Petey
The Saturday morning of the village fair, I woke early to my phone beeping with messages. I was so unused to having Wi-Fi in the folly that it was completely disorienting. When I opened my eyes to find William gone—rather than wrapped around me, as I’d expected—it felt worryingly like the start of a zombie film. He’d been weird all day yesterday. He’d said he was stressed about the village fair, so I’d let it rest. But now he’d left without saying goodbye? I reached for my phone to see a string of messages from Sunny.
Sunny:Holy shit, I’m so sorry.
The next message was the cover of the morning’sBulletin, with the headline “BISEXUAL BARON BROKE.”
Sunny:There are FOUR pages inside. Hang on.
The snapshots of the newspaper kept coming, filling up my screen. I scrolled through, unable to focus on more than scattered words: “Bisexual baron finds love, but could lose home,” “five centuries of history go under the hammer,” “fiancé a pillar of strength,” “father and brother killed in a light plane crash,” “grandfather a renowned local pervert,” “the trash TV twink is the son of Sir Edward Topham, KC.”
How? How had this happened? After everything William had told me about his experiences with the press, I couldn’t believe he’d given an interview toThe Bulletin. But there he was, staring back at me, in a photograph taken in the East Drawing Room, wearing the clothes he was wearing yesterday. He was quoted throughout the story.
Sunny:I used to work with Gary Ashworth. He’s old skool tabloid. How’d he blag his way in?
Sunny:Let me know if there’s anything I can do xx
I found William in the stable yard, washing Achilles. He was wearing rugby shorts and steel-capped boots and nothing else. Both man and horse were wet and sudsy. William saw me approaching but couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact.
“Morning,” I called out.
William shuffled around behind his horse. “Good morning.”
“Is it?”
I stood before Achilles, rubbing the beautiful animal’s nose, wondering if he knew his owner was an idiot.
“Is there anything you maybe forgot to tell me about yesterday, William?”
There was a long pause.
“Ah,” he said.
“Ah,” I replied.
William’s head appeared beside me, face sheepish, hands wringing the water out of a cloth.
“Is itbad?”
“Bad?” I said—only containing my outrage so as not to spook Achilles. “Are you fucking insane? What were you thinking?”
William’s chest heaved like he was swallowing a hiccup. Then he did it again. He was choking down tears. My anger dissolved.
“Hey, hey, hey.” I put my arms around him, and he nestled into my shoulder. “Tell me what happened.”
“You’re going to think I’m such an idiot,” he said.
We sat side by side on a hay bale as William filled me in on the previous morning.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“If I tell you that, you’re going to think I’m even more stupid than you already do.”
“I seriously doubt that,” I said. We both frowned. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, I promise.”
“This past week, you’ve seemed so…proud… of everything I’ve been doing. The way I’ve got all professionalised and got stuck in and got?—”
“Dressed.”
