Charles by Con Riley

15

They made more tea together, this time taking it out to the table and chairs in the back garden. He positioned the seats so they could sit next to each other with Hugo’s leg propped up. Charles passed him a steaming mug. “Try not to get distracted by my sex appeal and let it go cold, this time. Biscuit?” He plucked a Hobnob from the pile on a plate.

Hugo took one as well. He also plucked a thought Charles had earlier from his head, asking, “Is this going to be awkward?”

“No,” Charles said, certain, basking in a post-orgasmic sense of bonhomie that always left him sure he could solve all of the world’s problems. “It’s going to be fantastic. Besides how awkward can it get? We’re only here until summer break starts, aren’t we? I’ll help get you back in the saddle, and then you can….” He blew over the top of his mug, steam pluming. “What are you going to do when you leave?”

“I did have a few ideas. Before…” He tapped his knee. “Something to do with children. Youth work, maybe. Outward Bound style.”

“That sounds a bit….”

“Athletic?” Hugo blew over his own tea, but if he thought he’d masked his sigh, he failed. “I know. Anyway, I’m still not sure I’m cut out to work with kids.” He ate his biscuit, licking chocolate from his fingers instead of elaborating.

Charles didn’t rush him. He saw no need. Not now that they’d resolved the only stumbling block between them. And that was the beauty of sex with no strings—Hugo owed him nothing, like he owed him nothing in return too. If they chose to talk, that was a bonus, conversation something he missed now Keir was at a distance.

Here though… he surveyed the lawns that led to woods, which rose steeply up the valley, then scanned where the school building towered behind the stable block’s single storey. Here, they were in a bubble, caught like two flies in amber, but he didn’t feel trapped. A sense of freedom rose inside him instead, like the steam from his tea, but the feeling didn’t dissipate half so fast. It condensed instead, coalescing into something thick and warming.

He glanced at Hugo to find he wore a different expression. Thoughtful, and nowhere near as happy. “You said your knee had been getting better before you had to come and rescue me and Tor?” Charles gestured to where it was propped up on the cushions, looking much less swollen. “Does that mean you can pick up your plans again?”

“I hope so.” Hugo set his mug down. “It’s a setback, that’s all. Shame because I did want to do the High Tor challenge. That would have been a good clue about just how far I can push it. Still could be, if I’m lucky. I want to see it through. I promised some of the students. Plus, Luke needs a certain number of adults to supervise them.”

“When is it?”

“A few weeks before summer break.”

“That’s ages away.” Right now, it seemed like forever. “There’s still plenty of time to rest it.”

“Kind of puts a damper on maintaining my fitness. The last big training practice is over half-term. Really hope I’m fit enough for it.”

Charles thought Hugo was more than fit enough already. “Has that always been a thing for you?”

“Keeping fit?” Hugo cupped his hands around his mug. “I’ve always enjoyed being active. My first experiences of youth ministry were as my dad’s helper.” He touched the silver tip of his walking stick, answering an unspoken question about how he’d come by it.

“He was medically retired after injury,” Hugo said. “What’s that saying about apples and trees?”

“They don’t fall far from each other?”

Hugo nodded. “Anyway, he never stopped being interested in the outdoors. Instructed kids on rock-climbing, orienteering, whatever adventure took his fancy, and I helped him. Found I loved it too. Couldn’t help but soak up the message that came with it.” He shrugged. “I liked the people who helped him. Realised they were the threads knotting passion and purpose together.” He stretched, the fabric of his shirt pulling tight across his chest. “There’s something about using your body for what it’s made for.”

That made Charles chuckle. “Well I’m a fan of that.” He winked. “Getting good and sweaty? Can’t beat it.”

Hugo gave him a wry look. “All the outdoorsy stuff was something I felt I could offer.” He gestured to the woods. “It was all right for me. I grew up next to nature, with woods like these for a playground. But give an inner city kid a tree to climb the first time and they’d tell you to do one. Showing them how, and being there every step of the way with them means you get to see their faces when they reach the top for the first time. Their horizons expand. It’s life-changing.”

Charles nodded, seeing the moment Hugo closed his eyes and said, “I want to believe I can do that again, one day. Whether for the church, or not. It’s work that still needs to happen.”

That warmth inside Charles spread. “How can I help you with that?”

“With my knee?” Hugo asked, sounding surprised.

With his knee. Or with finding another way to feel fulfilment that, yet again, sounded familiar. “What would help it to heal faster?”

“What I’m doing right now, to be honest, only it’s time to add in some more movement. Walks that get longer each day.” He let out a small laugh. “I need to get back to that. My pockets are almost depleted.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I didn’t have much to do when I got here,” Hugo admitted. “When no-one ever came to my office, I started walking the school grounds. Hoped the students would get used to seeing me about the place. That they’d see that they could walk with me, if they needed to.” He let out a long breath that told Charles he’d walked alone much more often than with others. “It kept me busy. I found no end of stuff the children dropped.”

Charles could almost see him then, his focus on the ground, his head lowered, alone until Charles got here.

That did something to him.

Made him want to say sorry. Apologise for all of the months Hugo had been without someone to walk beside him. He opened his mouth to say so, but Hugo continued.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I hardly needed my stick. I did so much walking that it was almost back to normal. This is a blip. My own fault. I should have known better than to push it, but….”

“But you had to help me?” Charles said without sugar-coating, because the truth didn’t hurt now it had led to this outcome.

“Glad I did,” Hugo said. He turned so his gaze settled on Charles, a deep well he could almost tumble into. “Absolutely worth a few weeks’ set-back.”

Charles had to look away. Needed to, because that much depth was a lot to deal with. “Okay,” he said, aiming for a businesslike tone. Not sure if he hit it. “Let’s set out your priorities.” He listed them on his fingers. “Steadily increasing walks each day. For how long?”

“For another week at the most. Should be back to where it was by then.”

“Okay, so no swinging from the chandeliers for you until then.”

“Swinging from…? Oh.”

“Or no swinging from them at all,” Charles hurried to promise. “No pressure.” Then he heard himself making an offer. “Unless you want a repeat of this morning?”

Hugo nodded. “For my sins, yes. Yes, I do.”

Happiness shouldn’t have bubbled over at that, but it spilled out of Charles in laughter. “So you should. I’m a catch. A slippery one though, so don’t you try to net me. I’m a practice fish only, that’s all. Definitely up for stuffing and mounting, but not interested in being a long-term trophy on your wall, okay?”

Hugo chuckled. “You have such a way with words. But you’re…” He pressed his lips together before saying, “You’re absolutely worth catching and keeping, Charles, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Like a goldfish trapped in a bowl when there’s a whole ocean still left to swim?” Charles noticed another climb of colour above the neck of Hugo’s T-shirt. “It’s okay if you’re attracted to me. I’m attracted to you too,” he said, dropping his teasing, remembering the way Hugo had looked away before coming. “If it’s really been a while for you, I can take it slow,” he offered. “Show you what you’ve been missing.”

“I didn’t miss it,” Hugo said.

Charles raised his brows because he’d seen evidence that said the opposite.

“I mean,” Hugo clarified, more of that flush climbing. “It’s a bit hard to miss something you’ve never had.”

“You never…” Charles opened his mouth. Then he closed it. Thought for moment, and then asked, “Never?”

“Not full sex.” Hugo focussed anywhere but on Charles. “Close, but….” He shook his head. “I was with someone at uni, but we were both committed to….”

“To what? To waiting? That’s….” Charles almost said so old-fashioned, but Hugo beat him to it, only he said something different.

“Impossible.” He nodded. “I know, and that’s why I’m here instead of ordained, over thirty and still—” He couldn’t seem to say the word, so Charles helped him.

“A virgin?”

Hugo nodded, his gaze fixed on the tree line.

“Okay,” Charles said, even though to his mind it really wasn’t, baffled by the thought of abstinence at any level. “But what did you mean by impossible? There are gay clergy, aren’t there?”

“More now than when I started paying real attention to my calling.” He twisted in his seat to look directly at Charles. “But doctrine is still doctrine.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that although the face of the church looks more accepting, the wording that underpins ordination isn’t. Not at all.” He touched the scar on his face. “I had a bit of a revelation.” Hugo’s gaze locked with his. “I want to be a real husband to someone. To love them, and be loved in return by them. To be a real father to our children, however we get to have them. And I still want to follow my calling,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “Society’s moved on, but at a fundamental level, the church still digs its heels in. I have faith, and I believe in the spirit of the message, but the version written by man tells me I cannot love and be loved. Not as a gay man. And definitely not while wearing a clerical collar.”

“So you won’t.”

“Can’t.”

“But I read about gay marriage all the time.”

“When it comes to being clergy, the devil’s in the detail. The small print makes it quite clear. The vows mean living a lie. Promising to be celibate for life, or nothing, if I won’t marry a woman. Yes, other clergy have ignored that detail. I won’t. Not when it means imposing that on another person.” His hand stole to his knee, rubbing. “And not when life can be as short as I almost found out. It should be lived with a whole heart, not with only half of it permitted. So, here I am.”

“Here you are,” Charles echoed, not sure what to do with baggage he would have thrown in the lake at home if someone had tried to shove it on him. Would have tied rocks to it to drown it, so it couldn’t ever surface. “You know that’s all absolute bullshit, don’t you?”

Hugo’s gaze didn’t waver. “I’ve heard faith called worse things. All I can say is that it seemed worth continuing with hope right up until it didn’t. Waiting for the church to catch up seemed a small price when I got to do something I loved. Something that had so much meaning—”

That all sounded like recrimination, the words feeling heavy. Too heavy for Charles to know how to deal with, so he stemmed them. He pressed his mouth to Hugo’s, who kissed him back, clasping his face and shoulder, holding tight as if Charles might save him from sinking.

“You,” Charles said when they broke off, saying what he told every child he’d ever worked with, “Can be whatever you want. Anything in the whole world.” He narrowed his eyes. “Unless it’s bullshit, fucked up nonsense.” He got out of his seat and settled himself on Hugo’s lap, careful, but feeling that more touch was what he needed. As much touch as it took until Hugo felt the truth of what Charles told him. “You can be whatever you want,” he repeated.

“It’s starting to seem that way.” Hugo clasped his face again, gazing at him with something close to the same wonder Charles saw on the faces of children who arrived in his classrooms already sure that success was only for others. Hugo even managed a smile. “It’s starting to seem as though this setback happened for a reason as well.”

“Divine intervention? I wouldn’t go that far,” Charles said. “But you definitely need an intervention in your sex life.” He liked how Hugo laughed, the sound welling up and spilling. “So, just to be clear, full sex is off the menu completely?” He watched him closely, gauging his reaction. “Or off the menu until you meet someone special?”

Hugo looked conflicted. “I already—”

He ducked his head, so Charles mirrored what Hugo had done in the kitchen, putting two fingers under his chin, lifting until their eyes met. He echoed the same words Hugo had used to describe him. “Hopeful, heart-warming, and very human. That’s the kind of sex you should have when you’re ready.”

He got off Hugo’s lap and stood.

“Until then, why don’t you make the most of me, and practice?”