David had been fondly anticipating a warm welcome when he got home from work.
He hadn’t anticipated it coming from two excited children, however. Leo ran to hug him as he stepped in the door, and while he was still reeling from the unexpected onslaught, Lucy yelled out, “We’re coming to live with you!” and proceeded to bounce up and down.
Rory emerged from the living room with a somewhat shifty expression. “Uh, guess what? Evie said yes.”
“That’s wonderful! Leo-lapinou, could I possibly have my legs back for a moment? I’d like to kiss your daddy.” Released, David went to embrace his boyfriend, swiftly banishing a pang of regret for one or two highly pleasurable activities which would now have to be deferred until after 9 p.m. Then he drew back. “Is this okay? In front of les enfants?”
Rory grinned. “Don’t worry. I warned ’em.”
True enough, Leo was totally ignoring their semipublic display of affection in favour of gleefully clomping about in David’s second-favourite pair of loafers, while Lucy eyed her father and David with satisfaction written all over her face. “Daddy says I can have my room back now.”
“But of course.” David pulled Rory back into his arms. “The handover appears to have been accomplished remarkably quickly,” he murmured in Rory’s ear.
“Nah, well, it wasn’t quite like that. Evie’s gone into labour early.”
“Mummy’s in hospital having that baby.” Lucy, bless her, didn’t sound like she’d been looking forward to the event.
“That’s good news, isn’t it? I mean, it’s not too early, is it?” David glanced at Rory for confirmation.
He shook his head. “Nah, only six days. Should be fine.”
“Babies smell,” Lucy said with disgust. “And they cry all the time.” She cast a guilty glance at her brother. “Except Leo. He was okay.”
David raised an eyebrow. “I’m guessing that when we move your toys over, dollies aren’t really going to feature, are they?”
“Dolls are boring. They don’t do anything. Can we have fish and chips for tea? Daddy said we could if you said yes.” Her folded arms and beady little eyes made it clear that no was an option best avoided.
“Of course we can, ma choupinette.” David quite liked fish. And there would undoubtedly be no shortage of volunteers to eat up his chips for him. “Just let me get changed first.”
“And you finish your homework, love,” Rory put in. “I’ll, um, pop up and help David get changed.
“That’s what Lewis says when he wants to have cuddles with Mummy,” Lucy said, pulling out her school books.
She said it offhandedly, and for once it was Leo who sent them the suspicious look.
David stifled a laugh at Rory’s impressively guilty expression.
“Uh, yeah, love? Fancy that.”
Leo tugged on Rory’s arm. “Can I play on your phone, Daddy?”
It was the longest sentence David had heard him utter voluntarily. He beamed and blinked his eyes rapidly against a speck of sentiment that appeared to have got lodged there.
Rory was smiling too as he handed over his phone. “As long as you don’t disturb your sister.”
They managed to snatch a quick snog in David’s bedroom, which they had to stop a lot sooner than David would have liked. He reminded himself there would be plenty of opportunity later for all that and more, and cast a fond glance at the fairies flitting across the walls. They had been pleasant companions, but David couldn’t regret leaving them behind.
Gregory, for his part, had a conspiratorial glint in his eye. Bless. Then again, he undoubtedly knew full well he’d be moving into Rory’s bedroom too. He was probably looking forward to the show.
“You sure you’re gonna be okay with all this?” Rory asked. “It’s a lot to take on.”
David stroked his stubble-roughened cheek fondly. “I suppose you are, but the children make up for it.”
Rory laughed. “Git.”
“Moi?” David forced himself to be serious. “I know it seems a lot all at once, but . . . it feels right. And I have always loved a challenge.”
Rory took a breath, as if he was about to say something, but then there was a loud shout of “I’ve finished!” from downstairs, and he went down to check over Lucy’s homework instead.
They strolled down the hill to the chip shop in the gathering dusk, the children running on a few yards ahead with strict instructions to stop when they got to the road.
Rory coughed. “So, uh, Evie called while you were upstairs. She’s had the baby. Turned up two minutes after Lewis did, she reckoned. Both of ’em are doing well. They’ve called him Logan.”
“That’s nice. Their own little Wolverine,” David said vaguely, distracted. He’d just noticed something. He turned to give Rory a quizzical look. “You’re holding my hand. In public.”
“Oh. Sorry, mate. You don’t do that?” Rory let go.
That wasn’t exactly what David had been aiming for. “I do. But since when do you?”
Rory’s forehead creased. “I always held Evie’s hand when we was out. And Jenni’s. ’Cept when she was mad at me.”
“Yes, but they’re women.”
“Oh. Right. So it’s not, like, a thing gay blokes do?” The frown deepened. “Huh. I never really thought about it, but you never see Mark and Patrick holding hands. Or Mr. Emeny and his bloke. Sorry, mate. You gotta tell me if I start treating you like a girl again. Old dogs, new tricks, all that.”
David stared. “Rory. Dearest, darling Rory. Sweet, innocent Rory. It’s not that gay couples don’t want to hold hands. It’s just that one develops a certain caution against doing it in public. If, God forbid, we should split up and you find yourself enamoured of another man, please tell me you won’t go striding through the centre of, say, Brixton engaging in public displays of affection.”
Rory scratched his head. “Uh. You’re saying we’d get a kicking? That wouldn’t happen round here, though, would it?”
“It can happen anywhere.” David felt, for once, cast in the role of blinkered Horatio. What must it be like to be so certain of public approval for one’s love life? “It’s happened in Brighton, which is generally agreed to be the last place in Britain to visit if you don’t want to witness any non-straight goings-on. People, even those who pride themselves upon being tolerant, don’t like to have two men together thrust upon their notice.”
“That ain’t fair.”
“Congratulations. You are now a fully fledged graduate of the University of Life.”
“That’s . . . that’s shit.”
“Ooh, a double first.”
“I mean, that’s really shit.”
“Sorry, no extra credit available. Would you like instead to hold a minute’s silence for your lost straight privilege?”
Rory’s jaw firmed. “No. I’d like to hold my bloke’s hand, though. And I don’t give a monkey’s who gets their knickers in a twist about it.” He suited his actions to his words.
David felt a frisson at his hand being captured so masterfully, and twined his fingers into Rory’s as firmly as possible, in case they started getting skittish once more. He hoped this was the right thing to do.
Just as he was starting to relax, he noticed the children had come to a halt a few yards ahead of them.
A dark, vaguely man-shaped figure lumbered into view.
It was Barry.
He looked at Rory and David, his gaze dropping to their joined hands. David swallowed and felt Rory give him a reassuring little extra squeeze.
Barry squared his shoulders and marched over to them. “All right, Rory? Dave? Listen, mate, I, uh, I been talking to the missus—gave me a proper ear-bashing, she did—and, uh, I think I might have been a bit out of order on your birthday. Wanted to, you know, um, apologise.” Barry swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and David was surprised to find himself feeling a soupçon of sympathy for the man, quite beside being far too happy for Rory to correct Barry on his name.
“It ain’t been the same without you to have a pint and a laugh with,” Barry went on with a plaintive note. “So what if you’re a bit bent? Who gives a monkey’s? You’re still me best mate, same as you always been.” He sounded as if he might be quoting Mrs. Barry there. Clearly she was a woman of great good sense—apart from her somewhat questionable choice of husband. “So. No hard feelings, yeah?” The Adam’s apple got another workout.
Rory took an audible breath. “Course, mate. Uh, we’re just off down the chippie, wanna join us?”
Barry nodded jerkily. “Yeah. That’d be great.”
David’s heart swelled. He could almost hear sweeping music playing. It was a beautiful moment.
“Daddy!” Lucy snapped. “Come on. We’re hungry.”
Rory laughed, and David found himself sharing a sympathetic glance with Barry, of all people. “All right, all right.” Rory ruffled his daughter’s hair, ignoring her scowl. “No need to get your kecks in a kerfuffle.”
Later, while Rory was bathing the children, David rang Hen to tell her the news—not without a certain amount of foreboding. He was fairly sure she wouldn’t disown him for his choice of romantic partner, but he’d never been able to bear disappointing her.
“Rory and I are together,” he blurted out instead of his usual greeting, and braced himself.
“Then I’m very happy for you.”
“You are?” It possibly came out as something of a squawk.
“Oh, darling. What must you think of me? I’ve had some time to think since we last spoke—I won’t ask what you’ve been doing since then,” Hen added in a tone so arch it would have a neo-Gothic architect in raptures. “But you were right. Ursula would have been miserable if she’d married my Armand. And so would you.”
“You mean, aside from the incest factor?”
“Yes, darling. I should never have let you think your Rory didn’t care for you. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
“You won’t? Can I have that in writing?”
She laughed, and all was well with the world. “I think that would be setting a dangerous precedent, don’t you? But I will try. If he’s what makes you happy.”
“He is. He does.” That pesky allergy was playing up again. David fumbled for a tissue.
“Then give him my love, and I’ll come and see the two of you soon.”
“Four,” David corrected. “The children are coming to live with us. Evie said yes.”
“And here I was worried your life with Rory might lack excitement. Then may I hope you’ll be looking for a larger house?”
“Ideally, yes, but we’ll have to wait and see how my new job works out. Ooh, did I tell you I got a new job? Anyway, we’ll probably put twin beds in the fairy bedroom for the children for now, until my employment situation is more certain and we know what we’ll be able to afford.”
“. . . I may be able to help you out there, actually.”
“Hen! We wouldn’t want to take your money. You should be spending it on you.”
“Ah, but darling, it isn’t, in fact, all my money. Quite a lot of it is yours.”
“I know I left my Winnie-the-Pooh piggy bank behind when I left home, but there can’t have been that much in it.”
“No, Davey-darling. It’s from the sale of the house. When I sold it, I got far more than I needed for the cottage, so I put the money into trust for you until you’re twenty-five. But we can break that, if you need it sooner, although your birthday’s only a few months away in any case.”
“You never told me all that.”
“It never seemed to be a good idea, before. You’d only have spent it on something unsuitable. Or someone.” She laughed, and David could picture her lovely face crinkling up into what he felt strongly should be described as a happiness of wrinkles. “And you seemed to be having such fun trying to find yourself a sugar daddy.”
“I was not! I just prefer a certain maturity in a partner.”
“So I’ve seen. But up until now, you’ve always preferred a certain minimum bank balance.”
“That was a coincidence.”
“No, darling, it was a trend. I’m not at all displeased to see you bucking it now. Money isn’t everything.”
“So you’re happy I’m with Rory?” David couldn’t help grasping for confirmation that they had her blessing.
“I’m sure, once I get to know him properly, I shall like him very much, and I can’t wait to meet the children.”
“You’ll adore Leo.”
“Not Lucy?”
“I suspect it’ll be more a relationship of mutual respect, there.”
“Well, forewarned is forearmed. I’ll come prepared to spoil them rotten. It is a grandmother’s prerogative, you know. Now, I’ll get the solicitors to write to you with details of the fund, and you can draw on it when you want.”
David considered. While it would be rather nice to have everything handed to him on a plate . . . “Thank you, but I’d like to try and make it on my own two feet for now, Henny-Penny. Although it is good to know the money’s there, should we need it.”
“Just don’t make compromises you don’t have to. Oh, and you should make sure you get a piano. I’ve missed hearing you play. In fact, that will be my housewarming present to you, when you move.”
“Hen, you’re a darling. Now, I have to go, as I can hear the sweet voices of angelic children demanding stories with menaces.”
Hen laughed. “You would almost think they were related to you, wouldn’t you?”
They said their good-byes, and David skipped downstairs to read Francesca the Football Fairy to the children, his heart light.
Rory was lying in wait for him in the hallway. “You got a mo?” he asked shyly.
David sent a significant look at the living room door. “Possibly, although only one mo or Lucy will be out for my blood.” Even as he said it, he slipped into Rory’s warm, strong, perfect arms.
Rory pulled him close. “There was something I wanted to say earlier, and I never got the chance. I mean, you never know what’s gonna happen in your life, and I don’t want it to not get said . . . I know we’ve only known each other a short time, and I ain’t expecting you to feel the same, but, well, I, uh . . .”
About to burst with happiness, David couldn’t wait for him to finish. “I love you too.”
Rory’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “You do? That’s . . . that’s just . . . Oh, sod it.”
He squeezed David tight and kissed him.
David wasn’t certain, but he had the strongest impression that, in the distance, fairy bells were ringing.