Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

They spent the weekend at Josh's house. Hugh rarely got weekends off and he told Josh that he always made the most of it. Yet, he didn't feel like facing the world. The worry about the video hung over them like a spectre.

Josh had spent a ridiculous amount of time in the house over the recent weeks. It became a totally different affair when he had someone to share it with.

When Monday came around, Josh sent Hugh off to go to Michael's to speak to the bookers. Mercifully, the video hadn't been trending since the previous morning. For once, Hugh had said he was glad they weren't super big. He was going to throw himself at the mercy of the bookers and promise them that he didn't have any more skeletons in his closet.

Josh had cleaned things up in the house and gone into the studio. He needed a few hours of focusing on something other than social media nonsense. He had no doubt that Hugh and Michael would talk the bookers around. Even so, the fear from Hugh that someone was out to get him didn't leave Josh's mind.

Could it be true?

"It's all go with you at the moment, isn't it?" Suzanne said, cutting into his thoughts.

"Isn't it just?"

They were going over the new collection with a forensic eye. Josh wanted it to be absolutely perfect. A few magazines had already been in contact for interviews. It appeared that Josh coming out of seclusion was slightly newsworthy. He didn't really want to encourage it. Things were nerve-wracking enough. A soft launch would be fine.

"Are you finding the time to deal with your own shit?"

Josh nodded. "I spoke to the lawyer before I left the house. They're in touch with Winston's people and going to get hold of this list of his. I dread to bloody think what's on it."

Suzanne slammed her hand down, making all the pens in jars rattle. "He's a cheeky bastard," she said, reaching for another. "He's the one who abandoned you once the going got good. He doesn't deserve a brass farthing."

Josh smiled. "You have more in common with Madeline than you realise. That's her take on things."

"And you disagree?"

He hadn't really discussed his position with anyone. Not even Hugh and to his credit he didn't pry. It felt so inherently personal.

"Providing it isn't too ridiculous, I'm going to let him have whatever he wants," Josh said. "I can't face dragging this out any more than we have to. He's checked out of the marriage and to be honest, so have I. It's time to move forward."

"With Hugh?"

The million-dollar question.

"For now," he replied. "I'm not putting things under any pressure."

Suzanne nodded. "I think you're doing the right thing. It's so nice to see you positive about something. It's been a long time."

Hugh had definitely brought light into Josh's life again. He might be facing an emotional crisis but having Hugh in his life gave him the strength to stop it from taking over everything.

After they finished, he called into Hugh's on the way home. Even though they hadn't made plans, he wanted to see him and judging by the beam when Hugh opened the door, the feeling was mutual.

After a seriously sexy kiss on the doorstep, Hugh stood back.

"How did it go?" Josh asked.

Hugh sighed. He looked exhausted. Although Josh had probably had a large part to play in that.

"We calmed them down," Hugh replied. "Although ticket sales have stalled. Opening night in Newcastle is sold out, thank fuck. We're going to do some press in a week or so and then rely on reviews. It could be a shit ton worse."

Josh kissed him again. "I knew you could do it. Aren't you going to invite me in? I've been in these clothes all day. I could do with getting out of them."

"Calm down, tiger. I have a visitor."

Josh frowned. "Who?"

"Come and find out."

Hugh led him down the hallway and into the kitchen.

"Joshua!"

Mrs Wimpole sat at the kitchen table. They had the laptop open and from what Josh could see, they were trawling through online fashion stores.

"This looks like trouble."

Josh bent and kissed Mrs Wimpole's proffered cheek.

"We're still stuck," Hugh said, sitting next to his muse. "We've been at it for two hours and can't find the perfect suit."

"In fact," Mrs Wimpole said. "I don't think we're going to. I've got a better solution."

"I'm all ears because if I don't make some progress, I think Michael is going to professionally divorce me. After everything else that's happened, I really don't need that."

Mrs Wimpole frowned. "A little attack on a late-night chat show isn't that bad, surely?"

"It's worse than that," Hugh replied. "Someone has posted a video of me. I…well I got into a brawl with my stepfather at his wedding to my mother."

Mrs Wimpole stared hard at him. "And what does she think of this?"

"I haven't spoken to her. I don't want to make any more trouble. She's been wonderful to me and now it's her turn for happiness. Even if he's the devil incarnate."

"That is a very brave and mature response, Hugh. So the stakes are raised somewhat. Now we really do have to make this work," she said. "This calls for drastic measures. Don't you worry. I have an idea. Are both your passports up to date?"

The narrow streets of the Quadrilatero della moda were packed as Mrs Wimpole, Josh, Hugh and the Professor wandered around. Every store was a name. Gucci. Vuitton. Scappino.

"I have to hand it to you, Mrs Wimpole. A day trip to Milan to get a suit is about as extra as it comes," Hugh said.

Mrs Wimpole linked his arm. "The world is smaller than you think, Hugh. Now up here is a wonderful little shop that I've been coming to for decades. Signora Rossi is a magician. When I first discovered this shop, it was her mother who ran things but she passed on years ago."

"Will she not be worried about creating something for a man?" Hugh asked.

"When you see her prices, you will realise she'd create for a dog if it paid well."

Hugh stopped. "I can't afford this. We're on a tight budget and I'll need more than one suit if they're going to survive a tour."

Josh rested his hand in the small of Hugh's back to ground him.

"Relax," Mrs Wimpole replied. "This is my treat. Besides, once we've got one suit, I'm sure Joshua here can create something similar."

"I don't want that," Hugh said. "I refuse to be someone who takes from Josh. He's had enough."

Mrs Wimpole glanced at Josh. To his astonishment there was a tear in her eye.

"You're not wrong there, my dear," she said. "Sometimes we all have to ask for help. It's not bad if you return the favour."

Josh snuggled into Hugh's side. "And you've already done that, so less of this nonsense."

Mrs Wimpole clapped her hands together. "Then let us go. While we're here, there's a wonderful material shop across town. We'll get the perfect tweed for your friend's outfit."

Josh loved it when Mrs Wimpole was on a mission. He wondered why she'd never got into politics. She would have solved the world's problems on day one and still had time for high tea.

"Tweed?" the Professor said. "Now I see why I was invited along."

"Of course," Mrs Wimpole replied. "It wouldn't be right if you didn't choose your favourite."

"Are you okay with this, Professor?" Josh asked.

The Professor's face lit up. "I certainly am. Just wait until I tell my son. He'll think this is hilarious. It's never a dull moment, is it?"

They resumed walking.

"Your son?" Josh asked. "I haven't seen him in a while."

"Paul is in South Korea at the moment on assignment."

"What does he do?" Hugh asked.

The Professor puffed his chest up proudly. "He's a photojournalist. He's won awards, you know."

"How wonderful," Hugh replied.

Josh took his hand. The pain on Hugh's face when the Professor seemed so happy to talk about his son hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Here we are," Mrs Wimpole said. "Now let me do all the talking. I know what you need. And I know her tricks for bumping the price up. Not if I've anything to do with it."

Mrs Wimpole adjusted her coat and marched inside.

Hugh and Josh glanced at each other.

"So into the breach," the Professor said from behind.

"Indeed," Josh replied.

They all took a breath before following Mrs Wimpole inside.

The Duomo di Milano was lit up. For once, the November sky was cloudless so the pitch-dark provided the perfect backdrop.

"It's stunning," Hugh said, staring up at the gothic structure. "What a great idea to stay the night."

He held a large carrier bag that held the precious suit Mrs Wimpole had picked out. Luckily, they had also spotted a perfect one for Michael too. Even the Professor had approved. Of course, they would both need altering. After a long discussion with Signora Rossi, Josh was confident that he could make them look incredible.

Once they had completed their mission and packed Mrs Wimpole and the Professor off to the airport, Josh had insisted that they get a hotel for the night. He wanted to spend time with Hugh without the baggage of home.

He'd treated him to a fabulous meal in a little-known restaurant that Josh had discovered when he'd spent six months in the city after qualifying. He was amazed to see that it was still there. Sometimes comfort lay in the consistent.

"Fancy a nightcap?" Josh asked.

"I'd love it but you have to let me pay for it. I'm not that skint, you know."

Josh took his hand and squeezed it. "I know that. I'm not trying to be flashy. I promise. I have the cash and I wanted to do something nice."

"And it's received in the spirit it's given," Hugh said. "But I'm buying the drinks."

"Fine."

They returned to the hotel after having more than one nightcap. In fact, Josh was pretty tipsy. As was Hugh. He kept stopping and admiring himself in the mirror.

"I'm Mrs Harlton, you know. Henrietta Harlton."

The voice that he'd come up with was perfect.

"Harlton? How come?" Josh asked.

"It's the neighbouring village to Wimpole," Hugh explained. "The home of Mrs Henrietta Harlton and Professor Gwendolyn Huffam."

Josh frowned. "And where did that name come from?"

"Huffam was Dickens' middle name. This shit doesn't happen by accident, you know."

Whenever Hugh talked about his work, he became so animated Josh struggled to not to declare his love. That would be the worst possible timing. Things were way too up in the air to get heavy.

They got into their room. Josh had every intention of showing Hugh with actions how much he cared for him. Sometimes words were not needed.

Hugh's phone bleeped. He glanced at it.

"Bloody Michael wants me to call him. Do you mind?"

"Of course not. As long as he's not going to have a go at you again. I might have to step in this time."

Hugh pinched Josh's butt. "My hero."

As he connected the call, he wandered into the bathroom that contained a massive bath. Josh had every intention of both of them getting into it in the not-too-distant future. Josh threw off his jacket and stood by the window. The view over Milan was breathtaking, even at night. All the little lights were twinkling. Rooms where lots of dramas and happiness played out. It put their problems into perspective a little.

Optimism ran through Josh's veins. After years of walking on eggshells to make sure that Winston was happy, it came as such a joy to be with someone who took control of their own life and didn't see Josh as a threat.

Thinking of Winston, he considered the list. The lawyer had told him that they would have it within days. Josh had started to waver on giving Winston everything he wanted. Of course, Winston was fully aware that any threat to Josh of losing Queens Crescent was his trump card. As Josh saw Hugh making brave decisions, he wondered if he should finally stand up to his soon to be ex-husband.

"Shit."

Hugh looked pale as he walked into the bedroom.

"What now?"

"We've been outed."

Anxiety gripped Josh. "What do you mean?"

Hugh handed him his phone. It was open on the website for a low-level scandal site. One of the ones that usually covered reality TV stars or social media loudmouths. The headline said Troubled designer and viral drag star .

The picture was them walking in the streets of Milan with Mrs Wimpole and the Professor, although it gave the impression Josh and Hugh were alone.

"Someone took our picture? Who?"

Hugh shook his head. "Surely not a paparazzi. I mean, they're not going to get enough money to make it worth their while."

The idea that they had been followed to Italy sent chills through Josh's body.

"What are we going to do?"

"There's nothing we can do," Hugh replied. "The world knows about us."

Winston would go crazy if he saw this.

"Can't we get them to take it down?"

"Josh, we were walking hand in hand. I think we're bang to rights. Maybe it's for the best."

"For the best?" Josh wailed. "I've got an impending divorce and a new collection."

Anger flashed across Hugh's face. "And being seen with me is so terrible, is it? Wow."

"That's not what I meant and you know it. It's just…"

"Just what?"

"You've said it yourself. You're going through a rough patch at the moment."

Hugh nodded. "And you don't want me dragging you down to my level. Is that it?"

All his words were coming out wrong. He probably needed to stop talking altogether. Unfortunately, Hugh appeared to require a reply.

"You're putting words into my mouth," Josh managed. "I would rather be able to help you from the sidelines instead of getting caught up in it all. Is that so difficult to understand?"

"Don't worry. I'm capable of handling whatever they throw at me," Hugh replied. "I'll think about it in the bath. Alone."

He went into the bathroom and slammed the door. Josh sank down onto the bed. Everything had started out so perfectly.

Who the fuck had taken those photos? And why was Josh so worried? He should be proud to be with someone like Hugh.

If he stood by him, it might strengthen Hugh's public image. It was too late now. Any action from him like that would come across as lip service now.

He lay back and stared at the ceiling.

If the mystery photographer's aim had been to cause a row, they had accomplished their mission.

Why is everything so fucking difficult?