“Andrés and Simon, are they together?”
“Yes, they’re boyfriends. They met at Aspen when we played in the tournament and won. They also share one of the cottages. They live next door to Kirsty, my head groom, who is married to Alexa.”
“That’s good. That you’re so inclusive,” he says.
“Why wouldn’t we be?” I smile and see his face crease into a frown, as if the thought that a company could be open and inclusive wasn’t on his radar.
“I guess I’m not used to it,” he says, and my dislike of his former boss and that he experienced harassment and bullying because of who he is ramps up further.
“I hope you’ll feel at home here.” This time I do reach out and squeeze his arm.
“Thank you.” He treats me to a smile that warms my heart.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHARLEY
“How’d it go?” Pete asks when he enters the kitchen, wiping his oily hands on a rag before going to the old stone sink to wash them.
“Better than expected,” I reply, looking up from where I’m reading through the contract I have laid out on the table. I’ve read it once but want to make sure I haven’t missed anything. “I’m going to accept the job.”
“I’m pleased. You deserve a fresh start.”
The tiny cottage is at the rear of the garage that Pete’s owned for thirty years. He worked here as an apprentice from the age of sixteen and then purchased it from the owner when he wanted to retire. The cottage just has a kitchen and a living room downstairs. On the first floor is a bedroom and a bathroom. When I came to live with Pete the attic was turned into a bedroom for me. It’s small, cramped, and because of the sloping ceiling, I can only just stand upright in the centre. I’m pretty sureI developed a hunch when I was sixteen, only learning to stand straight when I moved out two years later.
I get up and squeeze past Pete to stir the stew I have simmering on the ancient AGA he has, which takes up more space than a modern cooker would, though I know Pete won’t part with it.
“That smells good,” he says, drying his hands.
“It should. It’s your recipe.” Pete had made the same stew the first day I arrived, bewildered by the loss of my parents and not knowing what would happen to me. I’d met my mum’s brother only a couple of times before and didn’t quite believe he’d want me in his life. He said it was a welcome stew for new friends and old. I learned later that it was one of the few things he knew how to cook, so he was probably making it anyway, but it was his way of saying I now had a home here and I’d appreciated the effort. It seemed fitting for me to make it now as I return again.
I told Pete pretty much everything when I arrived on his doorstep last night without warning and begged him to let me stay for a few days. I’ve always been able to talk to him. I think it was because he spoke to me as an adult from the day I arrived. He said he didn’t have kids so didn’t know how to talk to them, that he was a simple guy and so I’d have to put up with the way he was. There’d been no wrapping me in cotton wool when we’d talked about my parents either.
“You’ve lost your parents and I’ve lost a sister. It’s a rum old life but we’re still here and we’ll make the best of it we can,” was the length of his speech on the subject. Not that we didn’t talk of my parents, but it was always with fond memories. He didn’t cuss in front of me until I was older, but he didn’t hold back on subjects either. And so I was able to talk to him about anything, especially after he made me stop calling him Uncle Pete when I was aroundfourteen and said just Pete was fine. It was to him I turned when I thought I might be gay when I was sixteen. I remember sitting down with him and confessing all my conflicting thoughts. As always, I got Pete’s short and straightforward view on it. You might be, you might not be. You’ll discover soon enough. It was so matter-of-fact and such a non-event that I felt a bit foolish for making a deal of it. But I recall being a bit shocked at what he told me next.
“I’m that way inclined myself. About guys I mean. Not that I can be bothered with relationships, and I’m too set in my ways these days to let anyone into my life, but I’ve had a few lovers in my time.”
“You’re gay? You sly dog, I never knew!”
“And why would you if I never told you?” he’d answered in his usual manner. “There’s two ways you can go with this once you’ve figured it out. You can let the world know, and be prepared for not everyone approving, though not so much round here. Larchdown is a pretty accommodating village, which is why I came here in the first place. Or you can keep it to yourself. It doesn’t have to be anyone else’s business unless you let it.”
I pondered his words for a long time, and even though he was right about Larchdown, I kept it to myself until I moved to Manchester. I never even told Gabriel. I wanted to, as he was my best friend, but he was also the one who was making me question my sexuality, and I didn’t know how he’d take it.
There was a moment, when we were seventeen, when I thought I would tell him. We were in his bedroom at Monkwood listening to music. It was the last night before he went back for his final year at Woodcoutts and the time seemed perfect. We’d had a good day, riding over the heath, and I’d been invited to dinner.Afterwards we were lying on his bed facing each other, and the late evening summer sun was shining through his window making his hair like spun gold and his eyes like deep lagoons. I was aching to touch him. To kiss him. Desperate to know what his plump dark-pink lips tasted like. I plucked up my courage and told him I had something to tell him. I remember him sitting up and saying he did as well. I insisted he went first and then he told me that he had a girlfriend... Celeste. My heart plummeted and my courage failed me, and I made up something lame that I told him. I don’t even remember what it was now.
So I kept it to myself, until today of course when I told him my story. He didn’t show any sign of surprise, but then, that made sense as soon as I met Simon and Andrés. I wasn’t wholly convinced I was doing the right thing, running away from Manchester and back home just because Gabriel gave me a chance at the right time. But seeing Simon and Andrés and how accepted they were, I made my mind up then. As long as the contract was acceptable, which it is. More than.
I set the table with plates and cutlery while Pete pours us both a beer. His customary dinner drink. I cut a few slices of some crusty bread I bought in the village on my way back earlier and set the stew pot down on the table between us.
“This is good. Thanks for cooking,” Pete says after his first mouthful.
“The least I can do for putting me up for a few days.”
“You’re family.” Pete waves his hand, dismissing any misgivings I have. “Of course you can come back whenever you want. Will you need the cottage? Madsen is still using it.” Pete also owns a cottage in the village, across the green from the garage. He rents it out for some extra income. I came back once before fora month, two years ago after I broke up with Tony and before I headed to Manchester. I lived in the cottage then.
“No, the job comes with a house. One of the cottages on the estate,” I explain.
“Does it, eh? That’s generous.”
