16

16

Fen woke with a start. It was morning and he was in his bed and not Ripley's and he was…disappointed. He'd given Ripley a blow job in the hall…and…it had been so hot. Ripley's cock had… Why am I in here on my own? He remembered coming up to his room to sort himself out, Ripley behind him on the stairs. Fen had sat on the bed to take off the rest of his clothes and… Then what? He pulled back the duvet. He was still in his jeans and one sock. I fell asleep? Fen cringed. Oh God, I did. Shit!

He grabbed his phone. Ripley had left a message. I was tempted to wake you with a kiss, but you were exhausted last night. Don't forget to book our trip! See you around one. I'll bring lunch.

It was seven thirty so at least he'd not slept the morning away. That sometimes happened when he didn't have to get up for work. He did his exercises, took his tablets, showered, dressed and went downstairs. The snow had gone. If they were going on a trip that was just as well.

While he had breakfast, he googled. Fen couldn't help wondering if this weekend away was some sort of test, Ripley wanting to see how much he spent, where he chose. Fen already had an idea of where they could go, but wasn't sure how long it would take to drive there. One site said three hours to Lyme Regis, and another said four. Hmm.

He chose an Airbnb with good ratings, then booked a fossil-hunting tour for Saturday morning, a private one so Fen didn't hold up a group by being slow. That was a lot of money spent in a flash. It made Fen anxious even though it wasn't his money. If it had been, they'd have stayed in a mobile home and done the group tour. Not really Ripley's style. Fen assumed he'd like to go to Lyme Regis, but what if he didn't?

Well, it was too late now. Booked and paid for. All Fen had to do was walk on the beach for three hours. He groaned. Walking anywhere for three hours would be challenging. If he began to struggle, he'd sit and wait for Ripley and the guide to come back. But…he needed to buy rugged boots like the ones Ripley had, or wellingtons. Walking boots would be better. They'd keep his feet warmer and offer more stability. Maybe they could stop somewhere and he could get some.

Fen didn't bother booking a restaurant. They could have pizzas delivered or buy them en route, together with something for breakfast. Which made him wonder what was provided in an Airbnb. On the website, he found a list of amenities for the cottage and it looked as if everything was supplied except food. Yes—to salt and pepper but no tea bags or coffee, sugar or milk. So he filled a cool bag with things he thought they might need.

Packing for himself was easy. It wasn't as if he had much to choose from. He tended to wear his clothes until they fell apart. Fen made a neat pile on the bed of what he wanted to take, added his medicine and toiletries, then crossed the landing.

First impressions were that Ripley's bedroom was big and tidy with lots of blues and shades of grey. A moody seascape hung over the bed. There were no photographs anywhere. A distressed leather armchair and footstool were positioned by the window, grey Shaker-style wardrobes faced the bed and there were two matching bedside chests of drawers. The one on the left held books sandwiched between the Mouseman bookends Fen had seen in Ripley's mother's house, and he smiled. There was also a Kindle, and a notebook and pen.

He took a peek at the bathroom. That was big too. White and grey. There was a huge walk-in shower, bath and a double sink. He'd leave Ripley to pack his own toiletries. Fen chose casual clothes and laid them on the bed. Most things were grey, blue or black with designer labels. Shirts and suits hung in lines with shoes in racks below. There was a drawer full of underwear. Fen had eight pairs. Another full of socks. Eight pairs for Fen. And so many ties! Fen had never had to wear a tie, even for school. He wasn't sure he knew how to fasten one.

Inside the wardrobe nearest the window there was a floor safe, and on one of the shelves above it was the wooden puzzle box that had started everything. Fen picked it up and sat on the chair.

The top of the box now had a key in it, and it was empty. Hopefully, Ripley had put the medal in the safe. Fen was intrigued by the lower half which resisted all attempts to get into it. He figured it probably had to be opened from inside the top bit. Fen pressed and pushed at various places, inside and out and several minutes later, he'd managed to slide a panel aside and move a sliver of wood and…bingo! Opening it required two places to be manipulated at the same time.

When he pulled open the lower section, he saw a piece of folded paper inside. Fen was tempted, but he closed it up again and put the box back. It had looked like a letter and he wasn't going to pry.

But he did go and investigate the summer house, which wasn't locked. It didn't seem as though anyone had been in there for several months, judging by the cobwebs and dust. There was an old wooden table, a storage unit and two garden chairs inside. Cleaned up, it would be a great place to work.

As he went back across to the house, he called Alistair.

"Hi, Fen. How are you?"

"Fine. Mum said you'd look for things for me to restore on a self-employed basis. Was that merely to make her happy or did you mean it?"

"Of course I mean it. I'm very sorry about what happened over that ring. I spoke again to Tara but she's sticking to her story."

"Maybe she's telling the truth. But so am I. Anyway, what's done is done. I can't prove I didn't take it but I swear I didn't. If you could give me things to repair and restore, that would be great, though I only have hand tools and no spare pieces of wood, or varnish or glue." Or a whole lot of other stuff.

"I can make up a box of bits and pieces for you. Where do you want me to bring them?"

Fen thought about saying he could fetch them but he probably couldn't. As long as they were delivered in the daytime, Ripley was unlikely to be around. Even if he was, so what?

"26 Amesbury Gardens. Islington." He gave Alistair the postcode.

"Is this where your friend lives?"

"Yes. He has a summer house I can work in."

"We're busy moving your mum this weekend but I can call in on Monday. I'll text you a time."

"Great. Thank you."

"Remember we have a room for you if you ever need one."

"Thanks, Alistair. I appreciate it. I hope everything goes smoothly this weekend. If you find that commemorative fifty pence I lost inside the sofa when I was seven, you can keep it. Bye."

Fen went back into the house. So… He was going to stay here, be with Ripley. Accept the money. He shivered. Fen didn't want to talk to Ripley about it. He wasn't sure he could actually say I'll be what you want for six months and take the money. It would just make it feel worse. But he was saying yes. By his actions he was agreeing with Ripley's proposal. Maybe Ripley hadn't wanted to ask him directly. They'd both slid into this but Fen wasn't sorry.

By the time Ripley came home, Fen had googled fossil hunting in Dorset and was as much an expert as the internet could make him. He pushed to his feet when Ripley came into the kitchen.

"Hi. All packed?" Ripley asked. He put a paper bag on the granite work surface as he walked towards him.

"Sort of."

Ripley pulled him into his arms and hugged him and Fen melted.

"You better tell me what sort of means. We're both going, right?"

"Yes." Was that the word Fen hadn't wanted to articulate? "I put your clothes on your bed. I thought you might like to check I hadn't chosen stuff that didn't fit or you didn't like."

"No item would be in my wardrobe if it didn't fit or if I didn't like it."

"Why do you need twenty-seven suits?"

That made Ripley give a loud laugh. "You can't count. Six I think."

"Or a hundred and twenty-seven ties?"

"Guilty."

"I didn't know which toiletries you wanted so I left that for you to do. My stuff is ready but not in a bag. My case is too big to use, even for your things too."

"I'll find a bag. Let's eat."

He sat on one of the swivel seats and pulled over the food. "Tuna, mayo and cheese on cranberry bread or pastrami on rye. You can choose or we can have half each."

"I'm not sure I can eat as much as that but let's share. I'll get a couple of plates and knives." Fen's mouth watered. There was so much filling in the sandwiches.

Ripley put glasses of water next to the plates.

"Mmm," Fen hummed as he bit into the tuna one. Oh wow. I am ruined for life. Soft, sweet bread and so much tuna.

"Good, isn't it?" Ripley said. "How did you get on this morning? Where are we going?"

"I couldn't find a hotel in the perfect spot in the Bahamas, so we're in an Airbnb in the UK. I've packed a few essentials in a cool bag. I thought we could call in at a supermarket and buy pizza for tonight and croissants for breakfast."

Fen watched Ripley carefully for signs he wasn't happy but didn't see any. Then again, he was a barrister and expert at hiding how he felt.

"That sounds fine."

"I also need to buy boots so we have to stop to do that."

"Boots? So where are we going?"

"You don't want it to be a surprise?"

"Yes. You can surprise me now. Where are we heading?"

"I'll tell you but I want to take your picture so you can see how thrilled you are." He held up his phone. "Ready? Stoke on Trent."

Fen caught a lot of expressions ranging from discomfort to amused.

"Riiight. And is there much to do there?"

Fin widened his eyes. "The World of Wedgwood! The website promises hours of delightful fun. And then the Pottery Museum. Ditto."

"In boots?"

"Absolutely. There'll be a lot of clay dust."

"I see."

"Did I fool you?"

"With which part?"

"The Pottery Museum is shut, but we can go round the World of Wedgwood twice!"

"I've a good mind to take you there now."

"Lyme Regis," Fen said quickly. "I've booked a private fossil hunting tour for tomorrow morning." He crossed his fingers on his lap.

Ripley took hold of his hand and uncrossed Fen's fingers. "My God, Fen. I'm speechless. Well, no I'm not. I'm rarely speechless. I couldn't have chosen better myself. It sounds fantastic. Are you… Are you going to be able to cope with the beach? Am I allowed to ask that? Tell me if I overstep the mark."

"You're allowed to talk about my condition and my limitations. It's okay. I opted for the Charmouth walk rather than Lyme Regis beach because it's easier underfoot apparently. I won't be able to use my crutch, but if I struggle, I'll sit and wait for you to come back, assuming you come back the same way and don't leave me to be cut off by the tide. I paid for a picnic too. The company provide a shelter to sit in to eat in if the weather doesn't cooperate. No refunds if it rains."

"Right. I'll put together the rest of what I need, then go and get the car." He leaned over and kissed him. "Thank you. Was it your first choice of where to go?"

"Yes. Well, after Stoke-on-Trent."

"I suspect it's a perfectly nice city."

"Probably. Robbie Williams came from there and he can almost do no wrong in my eyes. Though the captain of the Titanic was also born there. The same can't be said of him."

"You're funny."

I'm not usually. Not this funny. You're changing me.

When Ripley pulled up in the car, Fen was waiting on the doorstep. One large bag contained all their things, and Ripley had added a corkscrew and a couple of bottles of wine to the cool bag. He was surprised how much he was looking forward to this trip. Fen had chosen perfectly. He climbed out to put the bags and coats in the boot and Fen slipped into the passenger seat.

"I've put Dorchester into the satnav." Ripley sat beside him. "If we hit bad traffic and it looks like we'll be late, we'll shop in Southampton."

"Fine." Fen fastened his seatbelt.

When Ripley started up, the radio came back on halfway though I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day and he huffed and switched it off. He kept forgetting to look up how to stop the radio coming on automatically. He didn't usually mind but endless Christmas hits were irritating.

"Want to listen to my playlist?" Fen asked.

"Is it every Christmas hit under the sun? If so, no."

"Andrea Bocelli singing Con Te Partirò, followed by Hozier, then The Spice Girls' greatest hits."

Ripley shot him a glance and Fen laughed. "Some of that is true."

"After we get out of London, we can listen. Can you drive?"

"Only an automatic. It was a bit of a waste for me to learn really. But Mum insisted on me having lessons. By the way, Alistair is bringing me some restoration work on Monday. I had a look in the summer house and it's great. Though I need to evict Incy Wincy and his army."

"Remind me to put the heating on in there when we get back. It takes a while to warm up."

"My fingers don't work so well in cold weather. Would you rather be hot or cold?"

"Are we working through a list of ways to keep the conversation flowing on a long car journey?"

"There's a list?"

"Probably. Er… I suppose it depends on whether you mean too hot or too cold. I like sunshine and blue skies, but I also like mountains and snow."

"Skiing?"

"Yes."

"It looks fun."

"It is. We could go. You don't have to ski. There's lots of other stuff to do. Just riding to the top of the mountain is exhilarating. The views are amazing."

"You wrap up warm when you're skiing, don't you?"

"True, so I guess my answer is I'd rather be hot."

"Me too. I feel the cold more than most. Though if I had to choose which animal to be, I'd pick a polar bear. My favourite apex predator. They can swim for days at a time and the females live without feeding for eight months while they rear their cubs. Though I wouldn't want to kill anything so I wouldn't last long as a polar bear and I definitely wouldn't want to eat anything that wasn't cooked."

"Only humans cook their food. I think leopards leave theirs out in the sun but it's not cooking, more like rotting."

"If I was marooned on a desert island, I wouldn't survive. I couldn't kill anything and wouldn't eat anything that looked weird. If I'd survived a crash-landing in the Andes, I wouldn't have lasted long."

"I think you'd be surprised by what you'd do if you were desperate."

"Could you eat another person? A dead one. I'm not sure I needed to add the word dead."

"Maybe, if it was a matter of survival."

"What about fugu? Wasp crackers? Shiokara? Cherry blossom meat? Shirako?"

"Right, Japanese expert. I know fugu is puffer fish and more dangerous than cyanide. I can guess what wasp crackers are, and they sound vile, but what's the rest?"

"Shiokara is pieces of meat taken from various sea creatures, served in a paste of their own salted and fermented viscera. Oh, and it's served raw." Fen pretended to gag. "Cherry blossom meat might sound delightful, but it's raw horse."

"Oh my God."

"And Shirako is a cod's sperm sac. Apparently, it's soft and creamy and you can have it steamed or deep fried. If you wonder how I know, I've been looking stuff up so I'm aware of what not to eat. I suspect the only places I'd feel happy going to are McDonald's and KFC. And I'm not that fond of chicken."

Ripley smiled. Without being too chatty, Fen kept him entertained. Not only was he an expert on what not to eat, he'd also clearly been googling fossil hunting in Dorset and was so enthusiastic about what they might find, Ripley considered secretly buying a fossil and making sure Fen found it. Then he thought of how that would go down if what he'd done was discovered and he changed his mind.

Fen's playlist was a mix, though missing the Spice Girls. Ripley had a playlist too but it was mostly for working out so there was nothing slow.

It was gone four by the time they reached Dorchester. They'd been lucky with the traffic, which had enabled him to keep his foot down. He parked in a multi-storey next to a shopping centre where there was a large supermarket. They could get everything they needed there. Ripley suspected Fen would argue about being bought not just boots, but a waterproof jacket, lined trousers, and a new hat and gloves, but it was going to happen.

When Fen went along with the purchases, Ripley was shocked. He didn't miss the intake of breath at the till when the total amount was announced, but Fen still pulled out his wallet. Ah. That's why he's not made a fuss.

Ripley gently pushed Fen's hand away. "I'm paying." Then he quietly added. "Please let me."

Fen looked as though he was going to object, but in the end he didn't.

A quick trip to the supermarket and they were back on the road. Another twenty-five miles to go. Except now Fen was too quiet and Ripley wasn't sure how to put things right. Listening to more of Fen's playlist helped, but as the satnav announced they were arriving at their destination, Fen perked up.

"I hope this place is okay. Are you all right to drive all the way back if it's not?"

Ripley tsked. "It'll be fine. Airbnb hosts generally go to a lot of trouble to make sure guests have a good stay. They rely on reviews and repeat bookings."

He pulled into the parking spot at the side of the cottage, illuminated by a light above the door, and turned off the engine. A tree in the small front garden was covered in fairy lights, each branch wrapped so it looked as if the tree was made out of lights.

"The key is in a lockbox by the door." Fen climbed out, then clung to the car for a moment before he straightened up. He took a picture of the tree and turned to smile at Ripley.

Ripley suspected Fen rarely went on long car journeys. He wished he'd thought to stop more often to let him take a break. He let Fen go ahead, then picked up the groceries they'd bought and carried them in. The property looked fine. There was a Christmas tree but no other decorations. It was a good-sized living room with a sectional sofa, large TV and a kitchen area. There were stairs between that and the kitchen. Hopefully only one bedroom.

"There's a downstairs bathroom and a utility," Fen said. "It's lovely, isn't it?"

Ripley met his glance. "It looks great. I'll bring in the rest."

Fen was loading groceries into the fridge when Ripley returned. Ripley cut the tags off Fen's new things and hung up the jacket next to his. Their hats and gloves went on the side table by the door.

"You'll take all that out of my money, right?" Fen asked quietly.

Ripley had his back to him and was glad Fen hadn't seen his face, though he wasn't sure what was on his face.

Before he could answer, Fen had spoken again. "I could have paid."

Ripley turned round. "I asked you to book this. It's not your fault you didn't have the clothing you needed. Let me have your bank details."

For a moment, he wasn't convinced he'd done the right thing. He'd not asked Fen for his decision, but hadn't it been given with that question? Isn't this what I want? Since he'd suggested it, it fucking well should be. He put three thousand in Fen's account and set it up to happen regularly.

"Want to go for a walk?" Fen asked. "We could find a pub and have a drink and then come back for pizza."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll take our things upstairs."

One bedroom, one bathroom. There was a hot tub in the garden. All of that should have made him happy, but it didn't. Ripley sat on the bed and his shoulders sagged. The path ahead had been drawn by him. So be it. He might as well try to enjoy himself as he walked down it. He was paying enough for it.

Back downstairs, Fen was wearing his new blue jacket, boots, hat and gloves. "The sea isn't far. We could head there first."

"Did you know there was a hot tub in the garden?" Ripley pulled on his jacket and changed into his boots.

"No! I missed that. Is it switched on?"

Ripley picked up a folder of information from the coffee table. "Yes, we need to turn it up when we get back."

He locked the door, noted Fen hadn't taken his crutch and told himself not to say anything. It wasn't as if it had been forgotten. When Fen reached for Ripley's hand, Ripley let him take it.

Fen squeezed his fingers. "If you don't like holding hands, we can let go if we see someone."

"I'm not used to holding hands," Ripley said quietly. I'm too old to hold hands, but…

"Did your previous boyfriends not want to? Or was it you who didn't want to?"

Ripley gave a short laugh. "I don't know. No one has ever reached for my hand before."

"You don't even shake hands?"

"Strangely enough, barristers don't shake hands with each other."

"Really?"

"In sword-bearing times, people used to shake hands to show they weren't armed. But barristers, as gentlemen, trusted each other and so didn't need to bother."

"Did you hold your mum's hand when you were little?"

"No."

"My mum would still hold mine if I let her. But I've never had my hand held by a guy, so thank you for holding mine. I like it, but I get why we should be cautious about doing it."

"And you with your ninja skills?"

"Limited ninja skills and I left my weapon behind. Ooh, can you hear the sea?"

Ripley could hear the crash and suck of waves and as they turned the corner, he saw the tide was in.

"Wow, look at the water," Fen said. "If we go too close, we're going to get wet."

"How long since you've seen the sea?"

"Three years. A day trip to Hastings. This is great."

"Even though it's dark and cold?"

"Great," Fen repeated. "Wild and fierce and loud. And definitely worth a picture. I'd be scared stiff to be out on the sea in weather like this, but to look at it from land… Fantastic!"

They found a pub and after a brief exchange of words, he gave way to Fen buying the drinks. He could see he had to let Fen pay sometimes. It might be Ripley's money Fen was using, but even so… Ripley picked up the drinks and as he turned to look for somewhere to sit, a spot came free by an open fire. Ripley slipped past Fen to secure the table earning a scowl from a woman heading for the same place.

Fen sat next to him. "Were you the champion at musical chairs?"

"Naturally. Cheers." He touched his glass to Fen's.

"Cheers. Would you have let her have the table if I hadn't been with you?"

What was the right answer? He went with the truth. "Probably."

"Just as she wouldn't have given you that look if I'd had my crutch."

"Probably. But I wanted to sit by the fire."

When did you last go out with anyone?"

"Two years ago."

"How long did it last?"

"Nearly three years."

Fen chewed his lip, then said, "That's a long time."

Not as long as Ripley had expected the relationship to last. He took a sip of his gin and tonic. "What about you?"

"I've never actually been out with anyone."

Ripley almost dropped his glass. "What?"

Fen shrugged. "I'm not a…you know what."

"What?"

Fen glared.

Then Ripley got it. Fen wasn't a virgin.

"I've done…stuff but I've never been anyone's actual boyfriend, well for longer than four dates."

Ripley didn't try to hide his shock. "Why not? You must have been asked out."

"I'm very picky." Fen's mouth turned up in a nervous smile.

Do not say anything about paying him. "You told me you didn't tell people about your BMD."

"I told you."

"You did." Ripley's hand settled on Fen's under the table and their fingers curled together. "You think guys would care? That it would deter them from asking you out?"

"I suppose it wouldn't matter to some, but if I got close to someone, it would start to be an issue. I don't need anyone to feel sorry for me. I suppose that means I put up my own barriers."

Ripley nodded.

"On the other hand, if I don't find a fantastic fossil tomorrow, then you're allowed to feel sorry for me."

"You could always buy one."

Fen widened his eyes. "No way. Finding one is everything. Just like the one you and your dad found. I mean, I'd love to trip over—not literally—a pliosaur but I'm not that lucky. Though I probably will trip over. And yes, I'll try hard not to."

"Try even harder not to trip me up too."