Charles by Con Riley

8

“Okay. Yes. I’ll do it.” Charles shook the hand Luke offered. “When do you want me to start?”

“The sooner the better.”

Charles remembered that unread text from Keir. “I’ll be staying with a friend tonight, but then I’m free.”

Luke nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow, then? That gives me time to let Hugo know you’re coming.”

He discussed some admin details, but Charles hardly listened, still taking in how quickly his prayers had been answered, fortune turning in his favour for once. Before he knew it, he stood on Glynn Harber’s front steps for the second time that day, this time much less despondent.

A bell rang, signalling the end to the school day, and children streamed out, parting around him like water would around a pebble, all rushing outdoors.

For the first time in what felt like an age, Charles moved with the tide instead of against it, flowing towards something good rather than treading the same old water. The current carried him all the way back to the Defender. He got in, excited to let Keir know his news, even happier that he’d get to tell him all the details face-to-face in a few minutes over a massive, well-earned gin and tonic.

But first, for a few sweet moments, he basked.

In success.

In anticipation.

And not just for the classroom he’d get to work in. His sole worry centred on Hugo’s reaction.

Would he have kissed Charles like that if he’d known they’d end up living together?

It was a fair question.

Would he be pleased, or dread the idea of waking up each day under the same roof as someone he’d shared a moment of madness with?

Charles told himself that it would be fine. They were both adults. So what if things had got a bit heated? Besides, neither of them would be staying long enough for it to be awkward. Summer break was less than two months away.

But wouldn’t it be great to be here until then?

Through his windscreen, Glynn Harber was bathed in sunshine that warmed its cool grey granite, the woods rising on each side of the valley, less ominous now the rain clouds had gone, everything about the view lifting spirits he hadn’t known had been so low.

Smiling, he pulled out his phone and opened the chat he shared with Keir, scrolling to the last message he’d typed while sheltering from rain that seemed to have fallen years ago, not hours, his future so much brighter than it had been while getting dripped on.

He found his last I’ll come over and see you message, his smile fading as he read Keir’s reply.

Keir: You can’t. We’re all away, remember? Call me when you can!

Away?

Charles frowned, placing a phone call.

Keir picked up so fast he must have been waiting for Charles to ring him. “Finally,” Keir said, a tannoy echoing in the background. “I know you’re into edging, Charles, but talk about delayed gratification. How did the interview go? Hurry up and tell me all about it.”

“Hello to you too,” Charles said. “The interview went terribly. I didn’t get the permanent position.”

Wherever Keir was, he must have come to a halt. Charles heard him apologise to someone for stopping with no warning. Then he spoke to Charles. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. The headmaster offered me something better. A job with two parts.” That was the spin he’d settled on between Luke’s office and here. “Both short-term posts, but ones that will keep me out of George’s way until he forgets about a project he wants to foist on me.”

“And you’re okay with short-term? I thought you were looking for something permanent?”

“Oh, no,” Charles said as if that was the very last thing he wanted. “No, no, no. We both know I’m not cut out for commitment.” Charles watched cars leave the car park—parents collecting the children too young to board yet. “Where’s the fun in that? And this is going to be fun. I’ve missed working with little ones.” He leaned over to the glove box, opening it and shoving aside that packet of letters to retrieve some of the pictures sent by his last class. Before he could straighten, someone knocked on his window—a woman with a child in her arms.

Tor grinned through the glass at him, mud-free now, and cheerful, but the woman holding him looked awful.

“Hang on,” Charles told Keir, winding down the window. “Hi, Tor. Did you get a chocolate biscuit?”

“Yes!” Tor shouted. “This many!” He waggled all of his fingers.

“Tor says that you’re the one who found him, Mr…”

“Heppel,” Charles said. “Charles. It was my pleasure, but that can’t have been an easy phone call to get from the school. I’m sorry about that.” He wanted to say he was sorry for raising Tor’s hopes as well, but as her eyes were red-rimmed too, like Ruth’s had been, he guessed she’d already had enough to deal with. “He really hadn’t strayed far,” Charles promised.

“He shouldn’t have been able to stray at all.” She pressed her lips together, but Charles saw that her chin trembled. “He should be safe here.”

She wasn’t wrong. But from what he’d learned today, all Charles could do was reassure her. “If it eases your mind, there will be an extra pair of hands and eyes in Tor’s class from Monday.”

“Finn?” Tor asked. “He’s tall like my daddy.”

“Maybe Finn. Or maybe me.” He leaned back as Tor almost climbed through the Defender’s open window, so excited.

His mother hauled him back, but at least she laughed now. “Let Mr Heppel get back to his phone call.” She set Tor down, and said more quietly. “Thanks. That’s what I should have started with.” She smiled. It was weak, but Charles saw Tor in the faintest sign of matching dimples. “Thank you. I’m…” She raised her hand tracing a line down the side of her face. “I am sorry about your face though,” she said, confusing him until he remembered the scratch.

“It’s nothing. Really,” he promised. “Enjoy your weekend.” He watched them walk over to their car, and raised the phone to his ear. “Keir? You still there?”

“Yes. What’s wrong with your face, apart from the obvious sad fact that you look just like your brothers.”

“Excuse me? I do not.” Charles adjusted the rear-view mirror, checking. The scratch on his cheek was already less livid. “I’m fucking fabulous. And nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”

“I wish I’d been at home when you texted,” Keir said. “If I’d known you were interviewing, I would have….”

“What? Postponed whatever you’re doing so you could hold my hand? We’re not still at prep-school.” Charles chuckled, but part of him was reminded of George saying it was time to move on without Keir. “You know, I can actually manage without you.”

“It’s not just the alphabet you get back to front, is it?” Keir asked. “It was you who held my hand when we were kids, remember? Of course you can manage without me. You’re the most resilient person I know. Nothing gets you down, and you always bounce back. It’s what makes you so attractive. For a Heppel.”

Charles fluttered his eyelashes as if Keir could see him. “You say the nicest things.”

“That’s the power of Stockholming for you,” Keir said. In the background, Charles heard the brisk click of his heels before Keir cut back to the chase. “So, what’s the second part of the job?”

“It’s a live-in post.”

“Doing what?”

Charles still couldn’t find the words to describe what else Luke had asked of him. At least broaching it with Keir meant he got to unpick it. “Helping a sad man to be happy.”

Keir spluttered. “Who?”

“Just someone who’s a bit low, so I’m going to help them get it up. Their spirits, I mean. It’s not a sex thing.” He rubbed a finger over lips that had only just stopped tingling.

“Everything’s a sex thing, for you. Who are you talking about?”

“Hugo.”

“Hugo? Wait, you mean His Holy Hotness?” Keir paused, the sound of another tannoy announcement almost drowning out his next question. “He’s asked you for that? To cheer him up? To live with him?”

“Not exactly.” Charles glanced over his shoulder at his suitcase. “The headmaster was going to talk to him about it tonight while I stayed over with you.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry—”

“Don’t you dare apologise for having a life.” As Charles spoke, a vague recollection surfaced. “It’s the sailing trip you’re away on, isn’t it?”

“Yes. All around the Med. I deserve a medal for the hardship.” Keir sounded dry, but Charles could picture how he so often was lately when they video-called—relaxed and loved and happy.

“Such a sacrifice,” Charles joked but his ribs constricted, his heart swelling. He hid that with a put-upon huff. “It’s fine. I’ll just move in now instead.” There was no time like the present. “Call me when you get back?”

“I’ll call you before then,” Keir said, indignant. “I’ve got a week in Monaco on business before I meet up with the others.Then we’ll be away for as long as the Haven crew enjoy it. Might be weeks, but could be longer. Maybe we could fly you out to join us? Can’t have you going cold turkey.”

It was another reminder of what George had told Charles.

You’ve got to let him go.

Charles said goodbye, wondering if, for once, George might have been right.

* * *

The car parkemptied while Charles thought, his phone in his hand the whole time. As the last car left, he drew in a deep breath and texted his brother.

Charles: I got the job. I’ll be here until the school year ends.

His answer came much sooner than he expected.

George: Ah. Congrats, I suppose.

George: Had hoped we could get stuck into that project together. Don’t really want to start it without you.

That was a first that Charles didn’t quite know what to do with. George ruined it with his next comments.

George: But I’ll probably see you sooner, given your track record.

George: I know you’re not a fan of commitment, but I’m holding you to helping me with the folly.

Charles didn’t reply. He drove around the main school building and turned into to the courtyard where he parked. He wrestled his case out of the Defender’s back doors as the door to the stables opened.

Hugo stood in the same spot as Charles had last seen him, surprised, but not, Charles was relieved to notice, outwardly unhappy. He strode towards the car, smiling, but in a reminder that appearances could be deceptive, he stumbled, lurching forwards.

Charles only just managed to catch his arm to steady him.

“I’m okay,” Hugo said, still unbalanced. “You can let go.”

“Dammit.” Charles said, trying to lighten the moment. “And there I was thinking that you were about to return the favour.” He slid under Hugo’s shoulder to brace him. “You know, after I threw myself at you?”

“You didn’t throw yourself at me,” Hugo said more quietly. He worried at his lip before adding, “That was all me.”

There was no need for him to feel awkward. “Honestly, don’t worry about it. You kissed me. I’m not expecting a marriage proposal.”

“Not a fan of commitment then?” Hugo asked, taking a careful step, and wincing.

He couldn’t have known that was the last thing George had texted, but he must have noticed that Charles reacted. Hugo stopped. “Hey, no judgement. I’m no stranger to commitment issues, am I?” he said, as if the crisis about his calling somehow equated to Charles flitting between beds and temp jobs.

They were nothing alike.

Nothing.

“You’re not a commitment-phobe, who never settles, like me,” Charles insisted. “You’re listening, remember?” Hopefully, that little voice Hugo had mentioned would speak up sooner rather than later, because that smile of greeting he’d met Charles with was far too good to ration.

“Who says you’re commitment-phobic?” Hugo asked, sounding confused.

George.

No, that wasn’t fair.

“Everyone who’s ever met me.”

Apart from Keir, of course, his one aberration. He tried to make light of it as they took a few slow, hobbling steps towards the stable. “You really could try being more committed to using your walking stick, you know. Not that I’m complaining about getting up close and personal with you again.”

Maybe that was a bit full on, because Hugo started to pull away.

“Hold up,” Charles ordered, and surprisingly, Hugo did, his arm settling across his shoulder once more. “All I meant was that it’s not often I get to help someone over the age of four or five. You’re making me feel very useful. Almost like a functioning adult. Makes a very nice change.”

Hugo’s expression tightened.

Pain, Charles guessed, not sure if it was physical, or the mention of functioning adults while Hugo still struggled with whatever had happened to him. He spied his stick close to the doorway, still propped against the coat rack. Charles grabbed it. “There you go. Lean on that so you don’t have to stay close enough to catch my cooties.”

“Cooties?” And there was a fragment of a smile.

“Cooties. Chlamydia. I don’t discriminate.”

Hugo did move away then to take his stick, but only to turn back and clasp Charles with his free hand. “I don’t care about your cooties. And I’m pretty sure we’d have to get a lot closer than this before Chlamydia’s a worry.”

“Yes, and with a lot less clothes on.” Charles remembered who he spoke to and snapped his mouth shut, but Hugo let out a bark of laughter.

“Any time you want to go ahead and forget the whole holy thing is fine by me. Ordinary person, remember? And anyone who calls you commitment-phobic can’t have seen you around children,” Hugo said. His grip on Charles lasted, perhaps trying to press what he’d said into his skin. “Now, what are you doing back here? Did you leave something behind?”

Of course, Charles had returned too fast for Luke to have spoken with him. Would he have been blunt and told Hugo that he needed a minder? Or would he have found another way to soften the truth that he was worried about him? Because he had been, Charles thought. Worried enough that any company for his friend would be better than none.

Charles hedged, not lying, but aware the truth he told was partial. “Luke’s keeping me to help Ruth until he finds someone better.” He looked back at the suitcase he’d abandoned by the Defender. “So if what you said about preferring company was bullshit, get ready to regret it.”

“You’re staying?”

How could he have ever seen Hugo’s face as frozen?

As plain?

As nothing special compared to the type of men who usually caught his fleeting attention?

This version of him was arresting. Compelling. Charles watched so much more than Hugo’s smile grow—he saw his gaze warm up, as if pain no longer nipped him. And Charles felt a flush of something warming him too, far more than the late afternoon sun they stood in, spreading the longer Hugo watched him.

“That’s good news,” Hugo said quietly as if someone might overhear them.

“Is it?” For some reason, the truth of that mattered more than Charles could have predicted. “Really? Even after….” He wet his lips, and saw Hugo follow the sweep of his tongue tip.

“Yes,” Hugo said with the same conviction he’d used to reassure Tor that he too was wanted. “It’s the best news I’ve had in ages.”

“Are you quite sure?” Charles said, somehow strangled at the strength of this welcome. “It’ll mean me being in your space. Leaving used teabags on the draining board in your kitchen. Taking up half of your sofa. Stealing your underwear when I forget to do my laundry.”

“Good luck with that,” Hugo said, amusement right there on his surface. “Spent time training with the army, remember?” He leaned close and whispered, “Maybe I go commando.”

Charles swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

Hugo didn’t seem to notice. He stood aside and said, “Welcome, Charles.”

“I’ll grab my case.” Charles jogged across the courtyard and wheeled it over while Hugo watched him, aware that the same tingle as earlier was back.

He was there because Luke had worried about his friend, he reminded himself.

So why did Charles feel as if he might be the one in trouble?