Epilogue
Ludo
We awoke, suddenly and unexpectedly, to Sonny & Cher’s “I Got You Babe” at eardrum-shattering volume. I slapped an arm out towards the bedside table to find my phone and knocked over my glass of water, drenching my battered, weathered, and decidedly unread copy of Wolf Hall.
“Oh, bloody hell,” I said. I felt the warmth and weight of Sunny’s body on my back as he leant over me, his naked skin against my naked skin.
I’d adopted Sunny’s night-time attire and had started wearing just pants to bed.
Mostly because I liked to feel his body against mine when we cuddled.
Sunny grabbed my phone and glasses and handed me both. I turned off the alarm.
“I have no idea how Jonty does it,” I said. “My phone is locked.”
“Do you want me to show you how?” Sunny asked.
“You know how to break into someone’s phone? Is this some dirty tabloid skill you’re now taking to a respectable programme like the BBC’s Compass Point?”
“VladPop showed me how to do it. It’s pretty simple.”
“We should get up,” I said, kissing Sunny’s plump blush-pink lips. “Happy anniversary, baby.”
Sunny smiled. “Two months. Where did the time go?”
“Let’s get up. I have a full day planned.”
“You haven’t told me what we’re doing,” Sunny said.
“That’s generally how surprises work.”
I climbed out of bed and looked at the watery mess on the bedside table. I picked up my signed copy of Wolf Hall and dropped it into the wastepaper basket, then opened the summer house curtains. It was a bright, beautiful late summer’s day.
“Perfect weather for the seaside,” I said, dropping a subtle hint.
“Yes! Penny arcade!” Sunny said. “Get in, son.”
***
The sun was beating down from a wide blue sky.
Seagulls circled overhead, squawking and calling.
People milled about: women in flowing summer dresses, men in shorts with their shirts unbuttoned to the waist—including Sunny, who, for a freckled guy, was jolly keen to get his nipples out. I was not complaining.
We walked between the two little rows of stone and weatherboard buildings along the meandering cobblestone road.
The air smelt of salt and mud and fish. It was lunchtime, and the tide in the Thames Estuary was low, so the boats were tilted on their sides on the honey-coloured sand, waiting for the water to come back in and refloat them.
As we rounded a corner, I saw a small wooden building made of shiplap boards, surrounded by picnic tables. It was painted in dark blue and had big white writing that said “Fish Shack.”
“This is the place,” I said.
“Fish and chips at the seaside? Amazing,” Sunny said. “I hope they’ve got cockles.”
“You grab a table. I’ll go order.”
I stepped up to the counter, and Bertha’s arms flew open, accompanied by a shriek.
“Ludo! You came to see us!” She ran around the counter and wrapped me up in a big hug. “Dave! Dave! Look who it is.”
“Ludo! Hello, son. Fancy a pint of cockles?”
Bertha released me, and I reached over to shake Dave’s hand. It was his good hand, which had even more crushing power than his bad hand. Bertha looked over my shoulder, then back at me.
“Is the pretty lad with the freckles ’ere wif you?”
I nodded.
“He’s ever so handsome, in’t he? He should be on TV. Don’t you fink, Dave?”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t you fink that lad over there should be on TV?”
“Born for it, I should have said,” Dave said, darting back behind the counter to pull a basket of chips out of some oil.
“Are you stepping out together, then?” Bertha asked.
“Yes. That’s Sunny. He’s my… boyfriend,” I said, feeling a flush of pride, the smile nearly breaking my face.
“Oh, Harry will be disappointed,” Bertha said. “We told him all about you.”
“If only every gay man had a wingman as wonderful as you, Bertha, we’d all be set.”
“Well, thank you for comin’ to see us, love. You’re a very thoughtful young man. Are you hungry? What can I get you boys?”