20

20

It had crossed Ripley's mind that Fen might have gone by the time he got back home. Then he thought about how much he was paying him to be there. How could he know if Fen was only staying because of the money? That was a problem of his own making.

Ripley had been shocked for a moment this morning when he'd woken up lying next to Fen. He only vaguely remembered coming into Fen's room. Ripley swallowed hard. Part of him had needed to be with him. He'd thought being close to Fen would help him sleep and he'd been right.

After a session on his new exercise bike, cycling down US Highway 1, he showered and dressed and there'd still been no sign of Fen. He'd left for work without speaking to him and there was no sign of him now Ripley had come home. No aroma of anything cooking. No sound. But as he walked into the dark kitchen area, he saw a light on in the summer house. Fen sat at the table with his back towards him. Ripley's heart jumped and he found himself sighing. Still here.

Because you're paying him!

When Ripley opened the door, Fen looked over his shoulder. "Wow. Is that the time?"

"Playing chess?" Ripley looked at the board Fen was working on, then at the array of materials around him.

"I prefer Dinosaur Snap but only because my mum always let me win. As soon as I was old enough to play Monopoly it was every player for himself. I hold the record for being sent to jail the most times in any one game. Eight."

"Oh dear. Been okay in here?

"I love it. Thank you for the flower."

It was on the table in front of him.

"I…" Ripley hadn't been able to bring himself to write a note. He'd already revealed too much yesterday.

"Mum made us dinner. It needs heating up." Fen tidied up what he was doing, screwing lids back on jars and bottles.

"That was kind of her."

"Enchiladas, but I suspect anyone from Mexico would throw their hands in the air in horror. They taste lovely though."

"Would you like to come to court with me tomorrow?"

Fen turned to look at him. "Watch you work? Yes, that would be great. What should I wear? Is there a dress code?"

"You can wear what you like."

"My sparkly unicorn onesie?"

"Why not?" He'd actually love to see his colleagues' faces if Fen wore something like that. Though he wouldn't be allowed into court.

"You only said yes because you don't think I have one. I could buy one."

Ripley pulled Fen into his arms. He hadn't planned to kiss him quite so passionately but that's what he was doing and Fen wrapped his arms around him, clung tight and kissed him back. Why did kissing Fen make his world turn faster, make everything right again?

He was still struggling with having told Fen about Alejandro. He'd never talked about him to anyone.

Ripley found himself being pulled back to the house.

"Just let me put the enchiladas in the oven," Fen told him.

Then they were stumbling upstairs, Ripley trying to stop Fen falling as they shed their clothes on the way.

Fen worked magic with his mouth and tongue, made Ripley see stars, made him forget everything but this. And when they lay on their backs on the bed, breathing heavily, Fen's hand in his, there was nowhere else Ripley would have wanted to be.

The oven bleeped and they both groaned.

"They'll burn," Fen moaned. He put on his shorts and headed for the door.

"I'll see to them," Ripley told him. "Put something over your shorts or I'll forget dinner and eat you."

Fen smiled and came back to get dressed. Ripley pulled on his jeans, grabbed a T-shirt and headed downstairs. The way Fen's shorts moulded to his tight little arse tempted Ripley beyond belief. All of him was tempting: the curve of his back, the way his waist narrowed, the place at the back of his neck that made him moan when… Fuck it.

By the time Fen was downstairs, Ripley had taken the dish of enchiladas out of the oven, set the table and poured them both a glass of red wine.

"I love melted cheese," Fen said. "But it's bad for me. You serve up. Please give me one at the end because there's less cheese on it. You should have two. I'll watch you eat and drool."

"That sounds so attractive."

"If it puts you off, I'll eat what you leave."

One mouthful and Ripley knew he wouldn't be leaving any. There were three more in the dish if Fen wanted another.

"They're good, aren't they?" Fen said. "Mum bulks them out by adding lots of mushrooms. She's a good cook. I used to watch Bake Off with her and try to persuade her to apply but she wouldn't. Her mince pies are fabulous."

"You're definitely sorted over Christmas?" Ripley asked.

"I'll leave on Monday morning and see you on Boxing Day. Okay?"

Ripley nodded. He wished he could say don't go but he was going to do what he'd done last year and get mind-numbingly drunk and watch Netflix. "I need to go to my mother's at some point this week. The furniture that's being sold is due to be taken away on Thursday morning, the rest of their belongings in the afternoon. She and Petra will stay in a hotel for the night and the removals company will arrive at the rental property on Friday. What they don't yet need goes into storage. We can look at the books after Christmas."

"All right."

"I'm supposed to make sure they've not forgotten anything."

"Rings under skirting boards?"

"Good point."

"Have there been any offers for the house?"

"A couple but not high enough. It's not the best of times to put a house on the market. Things should pick up in January. I have a ski trip booked in February. Do you want to come?"

Fen paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. "Yes. Please. That would be… lovely. I'd bounce with excitement if I could. My passport's at the post office ready for collection."

"Good. It's a catered chalet for eleven—twelve of us with you. I'll make sure they know and sort out a plane ticket."

"Thank you."

Even though Fen couldn't ski, there were plenty of other things to do. Or he could read a book and enjoy the view. The chalet was one Ripley and his friends went to every year. Alejandro didn't like skiing and though Ripley had tried to persuade him to go for the apres-ski, he'd not succeeded.

"Will you give me a list of what I need to buy for surviving cold weather?" Fen asked. "Maybe I could have a go at skiing on one of those converted bikes. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be strong enough to use proper skis. I don't like to think of myself as disabled or differently-abled or completely crap when it comes to sports, so I'd like to try. I could toboggan too. Or use a snowmobile. Or throw a snowball. There's lots I can do." He beamed.

"Do you ever say no to anything?"

Ripley was half-joking, but Fen shrugged. "To be honest, I try not to. I like to do new things. It might be the only chance I get so unless I'm scared shitless or there's a really good reason why I should say no… I mean, I'm never going to eat a snake and I'm not going to piss on you. Well, not unless you were on fire. Then I would. Assuming you hadn't annoyed me."

Fen, where have you been all my life?

Ripley spent the evening sitting on the couch reading case notes for the trial he was partway through. Fen sat at the other end of the couch, his back against the arm, knees up, reading one of Ripley's Scandi thrillers. When Fen sucked in a breath, Ripley glanced at him.

"Exciting?"

Fen nodded. "I feel a bit guilty enjoying reading about violence while you're dealing with the real thing."

"I'm not dealing with cutting people up and making snow sculptures out of them."

"I haven't got to that bit yet."

Ripley raised his eyebrows. "It was on the first page."

"I bet you remember the plot of every single book. I sometimes get halfway through a story before I register I've read it before." Fen dropped his knees and slid his toes under Ripley's thighs. "My toes are cold. All that blubber will warm them up."

"Careful."

"Oops. I mean those strong muscular thighs will generously share their heat."

"Right."

"Do you need any help with the case?"

"What sort of help are you thinking of?"

"I could pretend to be the man or woman you're questioning?"

That wasn't going to work, but Ripley played along. "You're accused of embezzling a quarter of a million pounds from the company you work for."

"Wow, I'm rich!"

"Is that a confession?"

"I didn't do it. What does the company do?"

"Security firm."

Fen put his book down. "Off you go."

"Mr Waring. Would you like to explain what you did with the money from the Wave account?"

"No."

Ripley made himself look stern. "This is a court of law. You are obliged to answer or you'll be held in contempt."

"Can I plead the Fifth?"

"Not in England."

"I didn't do anything with it."

"Where is it then?"

"I'm sworn to secrecy."

"I need you to share that secret with the court."

"It was spent on wine, women and drugs. Obviously not by me. I'm happy with a cheap bottle from Tesco, not into women and only prescription drugs."

"Who then?"

"Fine. Cornelius did it. He fiddled the books as he drank vodka from the teacup in the conservatory while high on weed."

Ripley chuckled. He pushed to his feet and pulled Fen to his. "I can see this needs to be more thoroughly investigated. Upstairs to my interrogation room."

"Sorry. I interrupted you, didn't I? I don't want you to have to say in court, I had to go and shut up my cohabiting nuisance, because you might get asked how you did that and I'd blush and everyone would know—"

Ripley kissed him. The case could wait. He had better things to do.

Fen wasn't allowed to have his phone with him in court, so he gave it to Ripley to look after. Nor could he take in food, drink, writing materials or a whole load of other stuff. Clothes and shoes were about the only things that were deemed okay.

"Are you all right?" Ripley asked.

"Anxious. Do you think people are looking at me and wondering what I've done? I should have waited until I'd bought a unicorn onesie, then they'd know I couldn't have done anything."

"They wouldn't let you in wearing that."

"Now I'm sad."

"I'll meet you here at the entrance at lunchtime," Ripley said. "I'll be out as fast as I can. Same when the day ends. Try not to make me laugh if I catch your eye."

"Make sure you throw it back."

Ripley brushed Fen's fingers with his and disappeared into the building. Fen joined the public queue. No way would he try to make Ripley laugh, though Ripley was far too professional to allow it to happen.

Once Fen was inside the building, his crutch had to go on the conveyor belt to be scanned, along with his coat. Then he was allowed to make his way to Ripley's courtroom. The building itself was amazing with stained glass windows, a huge staircase, dome, murals… Maybe he could go on a tour sometime but today, he wanted to watch Ripley.

Fen was the first person into the public gallery and sat at the front in the left-hand corner. When other people came in, he wondered if they were connected to the case or visitors like him. They were so fidgety he thought they were probably friends or relatives, but on whose side? Maybe they were wondering about him.

On the way there in the car, Ripley had told him this wasn't a fraud case but murder. A young man was on trial for stabbing an older guy to death. Ripley was acting for the defence. Fen had never seen anyone holding a knife in the street but Ripley had told him there were over thirteen thousand stabbing incidents recorded in London last year. It was horrifying. Fen had sat quietly as Harry had driven them in and let Ripley get on with his work. Barristers had to retain a lot of information in their heads. Fen was pretty sure he'd fall at the first hurdle and forget everyone's names within moments.

Neither of them had mentioned Alejandro. It was still unfinished business for Ripley, and Fen sort of wanted to help him. Well, not finish it, because the guy would never be forgotten but Ripley needed to get on with his life. Fen would wait for the right opportunity, assuming it ever came up. He'd googled Alejandro yesterday and found his full name, details of his funeral, and burial in Brompton. He wondered if Ripley ever went to his grave, whether he planned to go on Christmas Eve.

When the courtroom began to fill, Fen concentrated on what was happening. It was a bit like a play with actors taking their positions on stage ready for the entry of the most important person, the judge. Ripley looked stern in his wig and gown, though still handsome. Intimidating too, though not to Fen. When Ripley spotted Fen in the public gallery, his mouth twitched and Fen risked a smile. The judge wore a wig too and a fancy red robe with fur. Wire glasses were perched on his nose and he looked ancient. The jury were a mixed bunch, old and young, some wore smart clothes and others were dressed more casually. No unicorn onesies. The only person Fen knew who'd been picked for jury duty was Scott, though he'd not been selected to be in a trial.

The defendant was sandwiched between prison officers. He was in his twenties and his face was pale. Fen would have been scared too. Ripley hadn't told him any details about the case so Fen had to pick it up as it went along. Sam, the defendant, had stabbed Gino, a man in his forties, in an alley in Brighton, and Gino had died.

Fen hadn't heard all the evidence so it wasn't fair to make a judgment but Ripley was trying to make it look like self-defence while the other side saw it as murder. Ripley had lost that intimidating air and seemed gentle now, persuasive and thoughtful. Everything seemed to be about behaviour and intent. Sam had been seen on CCTV coming towards the crime scene. Ripley pointed out he'd been relaxed and happy. Did that look like a young man setting out to kill someone? Sam was also seen running away in a panic after the incident. But Ripley had evidence Sam had approached the first person he came across and asked them to call the police because he had no phone.

By the time Fen was due to meet Ripley, he had no idea whether he was guilty or not. Ripley had been magnificent; composed, authoritative and honest. He methodically destroyed arguments and infused doubt, bent on getting the jury on his side. He was better at it than the other barrister, though Fen was biased.

Ripley came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. "Ready?"

"Starving."

Ripley took them to a small café where he was greeted by name when they walked in. They sat at a table at the back, and food and glasses of water appeared in front of them without them even ordering.

"How did you manage that?" Fen asked.

"They know what I like and I never have much time. I put the same order in for you and texted an ETA. Have you found it interesting?"

Fen nodded. "It's not only about the case details, is it? You're actors. How you present it all is as important as the facts."

Ripley smiled and bit into his sandwich.

"You probably have to change tactic to suit the occasion too," Fen went on. "I can see how difficult it is to be remote from what happened and still get the jury on your side to make them empathise with your client."

"Sam's parents and sister were sitting a little way along from you."

"His mum shredded a lot of tissues."

"What else did you notice?"

Fen thought as he chewed. "The juror with big ears rolled his eyes a few times when you were talking."

"Did he? Hmm."

"It's a pity there wasn't CCTV in the alley where it happened."

"True. I know you've not heard previous evidence but what do you think happened?"

"Sam stabbed him but he didn't set out to stab him," Fen whispered. "Maybe Gino propositioned him, got a bit pushy and Sam was scared. That's what you're going for right?"

Ripley nodded.

"So why did Sam carry a knife? If he was worried about trouble, why did the CCTV show him happy and unconcerned?"

"Because he hadn't thought trouble lay around the next corner."

"Then I'm back to why carry a knife? Had he been threatened in the past? Did he always carry one? Had he been warned someone was after him? Why didn't he have his phone? Who goes out without a phone?"

"Is him carrying the knife the part that most concerns you?"

"Well, he killed someone. He might not have meant to, but he did. Maybe he did mean to. Maybe he and Gino had been having a thing and Gino cheated on him. Maybe he cheated on Gino. Sam's going to get found guilty of something, isn't he? Maybe not murder but manslaughter if it's self-defence? Did Gino have a knife? Maybe not then but usually? Did you ask his friends? And what about his phone?"

Ripley frowned. "I need to get back. Stay and finish your lunch. I'll see you later this afternoon."

He landed a kiss on Fen's cheek before he slipped away. What did I say?

By the time the day's court business concluded, Fen had no idea if anything he'd said had resonated with Ripley. Maybe he'd just triggered a thought. There had been a lot of discussion about the stab wound. Just one, so maybe Gino and Sam had both been unlucky.

Fen was waiting along with several photographers when Ripley emerged. Fen had been wondering who they were hoping to photograph. Someone famous? As Ripley reached his side, they set off down the street only for a big guy to step into their path.

He shoved Ripley in the chest. "You fucking wanker!"

Ripley staggered back and knocked into Fen. As the attacker thrust out a fist, Ripley grabbed his wrist. It all happened so quickly, Fen didn't have chance to do anything, other than make sure he didn't fall. Policemen came running up and dragged the man back. Ripley stood in front of Fen as the attacker let loose a flood of Italian, spitting as he yelled. He was quickly restrained in handcuffs.

"Fen, make your way home. I need to sort this out. We're going out tonight so get ready, okay?"

Fen could see the policemen had the guy under control, so he did as Ripley told him. Fen didn't have his phone so couldn't call an Uber. He didn't want to waste money on a taxi, so he took the bus. Well, two buses. Without his phone, it had been a more complicated journey. By the time he opened the door, Ripley was already back.

"What happened to you?" Ripley sounded frantic.

"Nothing. Are you all right?"

"I had to give a statement to the police. That was Gino's brother."

"They'll put extra protection on now, won't they?"

"Yes, but I don't think he'll do anything else."

Fen stepped into his arms. "Think isn't good enough."

Ripley kissed his head. "What took you so long to get back? I was worried."

"You have my phone. I got the wrong bus and I had to walk between stops."

"Oh shit. I forgot. I'm sorry. It's in my bag."

"Where are we going tonight?"

"There's a…party at the house of Head of Chambers. Harry will take us and bring us back."

Fen was tired and would have preferred to stay in, but he put a smile on his face. "Did my unicorn onesie arrive?"

"No."

"Darn it. Oh well. The dinosaur one will have to do." He headed for the stairs.

Fen only had one shirt with a collar so he wore that with his best trousers. He was looking at himself in the mirror when Ripley came up behind him wearing a suit and tie.

"Oh God. I don't have a tie let alone a suit."

"It doesn't matter."

"It does."

"Do you want to wear a tie?"

"Will everyone else be wearing one?"

"Probably. It's not a dinosaur onesie sort of party."

Fen pouted. "Can you lend me one?"

"Yes."

"Can I choose from your collection of seven thousand and sixty-three ties?"

"Have they been multiplying?"

Fen went into Ripley's bedroom and picked out a thin grey one. "I can't tie it. I've never worn one before."

"My father taught me," Ripley said, then pressed his lips together.

"Hey, you can talk about your father. Because I don't talk about mine doesn't mean I don't want to hear about yours."

Ripley turned up Fen's collar, put the tie around his neck and stared into his eyes. "Bring the wide end around and behind the narrow end. Wide end up and through the hole between your collar and tie."

Fen licked his lips and Ripley faltered.

"Don't distract me. Bring the wide end around the front, over the narrow end from right to left."

Fen licked his upper lip as slowly as he could.

Ripley groaned. "Bring the wide end up back through the loop again. Squeeze the knot gently, pull down on the narrow end and slide the knot up. Got it?"

"No. That's your job now. Fastening my ties." Fen looked in the mirror, though at Ripley, not the tie. Ripley was…smouldering.

"You know what I want to do now?" Ripley whispered.

Fen shook his head.

"Tie you up with several of my ties and do bad things to you."

Fen shivered. "How bad?"

Ripley shook himself as if he'd suddenly realised what he'd said. "We don't have time. I want you to buy yourself some ties and shirts. And a warm coat."

Fen started to say he couldn't afford to, but he could. Ripley had put money in his account, but he had enough of his own. "Okay."

Ripley held Fen by the shoulders and let his gaze slowly drop over him. "You look…perfect."

"I wish I had a suit jacket."

Ripley took off his and threw it on the bed. "I won't wear mine. Feel better?"

Fen nodded. "Should I take my crutch?"

"We'll probably spend a lot of time standing."

"I'll take it then."

Once they were on their way to the home of Matthew Armstrong, Head of Old Square Chambers, and his wife Cressida who apparently was a doctor, Fen grew increasingly nervous.

"What does a Head of Chambers do? Not clean rooms I assume."

"We elect them to be in charge. They're usually a KC—King's Counsel, part of His Majesty's Counsel learned in the law. Matthew is. We'd say he took silk because KCs are entitled to wear black silk gowns in court instead of standard court dress."

"They don't run things at work?"

"Yes, but they're not office managers. Billy Edwards is our senior clerk and there are other clerks under him. The clerks are the ones who make sure everything runs smoothly."

"Why aren't you a KC?"

"I applied but it takes up to five years to be accepted or refused."

"Wow. So do I have to be careful what I say tonight?"

"Say whatever you want."

"Because you don't give a shit what they think? Or you think they'll take no notice anyway?"

Ripley squeezed his fingers. "Just be you. It doesn't matter to me whether they like you or not. I like you and that's all that matters. But if they're rude to you, they'll regret it."

Fen snuggled against him.

If he'd thought Ripley's place was lovely, the Armstrongs' house in Hampstead was spectacular. Fen's jaw dropped when Harry pulled up.

"Four floors, ten bedrooms, separate staff accommodation, underground pool and a private cinema," Ripley said. "Oh, and a tennis court."

"Did he win the National Lottery?"

"That would be so unjust. They're rich but it's family wealth from both sides." He turned to Harry. "Thanks, Harry. See you later."

"Did we not need to bring a bottle or something?" Fen asked as they made their way to the door.

"No." He glanced at Fen. "Don't be nervous. No one's going to eat you." He leaned in to talk into Fen's ear. "Only me when we get home."

"Now that's all I'm going to be able to think about."

"Good."

Fen wanted to say Just don't leave my side! but he didn't.