The Captain and the Best Man

by Catherine Curzon

  Pris crossed and uncrossed her legs. Then she nodded. “Yes. Yes, I do remember that. And you let me win musical chairs, I seem to remember.”

  “Best friends,” he reminded her. “I let you win the sack race when we were twelve too, but I never let on. You just thought you were better at hopping than me.”

  Pris winced, then, to the surprise of everyone, she smiled. A gentle laugh escaped her perfect scarlet lips. “Yes, I remember winning the sack race—thank you for letting me win, Collingwood!”

  “I was a gentleman even then.” He smiled. “I come from a military family. The sort of family that expresses fatherly affection by handing over a Jag, not by giving your boy a hug. We grew up on airbases with men who were men, and Pris knows what I mean by that. If you had a nightmare, you lay in the dark and pretended to be asleep. If you fell and cut your knee, you laughed it off and went back to the match. In that world, boys don’t cry and boys definitely don’t get to be gay.”

  “I grew up in Belfast.” Martin nodded, smiling a fatherly smile. “Probably not that different!”

  “So, I didn’t set out to make a fool of you, Pris, or to hurt you. I wanted Dad to be proud and I did love you but…I don’t think I knew the difference when it came to loving my best friend and being in love. We didn’t really do love in my family, just promotions and fancy cars.” He glanced at Josh and swallowed. “I was a man to look at, but I wasn’t grown up at all.”

  Josh scratched at the scurf of dried salt at the back of his neck. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

  “I thought you loved me,” Pris said, her voice wavering. The wind suddenly picked up outside and a crash from somewhere in the garden made everyone flinch. “You were so romantic, and everyone said I was so lucky, because you were the most handsome man on the base. I just couldn’t…I just couldn’t believe it when you told me one day…that you’re gay. It came out of nowhere.”

  “And then you left,” Rey told him. “And Mum was smashed into bits and you…you just got to keep on being Captain Collingwood of BA. You didn’t see how much it hurt her. Nobody saw that but me.”

  Pris sniffed and Stella passed her a tissue. “The rumors going around…horrible gossip I heard. And you weren’t there to hear it. I was. It was dreadful. People saying that for years you’d been with this man and that man and the other behind my back!”

  At that, Guy started forward a little and said, “I never cheated on you. Never, Pris. I swear to God, I was faithful to you.”

  “People always stick their oar in,” Martin tutted. “Never listen to gossip, love.”

  Pris blinked at Guy. She was quiet for a moment, as if deciding how sincere he was. Then she nodded. “Thank you for saying that. And thank you…thank you for not cheating on me.”

  “And I did what my dad’d done to Fred, I know that. I kept my distance and threw cash at him because I didn’t know what he’d think of me. What boy wants to know his dad’s gay?” Guy passed his hand over his eyes and when he spoke again, there was a crack in his voice. “He’s a credit to you, Pris, and Martin as well. You’ve raised an amazing boy.”

  “And he’s your blood,” Martin said. “Take your credit too.”

  Stella reached for Pris’ hand and held it. Pris was welling up, her gaze fixed on her son.

  “I’m sorry for punching you and about your name,” Rey whispered. “As soon as I’d done it, I wished I hadn’t.”

  “We begged him not to, Martin and I. You can always change it back, love—it’s not too late.” Pris blinked again and now a tear ran down her face. Another crash sounded from outside as the wind howled through the palm trees.

  “If nobody minds—Stella too—I’d like to be a Collingwood-Reynolds again.” Rey pinched his thumb and forefinger against his eyes. “Because that’s what I am, really.”

  “Of course I don’t mind!” Stella left Pris’ side and gave her fiancé a hug.

  She appeared to be on the verge of tears too, then Josh realized that he was crying as well. He ran the back of his arm across his eyes and hoped no one had noticed.

  Martin patted Rey’s shoulder, then took Stella’s empty seat beside Pris.

  It couldn’t have been that easy, surely?

  The howling wind seemed to change then, becoming sharper and more piercing. A thud and another crash echoed from outside and now Pris was sobbing, her whole body heaving with remembered grief. “I just wish you’d said sorry. When you left…you didn’t say sorry!”

  “I didn’t get a chance,” Guy protested. “You went ballistic, you threw me out! Bloody hell, Pris, of course I’m sorry.”

  He squeezed Josh’s hand then released it and climbed from the bed, approaching her as though she were a coiled rattlesnake.

  “I can’t begin to tell you and Freddie how sorry I was—I still am. I lost my best friend and my son and every day, every year, I lost another chance to do anything about it.” Guy glanced back at Rey. “I’m sorry, Pris. I really, really am.”

  “Of course I went ballistic! What was I supposed to do?” Pris’ voice had climbed higher in pitch. She turned her face away from Guy. “Just one word—sorry—that’s all! And you never said it. And you’ve had all these years to say it and you’re only saying it now!”

  “So I can’t win? Is that it?” He raked his hands through his hair. “I didn’t say it then and now I do say it, you don’t want to know!”

  Pris gripped the cushion beside her, her knuckles turning white. “You’ve had so bloody long to say it, all these years! Why has it taken you so long?”

  “But I’ve said it! And I mean it!” He opened his arms in exasperation. “I’m not on bloody trial, Pris, I don’t have to account for my movements!”

  “Too busy gallivanting about like an overgrown playboy, that’s why!”

  Josh winced.

  “Mum—” Rey began, but Guy cut him off.

  “What should I’ve done? Put on a hair shirt and moved into a monastery? So my marriage to Pris didn’t work out, but nothing that produced a man like you could ever truly have failed. You’re my son, Freddie, and I love you.” Josh saw his friend blink, saw his face crumple as the fury left him. “And, Pris, you’ve got the best husband you could ever want. I’m sorry for what happened but I get to be happy too and if I want to gallivant about, I’ll bloody gallivant. It’s allowed, you know!”

  “This is his house,” Rey told his mother, his voice cracking. “He’s sheltering all these people and he doesn’t know half of them. He’s not exactly…I don’t know…Hitler.”

  “That’s a vote of confidence.” Guy couldn’t help but laugh at his son’s unfortunate choice of words. “I may be an overgrown playboy, but I’m not Hitler.”

  Josh started to chuckle as well, and so did Stella. Pris’ racking sobs turned into a gasp, then evolved into giggles.

  She rose from the sofa, her legs unsteady, and hesitantly patted her ex-husband’s arm. “No. No, you’re not Hitler.” She glanced across the room, then looked up at Guy with something like awe in her expression. “And you’re letting complete strangers into your house to get out of the storm?”

  “The St Sebbers made me welcome when I wanted to build this house.” He closed his hand over Pris’ where she touched his arm. “And because I always have to show off, I made it too big. The least I can do is open the doors when people need a place to shelter.”

  “Well…” Pris swallowed. “You’re a very kind man, Guy Collingwood. Not something I thought I’d ever say, but there we are. And I’m sorry, I suppose…for being so rude to you in your own home, when you’d taken us in.”

  “Let’s call it blunt.” Guy smiled. “Is this a truce?”

  “Not Hitler and Stalin in kitten heels,” Martin said with a sly smile, offering Josh a conspiratorial wink. “Peace in our time!”

  “Yes, a truce.” Pris held out her hand to shake it, then smiled at Guy. “A hug, perhaps, with my old best friend?”

  Guy put his arms around her, holding her close as he
murmured, “You won the egg and spoon fair and square, in case you were wondering.”

  Pris chuckled. When she smiled at Guy, a girlish light illuminated her face. With a cheeky arch of her eyebrow, she said, “And by the way, Josh is very cute. You’ll make a lot of people jealous having him on your arm.”

  “Martin’s got a certain dignified charm,” Guy assured her. “You go exceptionally well together. Do you fancy a glass of something special? I feel like we’ve earned it.”

  “Oh yes, I definitely do!” Pris laughed, then she turned to Josh. “And you look after him, Josh! Or you’ll have his old best friend to answer to.”

  “Do I get a hug as well?” Rey asked, his voice very small. Neither of his parents answered—they simply took him into the embrace, the family reunited at last. The room seemed suddenly, wonderfully serene despite the winds battering the building, and Josh blinked, trying to stop himself from crying. When Rey finally extricated himself from his mother’s and father’s embrace, there were tears coursing down his cheeks. He brushed them away with his hand and smiled a little shyly, leaving Guy to offer his elbow to his former wife.

  With Pris on Guy’s arm, Martin offered his elbow to Josh. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, son. Can I escort you to the booze?”

  Josh inclined his head. “Lead away, kind sir!”

  “By the way,” Rey called, “Dads, you’re both invited to the wedding—no penguin suits necessary!”

  “That’s very kind of you,” Guy replied. “I’d say it’s your turn to take the family Jag, but I don’t want you to think I’m being flash…”

  “The XK?” Rey’s eyes widened and he replied, “It’s a tough job, but I’ll do it!”

  “I don’t suppose you’ve got a hanky I could borrow, Martin?” Josh asked. “I appear to be damp about the eyes.”

  Of course he does, Josh realized as Martin passed him a neatly folded handkerchief. He was that sort of man. A Belfast builder who’d never set foot in an office but still managed to navigate a potentially disastrous summit without once uttering the words mediation or safe space. Plain speaking, as he’d probably call it.

  And a magical island didn’t hurt either.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Josh stirred from the happiest of dreams late that morning to find himself in Guy Collingwood’s arms, and there, in the sunlight of the new day, they made love to the sound of birdsong and softly lapping waves. All that remained of the wedding party was a note signed by Teri, pushed subtly beneath their bedroom door.

  Wedding at noon, Una’s bar. Dress casual and best man, don’t forget the rings—we’re on it with the dresses! X

  Eventually the two men emerged from their cocoon to discover that St Sebastian had somehow, against the odds, survived the onslaught almost intact. Plastic chairs and umbrellas were scattered among upturned sun loungers, but for the few homes and the small hotel on the tiny island, the damage was slight.

  It was something close to a miracle.

  Wedding at noon, Una’s bar.

  Now that’s the wedding of the century, Josh decided as he and Guy strolled along the sand, hand in hand. And this is paradise.

  Flowers and bunting and fairy lights had appeared from somewhere to decorate the bar. And Josh had cobbled together an outfit from Guy’s wardrobe—a diaphanous white shirt and loose, dark blue linen trousers. The flip-flops would’ve enraged Pris if he’d turned up to the wedding in them yesterday, but now she only pointed and laughed as she saw them approach along the beach. Josh held up the rings, secure on their ribbon, and gave a thumbs up.

  There was no sign of Stella yet, but Rey was there beside Martin, looking not quite groom-like in a pair of freshly pressed trousers and a dazzling shirt patterned with pineapples and parrots. At the sight of Guy and Josh he trotted out into the sunlight and stood before them.

  “Your bruise’s just about gone. I never was much of a hard case,” he observed somewhat awkwardly, gesturing to his own jaw. For a moment Josh tensed, recognizing the same awkwardness in Rey and his usually so-laid-back father. Then Rey threw his arms around Guy and embraced him as he laughed. “Please let nobody nearly drown today!”

  “It’s going to be perfect,” Guy whispered, his eyes closed. “Don’t you worry.”

  And it was.

  Josh had to borrow another of Martin’s hankies as the simple ceremony to unite two lovers took place in a brightly decorated bar by the ocean. This time Guy wasn’t an unwelcome addition to the party but welcomed into the heart of it, positioned in pride of place next to Pris by Rey himself.

  It couldn’t have been more lovely, the makeshift wedding far more sincere and romantic than the polished-to-the-last-detail ceremony would have been. Even Pris and Angie were friends once more, the mothers and bridesmaids smiling together as they watched the happy couple take their vows.

  And there on Stella’s arm, something blue—the bracelet Rey had bought that first day on the beach. The bride’s dress was borrowed, her mother’s necklace she wore was old, and her husband was new.

  Noah’s sister acted as photographer, capturing every moment of Rey and Stella’s happy day. Josh dabbed at his eyes with his sleeves once he’d worn out Martin’s hankie, but as he turned from the makeshift altar and saw Guy gazing at him, the tears rising in his eyes were out of love for him.

  No, they might not have known each other very long at all, but the warmth Josh felt whenever he looked at Guy was love. He was sure of it, because he was smiling like a fool and he didn’t care. He stayed at Guy’s side for the rest of the day, never wanting to let go of his hand.

  “I love you,” he whispered to Guy.

  Guy said nothing for a few seconds, an expression of disbelieving wonder on his handsome face. Then he pressed his lips to Josh’s ear and whispered, “I love you too, you glorious thing.”

  And soon England would call them back, but Josh decided to push his usual common sense aside for now. Perhaps Guy was right. Perhaps St Seb’s was a state of mind.

  * * * *

  After the wedding, Josh went to his hotel room and packed. He didn’t need his little room on stilts anymore as he would stay in Guy’s house for the rest of his holiday. As the party at the beach bar quietened down and the wedding guests headed off to bed, Josh and Guy, arm-in-arm , trundled Josh’s suitcase home. To Guy’s home—their home—for the next few days.

  “I was thinking about New Year,” Guy mused softly as they strolled. “Would it look too flashy to invite everyone over here for my usual party? Am I an overgrown playboy? I don’t feel like one. I just feel like…life’s for living. Just because I’m forty-nine, I don’t have to stop being me.”

  “An overgrown playboy sounds fun to me!” Josh said. “You’re right, life is for living. If you want to invite everyone over here, then why not? And if someone thinks that’d be flashy, well…let them. They can stay at home with a stack of stale mince pies and the last of the eggnog.”

  “If they really want to, they can pay for a flight and I’ll magically upgrade them.” He grinned, then kissed Josh’s hair. “I think you and me are going to have a wonderful time, Josh, with loads of cinnamon buns.”

  They wandered through a grove of palm trees, strung with lights. Crickets rattled in the undergrowth and the waves, chastened now after the storm, susurrated along the beach.

  “I’m sure we’ll have a great time. It’ll be fab to come back again so soon.” Josh frowned. “England’s going to seem so dreary after being here.”

  “No, it won’t—it’s what you make it!” How wonderfully Guy that way of thinking is. “And we’ll make it wonderful.”

  “I hope it’ll work when we go back to England. Us, I mean. Because I do love you, Guy. I don’t know how, but I do.” Josh smiled at him. “And I’d hate to lose it because we have a misunderstanding at the checkout in the supermarket. It doesn’t seem very St Seb’s.”

  “Do I really seem like the sort of chap who’d throw over the finest man he’s ever met because
of an argument over veg?” Guy touched his forehead to Josh’s. “Stop analyzing what might happen and just enjoy finding out. There’s such a thing as a happy ending.”

  “I hope so—I really do.” Josh kissed Guy’s cheek, and they continued on to his house. He was prudent, that was all—he always had been. Josh, the high achiever, the diplomat, the man who didn’t fall in love after two days.

  And now, somehow, he had.

  And it just all seemed far too perfect.

  “I have to tell you something though.” Guy lifted Josh’s case up onto the chaise longue where Pris had sat last night. He turned to look at Josh, a mischievous smile lighting up his face. “I didn’t have a clue how to be solution focused versus problem focused. I just knew that I had to tell my son that I loved him.”

  “That seemed to work, though!” Josh kicked off his borrowed flip-flops and stretched out on Guy’s bed. “I’m so sorry your family went through all that in the past. I had no idea…but you know, Rey was always interested in me being gay. I knew he was straight, but I wonder now if he was trying to understand how it worked. So he could understand you better? I’m glad you’re all talking now, though.”

  “I feel as though we’re going to be all right, Fred and me.” Guy sat on the edge of the bed beside him. “You’re very wise, darling, I hope a little bit of it rubs off on me!”

  “I’m not wise!” Josh insisted. “My mum’s a maths teacher—I’ve grown up believing that everything has its place, everything has its own logic. See, even St Seb’s does!”

  “Maybe it’s because I have to be very disciplined when I’m flying. Turns out piloting a jet’s a rather responsible job, you know!” He saw the mischievous smile return, then Guy snuggled down beside him. “So I like to be anything but when my feet are on the ground. So apply your logic to us. Are we part of a grand design too?”

  “I think so.” Josh caressed Guy’s arm with a delicate touch. “You’ve made me throw up my hands and say what the hell. Before, I would’ve told myself that I couldn’t possibly love you so soon, that it doesn’t make any sense. But it does make sense. I can’t imagine being without you, Guy.”