every time I tried to cut the head off my worries, they grew back three times as strong.
Now I was stuck—in too deep to back out and too afraid to move forward. My emotions were a terrible quicksand, sucking me in and drowning me, and the more I struggled, the more trapped I became.
It made me think of the lightning sand from the Fire Swamp in The Princess Bride, and I was half expecting a rodent of unusual size to leap onto my head at any moment.
“You opened the box,” Fred said gently. “Like Pandora. And now you can’t put your feelings back.”
“Exactly.”
“Did you let them all out? Or did you close it too soon? Remember Pandora left hope in the box.”
“Yes, but Pandora supposedly unleashed all manner of misery and evil upon this world, whereas I’ve just unleashed a large amount of emotion that I was hoping to suppress and deny the existence of.”
“Some people might say they’re the same thing,” Fred said. She was quiet for a moment, then added,
“‘I told my love I told my love
I told her all my heart
Trembling cold in ghastly fears
Ah she doth depart.’”
“Blake,” I said, looking back from the window. “‘Never Seek to Tell Thy Love.’ Published 1863, I believe.”
“Very good, but that wasn’t my point.” She put her empty mug on the desk and picked a chocolate Hobnob out of the old tin I used for biscuits.
“You’re afraid of telling Theo about how you truly feel because you’re worried about losing him.
You think if you open your heart and lay all your love and affection out in front of him, he’ll reject you.
So you’ve decided you’ll pretend nothing’s changed in the hope that won’t happen, when we both know that if you don’t tell him, you’re letting your fear win and eventually Theo will end up leaving anyway because he wants more and you won’t give him that. ”
Her words were firm, but there was a note of understanding too and that was the worst part. “You and I both know nothing in this world lasts forever. One way or another, the people we love will leave us. All we can do is be open with them while we have the chance, and trust in the truth.”
“‘And Man in portions can foresee / His own funereal destiny,’” I said, a sad smile playing on my lips as I reached for my own biscuit.
“Don’t you quote Byron at me,” Fred said. “You know how I feel about that wretched man. And stop avoiding my point—you know I’m right.”
I chuckled quietly. “He was right, though, at least about this.”
“Perhaps, but ‘Prometheus’ is all about strength, rebellion, and the struggle of humanity, and that the struggle is worth the price of death. Telling Theo how you feel might not kill you, but it’s worth any price you might pay.
Besides, nobody can know the future. You can’t predict how things will play out, and telling yourself you know it’ll end badly is just finding an excuse not to do it. ”
“I suppose you’re going to tell me this is all part of God’s plan or something?” I asked, snapping my biscuit in half.
“No. This is just life,” Fred said. “God’s got nothing to do with it.”
“You’re a vicar. I thought you were supposed to be pushing the whole ‘God has a plan’ thing?”
Fred shrugged and reached for another biscuit.
“I can if it’d make you feel better, but the message is the same.
Stop fucking around and tell Theo how you feel before it’s too late.
He’s not going to wait forever, and you don’t want to wake up at eighty and regret all the things you never said.
You only get one life, Laurie, so bloody well live it. ”
I wanted to disagree with her, but I couldn’t.
Fred had made an excellent case. The only thing she hadn’t accounted for was my cowardice.
She was right, though. I needed to talk to Theo before it was too late and things changed in such a way there was no going back and fixing them if they went wrong.
But I didn’t even know how to start the conversation, much less continue it.
Theo had been hurt by so many people in his life who were supposed to have loved him, who’d promised to protect him, and I didn’t want to be one of them.
I was so afraid of getting it wrong, of misstepping and causing pain to the one person I never wanted to hurt, that I refused to allow myself to even start.
Because if I didn’t open my mouth and lay my emotions out before him, I couldn’t get it wrong.
Although soon there would come a point where not speaking would cause more pain than any attempt I might make, and I had to hope I could overcome my cowardice before then.
I had to become Heracles, take up my sword, and slay my foe, burning the stumps of each head of the Hydra so they could not regrow.
A sharp knock on the door saved me from any further lectures from Fred, and I breathed a sigh of relief knowing I’d escaped for another day. Then cursed myself for being such a coward and rejoicing in my rescue.
“Come in,” I said, knowing there were only two people in the world it could be.
The door cracked open and Theo’s beautiful blond head appeared. I assumed Jonathan had told him I was with Fred because Theo tended to avoid family meetings whenever possible, insisting he did not enjoy having strange people emote all over him.
“Hello, Fred!” Theo said, pushing the door open farther and sliding through the gap. “Oooh, you have biscuits.”
“Hello, love,” Fred said as she turned in her chair to smile at our new arrival. “How’s things? You’re looking very pretty today. Is that new?”
Theo did a delighted little twirl, but I noticed it wasn’t so vigorous it exposed his thighs and the rope work underneath. “The skirt is, but the blouse is actually an old one I found in the back of my wardrobe. I’d forgotten all about it.”
“Always nice when that happens,” Fred said. She picked up the biscuit tin and held it out to him. “How’re things going with your brother? Are you still emailing him?”
“I am.” Theo took a biscuit and pulled up another chair, sitting down gracefully and tucking his legs underneath it.
It made me smile when he sat like that because he always said he’d learnt it from watching Julie Andrews giving etiquette lessons in The Princess Diaries.
“Although West gave me his number today so we can start messaging, and we’re going to look at setting up a video chat too. ”
That was the first I’d heard of anything like a video chat and it made my stomach clench, an unconscious growl rumbling in my throat. I tried to cover it with a cough but from the look Theo gave me, I knew he’d heard me.
I didn’t know why the idea of West having Theo’s number or them video chatting bothered me so much, but the whole idea sat uncomfortably in my stomach—like I’d eaten something solid and hadn’t swallowed it properly.
I knew that West probably didn’t have bad intentions.
He was just looking for the sibling he’d lost and maybe only vaguely remembered he’d had.
I doubted he wanted to hurt Theo. He probably hadn’t even realised how much distress Theo had suffered reading his first email.
And if he did want to cause Theo harm, whether that was emotionally, physically, or spiritually… well, it wouldn’t be difficult to get away with murder in my profession.
I’d done some casual snooping on West’s social media, at least what was publicly available, and most of it was rugby, video games, and the occasional post about his friends.
There wasn’t anything about his family or his personal life, although he did seem to be out publicly given there were photos of him at Lincoln Pride from the previous year and several posts promoting a rugby Pride campaign and the Knights Pride Night.
Perhaps my nervousness was because I didn’t want Theo getting attached only to get ditched again, or maybe it was because there were so many new things happening at once it was starting to make my head spin.
Although West’s initial email had been one of the catalysts for the huge leap forward in Theo’s and my relationship, so I wasn’t sure whether I was allowed to think too ill of him.
I realised Fred and Theo had been chatting while I’d been pondering my feelings about West, and when I tuned back into their conversation, I heard Fred trying to explain the basic rules of rugby to Theo.
I mentally wished her the best of luck because Theo’s attention span regarding sports was spectacularly low.
The only thing he enjoyed about them was getting to see men running around in tight clothing, and I couldn’t blame him for that.
“Wait, there’s an actual position called hooker in rugby?” Theo asked incredulously as he picked up another biscuit.
“There is,” Fred said. “They’re one of the team’s forwards and they’re responsible for securing possession of the ball during the scrum.”
Theo made an unimpressed hum. “Sounds fake to me. How come when I stream games looking super cute, people call me all sorts of shitty, derogatory names for being pretty and kicking their butts at killing zombies, but there’s literally sportsmen out here being hookers and nobody bats an eyelid. It’s just another double standard!”
“I agree, but the term here comes from hooking the ball with your foot,” Fred said. “But you make a good point.”
“Thank you,” he said sweetly.
“Do you know what position your brother plays?”
“No. Something forward, I think. I know he scored a try last week if that helps.”
“Not particularly,” Fred said with a laugh. “Next time there’s an England match on, you can come over to the vicarage and I’ll walk you through it. As long as you don’t mind Angus joining us.”
“Angus is always welcome,” Theo said, lighting up at the mention of Fred’s Scottie dog. “I’ll remember to bring him some biscuits.”
“Speaking of Angus, I should get back and let him out.” Fred smiled at me as she stood. “Lovely to see you again, Theo, and you, Lawrence. Remember what I said, and I’m here if you need anything.”
She gave us both a little wave, picked up her bag, and headed to the door.
“What did she mean?” Theo asked as soon as the door closed behind her. “What did she say?”
“Oh… nothing. We were just talking about the Romantics. I’m still trying to convert her on Byron.”
Theo sighed dramatically. “Not Lord Byron! Honestly, Laurie, you need better taste in men. And poets. Ugh, Byron.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Next thing you know you’ll be a fan of… I don’t know… someone equally terrible.”
I laughed. “You know, some people like Byron. And some people would say you two had a lot in common.”
“Well, some people also like cheese and jam sandwiches, Laurie, and those people are wrong.”