“Oh, it’s beautiful,” I said, making my way back into the bedroom. Pam stood by the door, a wide smile on her face.
“Thank you. You know out of all the rooms, I think this one is my favourite.”
“I can see why.”
“Bless you. Now, a couple of quick things, Stan is not allowed in the rooms, no matter how much he begs, there’s information with the Wi-Fi code on the table with the cakes, and breakfast is served in the main house between eight and ten. Do either of you have any allergies or are you veggie or vegan?” We both shook out heads. “Well, in that case, I’ll leave you to it. I think everyone else went across to the venue, but I’m sure they’ll be back soon. Let me know if you need anything.”
We thanked her, and Harry closed the door, leaving the two of us alone. Now that it was just us, my brain suddenly flagged up an issue that I foolishly hadn’t considered before.
“It’s a lovely room,” Harry said. “And isn’t she nice? It was sweet of her to leave us some cake. Oooh, there’s brownies here! Do you want one? I’m going to have one before I go and get the suitcases out of the car.”
“There’s only one bed,” I said, stupidly, staring at the giant, cushion covered mattress in front of me.
I turned, watching Harry’s face fall, half a brownie in his hand. “Shit. I’m sorry. Is that going to be a problem?”
“No. It’s fine. I mean, we’ve shared before, and there’s not exactly a sofa for one of us to sleep on.”
“I could get another room?”
“Don’t be stupid. We’re meant to be dating. It would look really fucking suspicious if we weren’t sharing.”
“I could say we had a fight.”
“It’s fine, honestly. I guess I just hadn’t thought about it until now.” I smiled to myself and shook my head. “Do you still turn into a thermonuclear reactor at night?”
“Um, maybe?”
“In that case, I’m taking that side,” I said, gesturing at the furthest side of the bed, which was closer to the wide window set into the back wall. “Then I might not die of heat stroke.”
“You can have whatever side you want.” Harry shoved the last of the brownie in his mouth, suddenly looking like a giant, blond hamster. I snorted.
“Come on. We’d better get the suitcases before your family arrives.”
We’d actually managed to get all the stuff into our room, and were sitting outside, chilling in some padded chairs in a little courtyard when everyone arrived. A large silver four by four, which had never seen mud in its life, pulled into the drive. From it spilled four people, two I didn’t know and two I wished I didn’t.
“Harry!” A tall woman with long blonde hair and large sunglasses was walking towards us. She reminded me of all the women who downed buckets of chardonnay at the pub, complained imperiously about whatever took their fancy, and spent their husbands’ money like they were bloody Marie Antoinette. If they had a leader though, it would be this woman: Angela Spencer. I forced a smile onto my face. It probably looked more like a grimace. Why the ever-loving fuck had I agreed to this again?
“Hi, Mum,” Harry said, stepping in front of me like my knight in shining armour. “It’s good to see you again. You remember, Jack?”
“Yes.” Angela gave me a look I could read even through her oversized sunglasses. It was the sort of look you gave a bit of dog shit on the bottom of your shoe.
“It’s nice to see you again Mrs. Spencer,” I said, attempting to force some politeness through my gritted teeth. “You must be so excited for tomorrow.”
“Well, it would have been better if you’d managed to arrive earlier to help set up. I’m sure the staff could have done with an extra pair of hands, and I presume you’re quite good at things like that.”
Harry’s face was a picture of stunned silence, as if he’d temporarily forgotten what sort of person he had for a mother. I, on the other hand, had been expecting it.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, keeping my voice simperingly sweet. “I was too busy making sure the flying monkeys had pressed their uniforms for tomorrow. They can’t do a proper fly past for the Wicked Witch while looking scruffy. They’d throw off the whole aesthetic.”
“Excuse me?” Angela rounded on Harry. “Harold,” she hissed, preparing to undoubtedly list my flaws, when we were interrupted by the other woman from the car.
“Hello. I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” She had dark hair that she’d pulled into a ponytail and a roguish smile. “I’m Bea, Eric’s cousin.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” said Harry. “I’m Harry, Francesca’s brother, and this is my boyfriend, Jack.” The smile on his face was almost one of relief, but the look on Angela’s face said they weren’t finished talking. She turned and stalked away.
“Oh thank God,” Bea said, letting out an audible sigh. “Did your mother put up a fight about you bringing your boyfriend? Mine says she has no problem with me having a girlfriend, but would I please refrain from bringing her up around the family. It’s almost like she expects us to start having sex in the middle of dinner. Maybe we should. It would make the whole thing more entertaining.”
I snorted. “No, his mother would just rather he didn’t date a peasant, such as myself, who stoops to such lowly employment as running a pub. She’d much rather Harry had some nice trophy husband who didn’t have the audacity to be born in an NHS hospital.”
“I think,” Bea said, linking her arm with mine, “we’re going to get on famously. Which room is yours? I’ve already got a couple of bottles of wine in mine. Do you think it’s too early to start drinking? I’ve only spent the afternoon with my family, but now I’m thinking two bottles might not be enough.”
I threw my head back and laughed, steering Bea towards my room. We left Harry on the gravel, and for a moment, I didn’t regret coming with him.
Chapter Two
Harry
As I watched Jack and Bea walk arm in arm towards the yellow door of our room, I couldn’t help but feel two distinct emotions. Neither of which I liked.
The first was relief that I’d managed to get through seeing my mother unscathed.
And the second was the realisation of something I’d known all along but that I’d continued to deny for reasons I didn’t want to examine: I was a coward.
I’d know Jack for three years, and I’d been in love with him for exactly two years and eleven months of that time. But I still refused to do a fucking thing about it because I was terrified of what my family would say. I’d known my parents weren’t that impressed when I’d come out, despite what they’d said, but I’d never thought they’d be as bad as they were. Or maybe it wasn’t even that it was the fact I liked men at all; it was the fact that I didn’t like the right men.
I’d always been attracted to people who brimmed over with life and pulled me along with them, bubbling over with joy and sparkling with wit and sharpness. The sort of people to whom life was an adventure to be savoured, and who found beauty in the small moments other people let pass them by. The problem was those weren’t the sort of people who usually spent their days in investment banks or corporate law offices, working until midnight and getting up at five to hit the gym.
I’d thought that by going to New York I’d be able to run away from my feelings, like I’d always done. But my feelings had gotten on the plane with me, and all I could do was spent my time moping around the city, on my own, wondering what Jack was doing.
My friends had tried to take me clubbing and had introduced me to cute boys with playful smiles who’d have been happy to take my loneliness away for a while. And my mother had tried to introduce me to a line of men she considered suitable, usually the sons of family friends. They were usually all the same—frightfully boring or the sort of man I knew couldn’t be faithful for more than five minutes. I wasn’t against open relationships; they just weren’t for me. I needed someone I could spend my life with, who I could share my dreams
and my secrets with, and who wouldn’t be afraid to nudge me out of the box I’d put myself in.
None of them were who I wanted.
Because none of them were Jack.
I sighed, shaking my head and trying to get a handle on my feelings. I knew I still loved Jack, but I doubted he felt the same way about me. How could he after the way I’d treated him? I’d just left, like the coward I was, telling him he meant nothing when my whole body had screamed at me that it wasn’t true. I was surprised he hadn’t told me to fuck off as soon as I’d walked into the pub a couple of weeks ago.
Perhaps now was the time to finally grow a spine and tell him how much he meant to me.
I turned to follow Jack and Bea into our room, when, unsurprisingly, I heard my mother summoning me from the other end of the stable block.
I knew I’d spent too much time standing out in the open. I should have run for cover as soon as I could.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, as I stepped into her room, a fake smile on my face. My dad was sitting in a nearby armchair, reading a copy of the Financial Times, while my mum glared at me.
“Of course it’s not okay. How on earth could you bring that dreadful man to your sister’s wedding?” she asked, as soon as the door closed behind me. My mother wasn’t one to do these things in public. I opened my mouth but couldn’t get any words out before she continued. “Why must you insist on dating such terrible men, darling? I mean he works in a pub, Harry. A pub!” The tone of her voice implied she equated Jack’s job to dealing drugs. “I mean, how will I explain it to the family? And to Eric’s family. How could you embarrass your sister like this? And on the most important day of her life. We thought you were joking at first. I didn’t think you were serious about this relationship. How could you do this to us?”
I looked at her, stunned for a moment by the sheer amount of poison pouring from her mouth. I’d always known she hadn’t approved of Jack—it was why I’d never taken things further—but to know this was how she really felt cut deeper than anything she’d ever said to me before. I knew my parents always put their reputation above everything else, but the fact that even my fake happiness meant so little to them, knocked me sideways. I knew she’d spend the rest of the weekend making my life hell for “disgracing” her and not toeing the family line.
And I knew I had two options.
I’d suddenly had a very, very real glimpse into how my family would treat Jack if I decided to tell him how I felt. So I could either bow down, like I always had, promise to make things right, and go back to being miserable as I tried to find a husband they approved of, or I could tell them to go fuck themselves.
I chose option B.
“I’m sorry to have disappointed you,” I said, watching a relieved, smug smile crawl across her face. “But I have absolutely no intention of breaking up with Jack.”
My mother’s expression dropped as if I’d smacked her in the face with a wet fish.
“You may not care for Jack, but I do. I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone else in my life. And I don’t care if you approve of him or not because now I know this was never about my happiness. It was about your reputation, and I’ve realised I don’t give a fuck what you think of me.”
From his position in the armchair, my father lowered his paper, staring at me as if I’d suddenly grown two heads. Meanwhile, my mum seemed to have suddenly lost the ability to speak. If I’d known all it would take was standing up for myself, I’d have done it years ago. It was an intensely liberating feeling.
“I am a twenty-six-year-old man. I don’t need your approval anymore. As a matter of fact, I don’t need anything from you. Not your money, not your support, not your reputation. All my life I’ve done my best to live up to the expectations you had of me, but I know now that I’ll never be good enough for you. Nothing I do will ever meet your expectations. And I’m not giving up the one man who’s made me a better person because you refuse to be associated with anyone who isn’t like you.”
“W-what are you saying?” she asked, turning to gesture wildly at my father. “Do something, Charles!”
“Come along now,” he said. “Be reasonable. After everything we’ve done for you, this is how you repay us? Apologise to your mother, and we’ll say no more about it.”
“No.” They froze. “I won’t apologise for being myself. I won’t apologise for anything. I know this means you probably won’t ever want to see me again, and I’m okay with that. Jack and I will still come to the wedding, if you want, to keep up appearances. But after that, I think it would be best if we didn’t speak for a while. I love Jack, and if you can’t accept him, then you obviously can’t accept me.” I turned, reaching for the door. My heart was racing, a maelstrom of emotions flooding my body, but at the same time I felt more at peace than ever before. “I think that’s the only thing I’m sorry for. That in the end, you’d rather not have a relationship with me because you can’t see past the ends of your noses.”
The door clicked behind me. I exhaled deeply, my own words echoing in my ears.
Now all I had to do was make half of them a reality.
I needed to tell Jack how I felt, and I needed him to know I’d never choose anything else above him again.
When I opened our room door, I found Jack and Bea sitting on our bed, each holding a glass of wine, a tube of Pringles open between them.
“Everything okay?” Jack asked, concern running across his face.
“I think I just broke up with my family.” My words came out slightly hoarser than I’d intended, and the adrenaline crash I’d been waiting for suddenly loomed large. “I told them it would be best if we didn’t speak for a while. But if I’m honest, I’m not sure I ever want to speak to them again.”
“Oh shit! What happened?” Jack launched himself off the bed and reached for my arm. “You need to sit down. You’ve gone really fucking pale.” He pulled me across the room and pushed me onto the bed into the space Bea had quickly cleared.
“I’m fine. Honestly,” I said, even though I could tell I sounded the furthest thing from it.
“You’re not,” Bea said quietly. “But you will be. I should let you two have a minute.”
“No, please stay,” I said. “I get the feeling you know exactly what just happened.”
“Maybe.” She gave a wry smile. “Was it the fact that your gay or that your boyfriend didn’t attend Eton?”
“The second. Apparently, my mother thinks I’m ruining my sister’s wedding and bringing shame on the family by bringing Jack.” I looked at him. He was smiling, but there was hurt behind his honey-coloured eyes. “I’m so sorry. I should have never brought you here and put you through this. I should have realised a long time ago how shitty my family is, or at least, I should have grown a spine.”
“It’s fine,” he said, waving his hand. “Seriously. I’ve always known they’re dicks, I’m just sorry you have to be related to them.” I knew he was trying to dismiss the issue because Bea was here, but I wasn’t going to let this be the end of it. We were definitely going to talk about this later. But first, I needed a drink.
“Is there any of that wine left?”
Jack, Bea, and I spent the rest of the afternoon hiding in our room, avoiding my parents and drinking the wine Bea had secretly supplied. Two bottles didn’t go very far between three people, but it was better than nothing.
I was aware Jack and I were expected for dinner, but I was hoping the events that had transpired earlier would get us out of that particular torture. When neither of us were summoned and my parent’s car drove off, I sighed with relief.
I knew I’d said I’d go to the wedding, mostly to keep the peace, but my plan from here on out was one of simple avoidance. It would make everything so much easier. I idly wondered what excuse my mother would give for my absence. My money was on something simple like being stuck at work. That would make me look like a good, diligent son.
Eventuall
y, we got hungry, and after a quick recommendation from Pam, we drove into the nearest village where there was a small pizza and kebab takeaway. It was run by a small Greek man named Ozzie who had the most wonderful accent combination of broad west country mixed with Greek. He was utterly charming, seemed to know absolutely everyone who came in, and packed us off with two enormous pizzas, some garlic bread, a couple of cans of diet coke and the promise that we’d come see him again next time we were in the area.
We drove back to the B&B and ate the pizza sitting outside, spread across a couple of the padded patio chairs in the last of the evening sunlight, watching the sun set over the hills. Bea’s girlfriend, Anna, arrived not long after we returned with the pizza, and it was fun getting to know the pair of them. It was a little ray of sunshine in a weekend full of rain. I got the feeling when this was all over, we’d be keeping in touch. They were obviously deeply in love with each other, and it was both heart-achingly sweet and sad to hear that Bea’s parents hadn’t approved of her “choices”, especially because Anna was amazing. She was a paediatric nurse and full of love and joy, with a devilishly funny streak that had us all howling with laughter. She reminded me of Jack.
He’d sat next to me the whole evening, our chairs pulled close together. At one point, he’d rested his arm on the arm of my chair, and I’d reached out to interlace our fingers without even thinking about it. His skin had been warm against mine, and I felt a couple of tiny callouses on the palm of his hand.
Jack had frozen for a second, as if he wasn’t sure what to do. I wondered if I’d overstepped, but then he relaxed his grip and began stroking his thumb across the back of my hand. All I could think about was how much I wanted to tell him I loved him, how much I regretted the things I’d done, and how sorry I was. I knew I’d already apologised when we’d gone to dinner on that first night, but I needed him to know I meant it.
By the time we retired to the room, I was so on edge I could hardly think straight. Jack was quiet, but I wasn’t sure if that was because he was tired, because there was something on his mind, or because he was regretting everything. I tried to open my mouth to ask him, but nothing would come out.
One More Night Page 3
