27

27

Fen was happy. He thought Ripley was happy too. He was smiling a lot anyway. That night, they sat on the couch and watched a Christmas film while they ate pizza and drank red wine. Fen wasn't sure he agreed Die Hard was a Christmas film but if Ripley thought so, and wanted to watch it, then that was fine. And the scary bits did mean Fen found himself yipping and trying to hide behind Ripley, which made Ripley laugh, then cuddle him.

There'd been another call from his mum to check he was okay and Fen felt he'd finally managed to convince her he was. How could he not be? He was next to Ripley in a warm room, with a Christmas tree twinkling next to the window, plus Die Hard had finally finished and he could breathe again. He'd eaten too much pizza and drunk too much wine but it was Christmas, a time when rules could be broken. Maybe a time when magic might happen.

Fen wasn't sure how he was going to get Ripley's presents under the tree without him noticing. Maybe he'd have to get up in the middle of the night. He was a little worried about making Ripley embarrassed because he probably didn't have anything to give him unless those parcels he'd collected from the lockers outside Waitrose held presents. But Fen didn't need anything more than he already had.

He was touched when Ripley left out a bowl of oats for the reindeer, along with a mince pie and a brandy for Santa. They were long past the age of doing that and yet Fen loved that Ripley had suggested it.

"It's what my father did," Ripley said quietly. "My mother went to bed and left us to it. I did wonder if she'd ever meant to have children, given the interest she showed in me. He was the one who read to me. I used to try and stay awake so he'd read a story when he came back from work."

"That's sweet."

"When I panicked because I had to wear formal shoes for school, he was the one who taught me how to tie laces."

"Do you think he'd have minded that you were gay?"

Ripley hesitated. "I think he'd have worried for me. I want to think he'd have been okay about it and still loved me. I wish he'd been around in my teens. I think I could have talked to him. Unlike my mother. He always had a balanced view about things. At least, that's what I remember."

"Was he patient?"

"Endlessly. I used to think he knew everything. He told me things his own father had taught him. Like how to check whether an electric fence was live using the back of your hand, because if you use your palm, and you get a shock, you might grip the wire. Always approach a horse from his left and from the front. How to whistle with a blade of grass. Never put your hand into a hole you can't see into."

Fen smiled. It was hard to imagine Ripley as a child. "When I left home to live on my own, my mum's advice was never do anything I wouldn't want to explain to paramedics."

Ripley almost spat out the wine he'd tipped into his mouth. "Have you ever not followed that advice?"

"I might have. I mean it's not what you think before you do something, is it? Is this going to result in me calling 9-9-9 and having to come up with some acceptable reason for me having my cock stuck in a bottle of milk?"

"I think we better take this conversation upstairs."

Ripley followed Fen up.

"I've never actually stuck my cock in a bottle of milk," Fen said.

"Good because I was going to ask if you used it in someone's tea afterwards."

"Ugh. What's the weirdest thing you've stuck your cock in?"

"How old are you?"

"Well, not that you've done recently obviously."

"I've never stuck my cock in anything weird. Have you?"

"Depends what you call weird."

Ripley took off his shirt. "Try me."

"My mouth. I was a very flexible ballet dancer."

Ripley stared at him. "You're still flexible."

Fen grinned. "Yes I am."

"You're turning me on big time now."

Fen went into the bathroom and started to clean his teeth.

Ripley followed. "How old were you when you lost your virginity?"

"Eighteen."

It had been his eighteenth birthday and he remembered every second of the encounter. Ripley cleaned his teeth at Fen's side.

"What about you?" Fen asked.

"Fourteen."

Fen shot him a glance. "Wow. That's very young."

"I regretted it immediately. I wish I'd waited. I was in the cricket pavilion tidying up the equipment on the instruction of a prefect. Giles Donohue. He's an MP now. Married with kids. He came in to check I'd made a good job. I had a crush on him and he knew it. He was seventeen. He locked the door. Messing around led to more messing around and… He'd come prepared. I should be thankful for that. But I never let him touch me again. I hadn't told him no but he took advantage."

Ripley washed his face.

"I was in a club." Fen leaned against the towel rail. "I was supposed to be over 21, but me, Morgan and Seth got in with IDs Seth had borrowed from his brother and two of his brother's friends. I did wonder if the guy who let us in realised, but didn't care. Three twinks? Clearly out of their depth? The first time in a gay club for any of us and we deliberately picked leather night. And thought we'd dressed for it. We were idiots. I was so green, I even had my harness on backwards and thought I'd get away with it."

He thought Ripley would laugh but he didn't.

"Anyway, I'd been dancing with this older man. We… We… I know it sounds cheap and cliché, my first time in the gents of a gay club, but I really wanted it. I shouldn't have but… Anyway, it was good, though it did hurt a bit, but the guy was careful. He didn't realise it was my first time. He probably thought I just had a nice tight arse."

Fen looked across at Ripley who wasn't moving or blinking. Was Ripley judging him? "I don't regret it."

Well, maybe it hadn't been the best location but there was no point in regrets.

"Which club?" Ripley's voice sounded flat.

"Veil. Down Soho."

Ripley sucked in a breath and disappeared into the bedroom. What was that about? Fen followed, stripping off as he went. Ripley was lying on his back on the bed, his feet on the floor, his arm over his face. Fen crawled up next to him.

"Shouldn't I have told you?" Fen whispered.

"Depends on whether you were wearing a black studded mask with ears and had electric blue hair."

Fen sat back. "What?" What the fuck?

Ripley moved his arm from his eyes. "What do you think?"

"Oh. Oh shit. But I mean… No way… The chances…" Ripley was wrong. There was no way he—

"I drew on your neck. Gave you a collar to protect you."

Oh fuck.

"And when you went outside and met your friends, I stepped in to stop you being manhandled by a drunk."

"Yes." Fen's voice was a whisper. "I can't… It was you?"

"It was me."

"Oh my God."

Ripley sat up. "You should have told me."

"I've only just found out too!"

Ripley frowned. "I mean that it was your first time."

"You wouldn't have touched me. I went there wanting it to happen. I chose you. I wanted you."

"I remember."

"Now I think…fuck… Now I think I made a good choice."

Ripley brushed the back of his hand over Fen's cheek. Am I crying?

"Have you not thought that for the last six years?" Ripley asked.

"I wished I'd seen your face."

"And I wished I'd seen yours. That must be why I thought you were familiar."

Fen chewed his lip. "You remembered me."

Ripley smiled. "I remember everything. That black mask with those pointed ears, amazing blue hair, the leather harness you had on backwards…"

"I did. It was uncomfortable the right way round. I thought no one would notice."

"Black leather-effect trousers, well sort of leggings, weren't they. Ah and Doc Martens."

"You wore a fuller face mask and a shirt/collar chest harness so your shoulders were covered. You had muscles."

"I still have muscles!"

Fen laughed and ran his finger down Ripley's chest. "Yeah, you do. And they're lovely."

"Now show me how flexible you are."

So Fen did.

Ripley set the alarm on his phone to vibrate at 6.00 and stuck it under his pillow so he didn't wake Fen. When he went downstairs, he saw the pile of presents under the tree, realised Fen had beaten him to it, and breathed a sigh of relief he'd bought things to wrap for him.

He was still reeling from finding out it had been Fen in the club. Ripley had often thought about the encounter. He'd even gone back to the club a few times but they only had leather night once a month. Now fate had brought them back together. Not that he believed in fate, but…

Fen yelped as Ripley climbed into bed beside him. "Santa! Your feet are cold."

Ripley stuck a foot between Fen's calves. "Warm them up, elf."

Fen yanked his toes free.

"Show me how flexible you are again, I've forgotten," Ripley said.

When he and Fen finally made it downstairs, Fen slipped his hand in Ripley's as they went into the living room.

"Doesn't matter that we're too old for this, does it?" Fen whispered.

"Can you ever be too old?" Ripley felt a moment's sadness that as a grieving child, he'd lost the magic of Christmas too soon. But maybe it had been waiting for the right time to reappear. He glanced at Fen and swallowed hard.

"I don't want you to get too excited about your presents," Fen said. "No Rolex or helicopter flight or new wig or a tie or anything like that."

Ripley hugged him from behind. "You think that's what I want?"

"I have no idea. You open one first."

"Let me get us a drink. Would you like a Mimosa?"

"Why not?"

Fen sat on a cushion on the floor next to the tree. Ripley brought the drinks over and handed one to Fen.

"Merry Christmas," Fen said.

"Merry Christmas." Ripley touched his glass to Fen's.

"You go first," Fen said. "Before you open anything, I need to tell you something. I probably shouldn't have looked at what I looked at, but I did. So don't be mad."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You will soon."

Ripley unwrapped space Lego: the Mandalorian's ship, a lunar research city and the Apollo landing. He'd not played with Lego since… Then he got it. He'd asked for this for Christmas and not got it. He'd written to Santa to ask why. Oh Fen.

"Do you like it?" Fen asked. "I wasn't sure what to buy. The kits have long changed since you were a little boy but…"

"I love it. Thank you. The right Santa finally read my letter."

Fen grinned and opened one of his. It was a kintsugi repair kit and a broken plate. "Did you break the plate?"

"I might have."

Ripley loved watching Fen open the things he'd bought. His joy and excitement were infectious.

"Monkey swizzle sticks!" Fen hugged him. "Did you have to search high and low?"

"Ten pages of them on Amazon."

Fen laughed. "Oh these are lovely." He held up a set of noodle bowls decorated with whales and waves."

"You might notice a Japanese theme."

Fen turned over one of the bowls. "Made in China."

"What?"

"I'm kidding."

Ripley only vaguely remembered wanting a robot, though Fen had found him an antique one with flashing lights. He did remember being desperate for a marble run, which he and Fen set up.

"It's more complicated than I thought it would be," Fen said. "And they're not marbles, they're metal balls. You can get one million add on kits, apparently."

"Is that all?"

"If anyone visits who has kids, at least there'll be something to amuse them."

"I'm not letting anyone play with this. It's taken us thirty minutes to put together."

Fen handed him the metal ball. "See if it works."

The ball raced around the track, knocked into other balls, bounced on a trampoline and finally reached the end. They high-fived.

"Brilliant," Ripley said.

"Now this." Fen handed him two small parcels.

In the first was a little wooden hare.

"It's netsuke. It might be really valuable. I found it at the fayre we went to. It can go next to the kintsugi globe—oh and the plate once I've mended it."

"It's lovely. It feels so smooth. Thank you." He put the hare down and opened the last parcel. Ripley almost choked when he saw the T-shirt. It said World's Okayist Barrister.

"There's a print shop on the high street. I wasn't sure how to spell okayist and neither were they."

"It's great."Except it was okayest. But that was fine.

Everything was great. Fen wore the unicorn onesie Ripley had bought him and turned the tin of croissants into little dogs, which did taste delicious. Ripley didn't remember until it was almost lunchtime, when Fen had a call from his mum, that he hadn't spoken to his own mother. While Fen was chatting to his, Ripley made the call.

"Hello?"

She had to know it was him, but Ripley still said, "It's me. Happy Christmas. How are things?" He steeled himself.

But it wasn't the litany of complaints he'd expected. She had a moan but seemed delighted to be able to see the sea from the lounge and the bedroom window of the rental flat. Petra was cooking Christmas dinner and they were going to watch It's a Wonderful Life after they'd eaten. Ripley didn't try to cut her short, but let her talk as long as she wanted to and thought, after he put the phone down, it had been the easiest conversation he'd had with her for years. Or had Fen made him more tolerant?

Why was he wondering? Fen had made him more tolerant.

It was the best Christmas Day he'd ever had.

Fen wanted to pinch himself. He was so happy, it scared him. Ripley was happy too. Fen wasn't imagining that. Except it was hard to rid himself of the notion that something was going to go wrong because in his experience, it always did. Too much happiness was dangerous. So was having money paid into his bank account. But it was only temporary.

As the week progressed, they settled into a routine that suited them both and Fen began to hope maybe this was it, despite how it started, despite Ripley's intention, the ending wasn't already written. Yet even Fen's throat-filling hope floundered when he reminded himself when you wanted something too much, it was easy to convince yourself it would happen, that Ripley would want him to stay.

Except Fen's ending was written. His BMD wasn't going away. It would get worse and he had to deal with that. Not Ripley. Ripley wanting him to stay was a bad thing.

No, it isn't.

Yes, it is.

Fen told himself off. He was sliding into anxiety he didn't need. Ripley knew what BMD would lead to. He wasn't the sort to push Fen aside because of that. They were okay for now and maybe that okay for now might last forever. Did that mean it was love? Fen didn't know but what he did know was Ripley's kindness made him feel happy. Content in a way he'd not felt for a long time.

When he woke on Friday morning, the last weekday of time off work, it was to a sound he didn't recognise. This was a quietish street and Fen could hear the sounds of people talking, shouting, engines revving. Had something happened?

The doorbell rang.

Ripley lay fast asleep beside him. Fen slid out of bed and limped over to the window. He peeped from behind the curtain and gulped. There were people on the pavement below and across the street, many of them holding cameras. What was going on? He went back to the bed and turned on his phone. It beeped with message after message, then rang in his hand and he almost dropped it.

"Hello?" Fen said.

Ripley stirred and blinked at him.

"Fen Wood? Or should I say, Miller? This is Jerry Clark. I work for the Daily Times. Can we have a quick chat?"

Why? Fen had meant to say the word but it didn't come out of his mouth. How had this guy got his number?

"We'd love to do a feature about you and your dad. Hear your side of the story. Take some pictures. We're outside the door. What do you say?"

The doorbell rang again.

"No," Fen managed to force out.

"Have you read what Today is saying? The story's out but you have a chance to tell your side. When's convenient?"

Fen ended the call and with shaking fingers, even as another call came through, powered down his phone.

"Who's at the bloody door?" Ripley groaned.

"Turn off the doorbell."

When the sound stopped, Fen took a deep breath. He looked up to see Ripley heading for the window. "Don't!"

"What's wrong?"

Ripley's phone rang and he went back to get it.

"Only answer if it's someone you know," Fen said.

"It's your mother."

"On your phone?"

"Have you turned yours off?"

"Yes. Put it on speaker."

"Hello," Ripley said.

"Ripley, it's Daisy. Alistair's with me. Is Fen there?"

"Yes, he's listening."

"Fen, I'm so sorry." His mum was crying.

"What's happened?" Ripley asked.

"Scott," Alistair snapped. "The little bastard took your mother's box."

"What box?" But Fen thought he could guess.

"It had things in it about your father. The DNA test she had done. Letters to him that were returned to her. Cuttings about him. Pictures."

"We had a call this morning," his mum said. "I'm sorry, Fen. We'll come home."

"No," Ripley said. "You're better off staying where you are. Don't talk to anyone about this. Don't be fooled into thinking someone is your friend. They won't be."

"But we've seen the article in Today," she sobbed. "They've printed lies."

"Even so, not saying anything is the way to go." Ripley glanced out the side of the curtain. "Dignified silence. Don't talk to the press. Stay put. Got it? I'll deal with this."

"Let us know if we can do anything," Alistair said.

"Fine. Bye." Ripley ended the call and went back to the bed to a frozen Fen. "Fen? Fen! Listen to me. We need to know what's being said."

Ripley pulled the covers over them. Fen was trembling, but not because he was cold.

It was bad. The headline was Jack's Other Son. There was a picture of Fen taken by Scott at a BBQ at his parents' house. Fen had fallen over and the plate of food he'd been carrying had spilled on his shirt and trousers. The crutch wasn't in the shot. Fen remembered Scott laughing. He'd not even helped Fen up. By the time his mum had come outside, Fen was on his feet. He looked drunk in the picture though he hadn't been. But the paper had been quick to suggest he was.

Fen struggled to take in the words. Family celebration…habit of drinking too much…sacked for theft…obsessed by his father…all he could talk about…money… The words swam in front of Fen's eyes. He wasn't the only one under attack. His mum had been called out too. Desperate fan who'd do anything to get her film star crush… One-off encounter in a club toilet… Fen moaned when he read that. It wasn't what his mum had told him.

The paper went on to talk about Jack Miller. Jack is happily married to his wife Charlotte. They live with their three children Judd, Alexa and Helena. Jack confesses to being a wild boy in his youth but Charlotte is the only woman he's ever loved. There were pictures of his father and his family, all loved up, looking tanned, happy and rich.

"How the fuck do the press know you're here?"

Fen thought about it. "Alistair and my mum drove here in one of the company vehicles. He'd have put the address into the satnav. Scott could have found it."

"Shit," Ripley hissed.

"You're not allowed to say shit. You have to say Don't worry. Everything's going to be fine."

When Ripley opened his mouth, Fen put his finger over his lips. "Don't. It's all right. I know it won't be fine."

Ripley kissed his finger and moved it away. "We don't feed the bears."

Fen liked that he said we but Ripley needed to stay out of this. Only how, he had no idea.

"It'll blow over," Ripley said.

Fen couldn't let himself believe it would. He burrowed into Ripley. He didn't want Scott to get away with lying about him, but he knew if he said anything, he might make the situation worse. He felt Ripley's arms wrap around him, muttering softly and stress took Fen into darkness.

When he woke, Ripley was still beside him, working on his laptop.

"Did I imagine all that?" Fen whispered.

"Sadly not."

"Oh shit."

"They've been banging on the door most of the day, shoving notes through the letterbox. Offering you increasing amounts of money."

"Money?" Fen groaned. "Why is this even news?"

"Because there isn't any other news and Jack Miller is a media darling. He could do no wrong, until now. I think we can expect more articles."

"What else is there left to say?"

"The press will find something. They usually do."

"I'm sorry," Fen blurted.

"What do you have to be sorry about?"

"Dragging you into this."

Ripley set his laptop aside. "You've dragged me into nothing. I'm glad you told me who your father was. You trusted me and now you have to trust me again. I've been in touch with Miller's publicist. She wants to talk to you."

"Not my father?"

"No."

Of course he doesn't want to speak to me. Why would he? I was stupid to think he might.

"Let's do it now," Fen mumbled.

"You awake enough?"

Fen nodded. Ripley made the call and put the phone on speaker.

"Mr Belmont," a woman said.

"Ms Curtis."

"Please call me Bella."

Ripley shook his head at Fen and mouthed not a friend. "Ms Curtis, you're on speaker. I have Fen Wood with me."

"Fen! Fen! You poor thing."

Fen was immediately irritated.

"I'm Jack's publicist. And we're going to sort out this mess. You're not to worry."

Fen couldn't help but wonder if the we meant Bella and her team or Bella and Jack. Or even Bella and him. He wanted to ask what his father thought about it but then again, if he'd believed those lies…

"What the paper said… It isn't the truth," Fen said. "Now it's on the internet for ever and ever. And it's lies."

She laughed. "The press never let the truth get in the way of a good story."

Don't laugh, you bitch!

"I'd like you to come in tomorrow and speak to our lawyers. Needless to say, don't talk to the press. Not a word. Ten o'clock. See you then."

She ended the call and Fen sucked in his cheeks. "I feel like I've been run over by a truck. Should I even go?"

"It's a good idea to present a united front. Your father won't be happy about this either so… Maybe a joint statement will get rid of the rabble outside."

"A statement saying he's ignored the fact that I'm his son for the whole of my life? What spin could he possibly put on that?"

"He didn't know? Your mother made him promise not to contact you? She lied to you?"

Fen shuddered. "Will you come with me?"

"Of course I will."

Fen allowed himself a little hope.

It didn't last long.

Ripley had told him to stay offline, but the temptation was too strong. His half-sisters were all over Instagram and TikTok. He curled up in a tighter ball on the couch.

"They don't even know me," Fen muttered.

"They're looking for attention."

"Scott stole that stuff from my mum. How can he get away with doing that?"

"I'm not saying it's irrelevant, but the information is out there now."

"Has Christian called you?"

Ripley didn't answer straight away and when Fen looked up at him, he nodded.

"What did he have to say?"

"I should have told him. I pointed out I had no idea who Judd was."

Fen groaned.

Ripley dropped down beside him. "I also told him you didn't talk about your father, you hadn't even told me who he was until after you'd met Judd. Judd's upset you didn't tell him. He'll be at the meeting tomorrow."

Fen's heart fluttered. Would his father be there too?

The day passed slowly. Fen didn't think it was his imagination Ripley was quieter than usual. When Fen announced he was going to bed, Ripley didn't come with him. Fen understood. This wasn't the sort of publicity anyone would want, let alone someone in Ripley's position.

He lay in bed, his head under the covers, reading lies. A tweet from someone who said he'd been at ballet school with him, claiming Fen had snorted coke. Someone else saying Fen had been dismissed from ballet school because he wasn't good enough. A girl from his geography class telling more lies. The bitch. There were no truths and it hurt.

Fen stumbled to the bathroom, threw up the little he'd eaten and kept throwing up until his ribs ached. I need Ripley! Fen crept downstairs and when he heard Ripley talking, he stopped moving. Was someone there?

"Have you finished?" Ripley snapped. "Well, I think you've said enough, Matthew… No…"

Ripley's boss. The Head of Chambers. Fen guessed this was about him.

"Are you threatening me?" Ripley asked. "Well, that's what it sounds like to me… No, I will not… I don't care… Believe what you like… I've done nothing wrong… No, Fen is not a mistake… Frankly, Matthew, I don't give a shit."

Fen crept back upstairs and slipped into bed. Mud sticks and mud will stick to Ripley too. Fen guessed this had something to do with Ripley getting silk. Whether it was or not, Fen was fucking up Ripley's life. He was happy Ripley was sticking up for him, but Fen had to be the one to make sure this turned out right for Ripley. Much as he might not want to accept it, this was the beginning of the end for them both.