Ignoring his less-than-fragrant morning breath, a ridiculous description in a vampire household when we rose in the afternoon, I kissed him sweetly.
“I would be honoured to be your official boyfriend, or anything else you’d like to label our relationship. I’m kicking myself I never made this explicitly clear before now. But, before we continue this conversation, I promised you a cup of tea. Wait there. I’ll be right back.”
He didn’t wait, of course. When I returned, he smelled of soap and toothpaste and a little bit of anticipation. I handed him the mug and clinked my own against it. “Cheers.”
“You’re drinking tea?” He looked disbelieving.
I shrugged. “Why not? You love the stuff so much, it has to be good for something. Besides, it feels as though we should mark today. I haven’t had a proper boyfriend for…wow, over a century.”I need to speak to Trace. We’ve not discussed this either.Baxter would kick my arse into next week if she knew how stupid I’ve been.I gave James the brightest smile I could muster, although it wasn’t a great effort, but I wasn’t used to talking about my past. “I suppose I should tell you about Bertie.”
28
JAMES
My pyjama trouserswere cold and sticky. I was stillhotand sticky, a tousled mess of dried sweat and embarrassment, but Edwin’s cuddles meant the world to me, as did his words. Even if I was struggling to accept them, I still craved hearing them. I took another glug of my tea and shoved my neuroses to one side to learn more about Edwin’s history.
“Bertie? Was he—” I did some quick maths in my head. “—your boyfriend? What happened to him? Was it bad because it was illegal to be gay back then?” I knew my eyes were probably like saucers. This was practically the first time Edwin had hinted at his past apart from the brief mention of his mum.
Edwin sighed. “He was, although we didn’t call ourselves boyfriends. We wouldn’t have used that word. Sweethearts maybe, or lovers. Except we never said either of those words out loud either.” He stuck his nose absently in his tea mug, then reared back as if shocked it contained anything. “I loved him, James. God, I loved him so damn much. I thought perhaps he’d been sent by an angel the first time he smiled at me.” He shook his head, his eyes distant. “You can’t possibly imagine the Great War. I can barely credit it and I was there. The horrors, the utterly appalling conditions, the stench of fear and mud anddeath — relentless and overwhelming. The cold, the noise, the rats.”
He shuddered. “You have to remember, I wasn’t some namby-pamby spoiled little rich boy off to play toy soldiers in an officer’s uniform from behind the relative safety of a desk somewhere. I was an East End child from a poor background, so you’d have thought I’d have been used to a bit of squalor, but this was straight out of everyone’s worst nightmares and more.” He sighed. “Way worse than nightmares. I was a front lines grunt, a squaddie, cannon fodder. Pile ’em high and kill ’em quick.” His bitterness was palpable.
I shivered. He eyed me, then arranged the blanket around me again. “Bertie was a lot like me, but posher. Not a toff, but classy in a quiet sort of way. A mum and a dad who were married to each other, a smart little house instead of our cramped, shabby flat. An older sister and a younger brother.” He sighed again. “Much younger, thank God. His brother wasn’t old enough to go to war like Bertie.”
“What happened to him?” I barely dared to ask, but I felt compelled to. I wanted to know what made Edwin tick, so learning anything about his past or indeed anything he cared to tell me would help. Building up a picture of the man behind the vampire seemed important if we were really going to have the relationship I dreamed about in my weaker moments. I had the awful feeling Bertie had died in the war. Maybe Edwin had too. I realised I still knew almost nothing about this man.
Edwin’s gaze became distant. He leaned forward and rested his chin on my shoulder as he held me. His words were measured, quiet, and full of pain.
“He survived the war. So did I, although I was an absolute mess. PTSD, they call it now. Back then it was known as shell shock. Hardly a surprise considering what we were thrown into. I was in a bad way, but I came out of it better than a lot of fellows,in part due to my age. At least I was a fully grown adult when it started, not like some of the mere boys they sent out there.” His shaky exhale told me he didn’t speak of this often. “Children,” he whispered. My blood froze in my veins. I tightened my grip around his waist and waited for him to continue.
“Have you heard about the influenza pandemic that began in 1918?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know much about it, apart from it killed, like, millions?” That had always seemed like some freaky fake statistic made up by folks who wanted to scare us for some unidentifiable reason. Now I was sitting in the embrace of someone who’d lived through the era, the concept made the hair on the back of my neck rise.Millions died. Not pretend people like sparkly story vampires either. Oh, God.
“It certainly did. I caught it almost as soon as I got home. To be honest, it probably saved me from drinking myself to death, which had been my initial plan. Not a deliberate act of self-sabotage, but all I could think of to numb the constant images in my head. I was really sick. Anyway, even after the worst of it, I was ill for weeks with a terribly weak chest. Mind you, my chest hadn’t been up to much before that, due to life in the trenches. Mum still had to work, of course. I remember she’d ask a neighbour, an old widow whose name I can’t recall now, to knock on the window every lunchtime and wait for me to wave back. God knows what would have happened if I hadn’t. We didn’t have telephones back then.Wedidn’t,” he amended. “Eventually, I got better and found a job working for a newspaper. It was indoors, which suited my chest, and paid enough to keep coal in the grate and better food on the table. Mum was so proud of me, said I was on my way to becoming a gentleman.”
I smiled, although he couldn’t see me. Edwin was gorgeous and obviously very talented, but ‘gentleman’ wasn’t the firstword I’d have used to describe him, although on second thoughts, if we were talking actions rather than accent, then he’d been the perfect gentleman to me.
“Go on,” I prompted him.
“Oh, right, so I was working. Bertie and I had to be careful. He’d had a job with a packing firm as some kind of wages supervisor before the war. After he was invalided out, he couldn’t work, but I didn’t mind paying for things his pension wouldn’t stretch to. We would meet for supper at a Lyon’s Corner House.” He huffed a soft laugh. “Don’t suppose you even know what I mean. Never mind. We had to be careful, obviously, but we would eat, then take a walk in St James’ Park or along the Embankment.”
“No sneaking off for a f-fuck?” I somehow had the feeling pre-vampire Edwin hadn’t been too much different from my version, and my version wasn’t the abstinent sort. Or he hadn’t been until he’d met me. No wonder he liked Trace so much.
Another soft huff. “Not like you mean, not with Bertie, but I’m not discussing that part. He wasn’t a conquest, a quick hand shandy in some dark alley while praying the Old Bill wouldn’t pop up out of nowhere and we’d have to scarper.” He sat back and snagged my gaze with his big blue eyes. “I talk a lot, but never about the important stuff.”
When I nodded, he rearranged us so I was lying on top of him, his head supported by a cushion. He looked sad.
“I thought I had it all. Made it back intact, ish, from the war. Got through the ’flu. Had a job I didn’t mind. Mum was much the same as usual. Bertie told me he loved me. Fucking hell, was I in for a rude awakening.”
He closed his eyes and found my hands, wrapping them in his own and pulling them against his chest. His next words came out in a rush like he needed to say them quickly.
“The influenza came back, twice as bad as before. It took Mum only four days after she got sick. Bertie died the following week. I went from everything I wanted and needed in my life to losing the only two people I loved in ten short days. I couldn’t even mourn Bertie. Not in the way I needed to. His family thought I was his army brother, his comrade in arms, his best friend. They had no idea. They’d have been shamed if the truth came out, and I’d have lost my job, at the very least. So, uh, that was what happened.” I could see he was fighting to remain calm by the slight tremble of his lips.
I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure there was anything Icouldsay. In the end, when the silence stretched on for too long, I asked him, “What was Bertie’s real name?” I’d paid enough attention to know that people back then often had formal names and nicknames.
Edwin cracked open one eye. “Bertram.” He managed a small smile. “Sounds so old-fashioned now, but it was popular then, like Liam or Ryan are now.” He bumped his hips upwards, jostling me. “That’s enough about my sorry stories. Want to shower together? Bet we could squeeze in if we get really close. I could wash your back.”
We absolutely couldnot,because his shower cubicle was built to fit in a small space, but I liked that he wanted to pretend we could, even if I didn’t think I could bear his eyes on me as I peeled off my pyjamas. I certainly didn’t mind seeing him naked, but I’d been spiralling steadily downwards for a while now, and I wasn’t confident enough to cope with him looking at me like a ravenous man stares at a steak. I wanted it…but I couldn’t. But, more importantly, I had to ask,
