Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"The love life of designer, Josh Winterton, is like something out of a soap opera. Recently he was seen out and about with fading drag queen, Hugh Mottram. Now he's been photographed in the arms of his ex-husband."

Hugh put his phone down and stared at Josh.

"You know very well I wasn't in his arms. I left you to go and visit him."

They were in Josh's kitchen. The nice breakfast he had planned was going cold as another day of drama dawned.

Hugh rubbed the bridge of his nose. "'Fading drag queen'. Fucking brilliant."

"Winston will have fucked off back to France now. We can weather this storm, Hugh."

The wind was howling outside. It couldn't have been more appropriate.

"If you say so."

Josh leant forward and put his hand on Hugh's arm. "Hey. I do say so."

They'd both had a sleepless night. Hugh had been tossing and turning, which had kept Josh awake. Not that he cared.

"What are you doing today?" Josh asked.

"Rehearsing a show that no one wants to see. I don't know if we'll make it past the first few dates at this rate."

Josh sipped his coffee. "Is it that bad?"

Hugh shrugged. "Some theatres are only half full. No doubt the press will have a field day. What a fucking mess. Anyway, I'm sick of talking about me. Are you going to set the fashion world on fire again soon?"

The collection was pretty much ready. Suzanne and Josh had spent most of their time pulling together an informal showing of their work. They had secured Club C for this afternoon shindig. They didn't want a big catwalk or anything. Instead, they were booking ten models to wander around to give people the opportunity to see the garments close-up. Of course, there would be plenty of champagne and hors d'oeurves to make it worth everyone's while.

"Friday," Josh replied. "Any chance my favourite drag star will make an appearance."

Hugh smiled sadly. "I'll give RuPaul a call."

Josh got up and straddled Hugh, resting his arms around his neck. He kissed him on the forehead. "You are my favourite and always will be."

"Thank you," Hugh said. "For everything. I really mean that."

"No need. This is the best double act of your life, Hugh Mottram."

"We're nearly there, you know," Josh said.

He stood back from the gown he was working on. Most designers ended with a bridal dress of some description. Josh had always gone for red carpet attire instead. Maybe he'd been a frustrated drag queen designer all along.

"Is Hugh coming?" Suzanne asked.

"Of course he is," Josh snapped. "Why wouldn't he?"

That came across as way too defensive.

"Sorry," he added. "Bit tired."

Suzanne peered around the piece she wanted to find jewellery to match.

"It's all right. You've had a shit time lately," she said. "At least knobhead has gone quiet. Let's hope you'll only hear from him through his lawyer now."

It really had come to that. Josh had been plagued by that moment when he'd avoided Winston's kiss. For a split second, he'd wanted to. Right there in the middle of the hotel lobby. He supposed it must be like a form of muscle memory. Mere habit.

He carried on making the last-minute adjustments. The models had had their final fittings. Everything was on course.

"How much more do you have to do?" Suzanne asked.

"Couple of hours probably," he replied. "You?"

"Same. Shall I go and get us a bottle of wine?"

"Now you're talking."

He didn't usually drink on the job but these adjustments were minor. Besides, nerves for the collection were starting to take a hold.

"White, red or fizz?"

"Oh fizz I think. And maybe call into the Thai on the way?"

He gave her his best puppy-dog expression.

"How can I resist that face?" she asked, kissing his forehead. "What do you want?"

"Surprise me."

She grinned. "You've got it. Get plates and glasses ready. We'll have a break then take this motherfucker home."

With that, Suzanne bounded out of the studio. Josh flicked the lights to more of a glow than the bright work lights. As he got the things out of the cupboard, he hummed away to himself. The music for the little show had been chosen by him and Hugh. He realised it was dangerous to give Hugh access to everything in his life.

When has that ever stopped me?

Someone cleared their throat behind him. Josh spun round and almost dropped a glass.

"Fucking hell, Winston," he exclaimed. "You have to stop doing this. I'm sure it's against the law."

"I was waiting until your little friend had gone."

"Yeah well, she'll be back in no time so make whatever this is quick. She won't take too kindly to seeing you here. That's for sure."

Winston walked into the studio. "I can imagine the stories you've told her."

Josh still had hold of the glasses. He shoved them on the kitchen counter and turned to face Winston.

"Like I said, what do you want?"

"I wondered if you'd thought any more about what I said."

"Us getting back together? Yeah, I thought about it. No thanks."

Winston came forward and grabbed hold of his arms. "Do you want me to beg? Is that it?"

This time the close proximity to Winston had the opposite effect on Josh. All he had was revulsion for this user he'd wasted too many years on already.

He shrugged Winston's hands off him and staggered away.

He will never touch me again.

"I don't know why you're making this harder," Josh said. "Go to Nice, Winston. We'll come to an agreement and that will be that."

Before Winston replied, Josh heard movement downstairs.

"Babe. Are you there?"

Fuck. It's Hugh.

Things were bad enough without him finding Winston was still in London and paying Josh a visit. Quick as a flash, Josh pushed Winston into the toilet.

"Stay there. Don't make a sound. I mean it, Winston, or believe me, you won't get a penny more than you're owed."

He slammed the door shut in the nick of time as Hugh made it to the top of the stairs.

"Didn't you hear me?" Hugh asked.

"No. I was in the loo."

Josh crossed the room and flung his arms around Hugh. He hugged him tightly.

"Hey what's this?" Hugh said, "Not that I'm complaining."

"I needed to feel you."

Eventually, he extracted himself and walked Hugh over to the sofas.

"It's very cosy in here," Hugh said.

"Suzanne has gone out to get food and wine," Josh explained. "I've got another few hours of slaving away, I'm afraid."

Hugh perched on the arm of the sofa and nuzzled into Josh's body. He prayed Hugh wouldn't pick up on how fast his heart was hammering away.

"She beat me to it," he said, looking up at Josh. "I was going to offer to get you both whatever you needed."

Josh ran his hands through Hugh's curls. This man was perfection.

Then his blood ran cold when he heard the toilet door open. Hugh ducked his head around the side of Josh's body and his face went pale.

"What the fuck?"

Josh turned and to his horror a naked Winston stood in the doorway.

"You got dressed already?" Winston said. "Oh shit, sorry, Hugh. I didn't see you there."

With a force, Hugh shoved Josh away and leapt to his feet.

"I can't believe you'd do this," he stammered. "You're a lying fucking bastard."

The sheer pain on his face mainlined straight to Josh's heart. He wanted to scoop him up in his arms and never let him go. Instead, he remained absolutely rigid.

"I didn't do anything," Josh said. "Winston, tell him the truth."

Winston had wandered farther into the room.

"And get fucking dressed, Winston."

"No, Winston. You seem quite at home," Hugh said. "I'll leave you both to it."

"Hugh, please," Josh pleaded. "He's being a conniving shit. Nothing has happened."

Hugh was crossing the room now. He stopped and glanced down at Winston's crotch.

"Not bad," he sneered. "I hate to tell you that Josh will be settling. Maybe you can discuss it in bed."

"Hugh," Josh shouted.

It appeared he wasn't going to be stopped. With remarkable calm he walked to the stairs and straight down. Not once did he look back.

Winston had a smug expression on his face that Josh would quite happily wipe off with the back of his hand.

"Get out," he said through gritted teeth. "Whatever love I had for you is gone. I never want to see you again, you rotten piece of shit."

Winston shrugged. "It was only going to be until after the film came out anyway. The PR person thought it would look good if you were hanging off my arm in that annoying manner that you do."

No words that Winston could throw at him would hurt him anymore than the last few minutes had.

"Even if you showed up with Madeline Morrison, Nicole Kidman and Margot Robbie, no one would go and see your ego project."

Josh fired the words like bullets. Winston went pale. Josh had never spoken to him like that before.

"I'm taking my share of Cut," he returned.

"No you're not," Josh replied. "The small print says you have the shares or the cash equivalent. Sorry."

"You don't have those readies," Winston said with a scornful glare.

Josh took a deep breath. It was time to play his trump card and get this malignancy out of his life once and for all.

"I'm putting Queens Crescent on the market. So I repeat. Get dressed and get the fuck out of my life."

Winston stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

Josh pulled his phone out and dialled Hugh's number. He prayed to everything that Hugh would actually answer.

"Josh."

That has to be a good sign. Doesn't it?"

"Please come back. Winston is going as soon as he's put his clothes on."

He knew how bad that sounded and winced.

"I have no desire to see him again or you for that matter. I answered for one reason," Hugh said, coldly. "I'll be going to rehearse in Newcastle from tomorrow. Don't ring my doorbell tonight. I won't answer. I can't do this anymore. I'm going to focus on the tour. At least I have a chance with that."

The line went dead before Josh had even formed any words in response.

He had to hold it together. There was no way that Josh would give Winston the satisfaction of seeing how deeply he'd wounded him.

Then Suzanne appeared at the top of the stairs holding up two carrier bags.

"Food and wine. Yes, you can bow at my feet."

Her words petered out when she saw his face.

"What—"

With impeccable timing, Winston opened the bathroom door. Poor Suzanne dropped both bags.

"Oh, hello Suzanne," Winston said. "How lovely to see you again."

He turned to Josh. His eyes full of venom.

"I suppose I'll have to wait to call your bluff."

"Out."

Winston nodded and left the studio. The shaking began in Josh's feet. By the time it had taken over his whole body, Suzanne had him in her arms.

The night and most of the next day passed in a blur. Josh had wanted to go to Queens Crescent to at least try and talk Hugh round but Suzanne had gently advised against it. Instead, they had done their work, drunk the wine and bedded down on the sofas.

Josh had woken with a thick head. As the models arrived, everything took on a life of its own. It was a blessing.

When it got to lunchtime, Josh realised that Hugh had probably gone by now. As he checked his phone for the hundredth time, Suzanne squeezed his shoulder.

"Nothing is final," she said. "Let him work it through a bit before you try again. You owe him that much."

"I don't want him to think I'm not trying."

Suzanne smiled. "I'll be your character witness. If I get the chance, I'll confirm to Hugh that you're fully heartbroken. Now go and finish styling Bobbi."

He obeyed her. The remaining hours passed quickly. He even participated in the silly gossip coming from the models. It was refreshing although a dull ache never left his gut. Was Suzanne right? He yearned to speak to Hugh but he would give him the space she thought he needed.

Ever the protective friend, Suzanne had roped Madeline in. She'd come with an outfit for him to change into and was shooed out by Suzanne almost immediately. She wasn't risking him getting upset and losing the focus that was getting him through these hours.

He suspected Madeline had swept through his house and removed any used mugs and dishes. Wiping any trace of Hugh from the place.

He examined himself in the bathroom mirror. The same one a smug Winston would have egged himself on in. Madeline had chosen the white highwayman shirt he'd created for himself a few years ago. It had fitted his body perfectly and to his relief, still did. Paired with tight pinstripe trousers and black patent shoes, he looked pretty good.

I wish Hugh could see me.

He had to wipe this from his mind and go through this cold turkey. At least it gave him time to plan what he was going to say when he finally did speak to Hugh.

As usual, Club C had been decorated perfectly. The main colour of the collection was white so they had gone for a dark colour scheme. Aubergine and dark grey balloons covered most of the bar. The tables had black cloths and the staff were in the same aubergine tone as the balloons. The pieces would really shine.

The booths in the club were already taken and people were milling around on the dancefloor. The DJ played classical music. It would contrast brilliantly with the dance music they had for when the models came out.

His eye was caught by Mrs Wimpole making a beeline for him.

She can't possibly know already.

"Joshua," she said. "Is Hugh not with you?"

To his amazement, a tear rolled down his cheek.

"Oh my dear."

She ushered him away from the lights and to her booth where the Professor waited.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied. "Budge over and let him in."

The Professor made room for Josh. Mrs Wimpole had his other side. She reached over and took his hand.

"Now. What is this all about?"

Josh hiccupped and told them everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. When he'd finished, Mrs Wimpole looked gravely at him.

"You are in a pickle."

Those were her words of wisdom? The woman who had given a helping hand to most of his neighbours when they were struggling to find love. For Josh, she had nothing? That was typical of his luck.

Mrs Wimpole stared past Josh to the Professor on the other side of him. Josh snapped his head around in time to see the Professor nodding sagely.

"What? What is it?"

"This may be your lucky day," Mrs Wimpole said. "Report to my house at five o'clock tomorrow evening. All will become clear then."