Speaking without thinking, Danny suggested, ‘We should go.’
Too late he realized his mistake, revealing how keen he was. Cool and aloof were the only ways to play it. This was why he was perennially single, he scolded himself, hastening the conversation on.
‘I always wondered why they’ve never filmed an action scene there. A Hitchcock finale. With the villain sliding down the dome to his death.’
Danny finished his drink, still kicking himself for suggesting that they could go on a second date. But before he could say anything else Luis took the glass from Danny’s hand, placed it on the floor and kissed him.
Afterwards they lay together in the bed holding each other tightly because the apartment really was very cold. The sex had been good. Luis was in great shape, gym fit and by every traditional definition a heartthrob. When Luis excused himself to go to the bathroom Danny wondered if that was his cue to leave. He decided to take a chance and stay exactly where he was. Minutes later Luis returned, slipping back into the bed and putting his arms around Danny. It was so simple and lovely Danny almost cried. Luis asked, ‘Anything you need?’
Just this, Danny thought.
Luis was a deep sleeper. He didn’t move and he didn’t make a sound, an ideal partner in bed, Danny concluded. Maybe his body was a little warm but it was a freezing night so that was great for winter. It might be an issue in the summer, Danny continued before smiling at his own stupidity, imagining a summer together before there had even been a tomorrow. He was enjoying the night too much to waste it on sleep but eventually he must have nodded off because when he opened his eyes he saw the night sky turning a bruised shade of blue. Very carefully he lifted Luis’s arm and sneaked out of bed, collecting the glasses from the floor and heading into the kitchen where he washed up and wiped down the surfaces. He tidied away the honey, the spoons and the saucepan he had used to heat the water and whisky. He cleaned until the kitchen was spotless. As he was finishing Luis walked in.
‘You didn’t need to do that.’
Danny shrugged.
‘I didn’t want to leave a mess.’
That wasn’t how he wanted to be remembered, by a sticky spoon and the remains of a squeezed lemon. Luis fell silent and Danny knew he was weighing up whether to suggest that they should meet again. Why would he? Danny wondered. A man as handsome and successful as Luis could walk into any bar and find someone exciting and new. Danny wasn’t going to get down about it. If Luis didn’t want a second date Danny would be grateful for their perfect nighttogether. He had already devised a solution to avoid any awkwardness.
‘I’ve written down my phone number, so you have it. In case you want to call. No pressure. Up to you. And it doesn’t have to be at the top of St Paul’s. It could be in a pub. Or a park.’
A park? What was he talking about? Luis picked up the slip of paper, looking at the number. He didn’t offer his own. There’s your answer, Danny thought. He left the kitchen, fetching his clothes and changing quickly.
Danny was ready to leave when Luis joined him.
‘This might sound odd.’
Danny tried to reassure him, ‘Odd is fine.’
For the first time since they had met, Luis became bashful.
‘Would you like to go to a wedding with me?’
The entire evening Luis had been so composed – sane and steady. Then, at six in the morning, he had invited Danny to a wedding. It was even more crazy than suggesting a second date to the top of St Paul’s Cathedral. Danny was delighted.
‘Sure, Luis. I’d love to go to a wedding with you.’
As an afterthought Danny added, ‘Who’s getting married?’
Twenty Years LaterLondon 2012
Part OneSummer
Chapter OneThe Wedding Anniversary
Danny had decided to wear fancy dress, despite worrying that he looked ridiculous. Earlier in the week the outfit seemed fun, playfully interpreting the invitation’s theme of ‘Summer Love’ by dressing up as a lawn tennis player from the 1920s, including flannel trousers, a piqué polo shirt and a knitted V-neck vest. He had found the items in a vintage store on Berwick Street, chancing across a wooden-framed Slazenger racket with fraying strings which now rested on his knees as if between sets. As a gift he had baked a coconut cake with rum-soaked sponge, layers of cream cheese and decorated with marzipan roses, noting, as it neared completion, that it resembled a wedding cake in miniature, which was appropriate since he had made it to celebrate Emma and John’s twentieth wedding anniversary – the reason for today’s garden party.
With the cake on a porcelain stand under a glass cloche, Danny sat alone on a cedar gazebo under an oak tree in Pembridge Square in Notting Hill. Protected by a high privet hedge he was hidden from the other guests arriving at the house. Strictly speaking he was trespassing – this was one of London’s exclusive gardens for residents only, enclosed by a wrought-iron fence and requiring a key to access it. He had slipped in as an older woman entered on her early-evening stroll, catching the gate before it closed. She had assessed him, sceptical that he was a resident of such a prestigious address. However, observing the coconut cake and tennis attire, she had refrained from saying anything. After all, how dangerous could such a man be? Once inside the square Danny toured the flower beds before discovering the gazebo where he now sat, waiting for Luis to show up and save him from the embarrassment of making an entrance to this high society garden party on his own, knowing almost no one and most likely the only man in fancy dress.
Even though it was a Saturday Luis was working. He was now at the prestigious Allen & Overy, one of London’s top law firms. He often worked late and occasionally at weekends, intent on becoming a partner by the age of fifty. So far Danny had already spent an hour waiting in a Turkish coffee shop near Notting Hill Gate tube station, sipping an iced cardamom coffee and reading various newspapers’ gloomy predictions about the upcoming London Olympics. Grownrestless with caffeine and pessimism, Danny had sent Luis a text message as a gentle nudge, saying that the frosting on his cake was starting to slip and he couldn’t wait any longer. He was heading to the party, hoping to jolt a reply. But as he approached the white stucco house on the corner, more embassy than family home, he lost his nerve, continuing past the front door, orbiting the square until he seized his chance to sneak into the private gardens.
None of this explained why Danny was feeling sad. He wasn’t upset that Luis was late, the cake wasn’t ruined, and he was in no rush to join the party. To cheer himself up he decided to vape. After quitting smoking, Danny became an early adopter of vaping. Today’s selection was Sunshine Watermelon, an appropriate antidote to a bout of the summertime blues. Carefully refilling the device, Danny took a hit and exhaled a plume of fruity vapour. Barely a minute later the woman appeared by his side. If the cake had won him a sliver of credibility the vape cost him every shred of it.
‘You’re not a resident, are you?’
He shook his head.
