“Don’t tell anyone, but I like bird watching.”

  “Oh no, you’re a twitcher.”

  “I am not, you brat. I like watching them, not ticking them off a damn list.”

  “Good, then you can name me all the ones we see today.”

  “You’re on.”

  It was one of the gentlest, happiest days Steve had spent with anyone else in over ten years. Luce changed into trousers because long skirts weren’t quite as comfortable for walking over fields and meadows. They walked on the heath for a couple of hours, and had morning tea once they had circled back to the Gospel Oak end. The day was warm without being too hot, the summer lingering on and likely to make the last August bank holiday very pleasant. Hannah was flying back the day after that. He spent some time thinking about what Luce had said. Maybe Steve should have mentioned he was bisexual before now, but it had never come up. His very few trysts had all been when Hannah was away in America, and since none of them had gone anywhere, there was no need to tell her about them. It wasn’t like his marriage had broken up over it or anything, though he’d never told Stella either.

  He’d have to give it some thought before he had that conversation. He thought Hannah would be okay with it, but you could never tell.

  He had to work at four, and he had a couple of things to do before he did, so he didn’t stay for lunch. “It’s usually quiet after the bank holiday,” he told Luce. “Might be able to swing a couple of full days off.”

  “Want to go away somewhere? We could hire a car. I’d pay, you can drive.” Luce had never learned, and in London that wasn’t a problem.

  “We can take my car. I’d love that, if Hannah doesn’t mind.”

  “Bring her along?”

  “I’ll think about it. I better go though.”

  Luce gave him a long, lingering kiss that made Steve wish he had time for one last session of love-making before he had to go to work, but he really didn’t. “See you soon. Carry the phone.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  Chapter 5

  Luce expected an uptick in interest at the gallery after the auction, and sure enough, when he turned up at the shop, he found Chun busy with customers. He even took a couple of enquiries himself, signing autographs for two poor but star-struck art students, and putting little sketches by his signature. Angela would let him know if there had been more interest from serious buyers—she would handle those through personal visits. He couldn’t display everything here, but she had a secure warehouse for her artist clients and a catalogue she could take to homes.

  Buzzing with energy after the night before and the lovely morning with Steve, Luce decided that he would start a series of much more personal images, exploring how he felt about being with someone he cared for so much, being so happy after years of struggle to reach a point where he could enjoy it. He spent some time in thought, making some rough sketches of his ideas, and considered that maybe this one might include small sculptures. He wasn’t as well known for his three-dimensional art as he was for his pictures, but he did love working in clay.

  By the end of the day he had a series of ideas worked out which he thought he could use, and he’d made some crude figures which he could size up in good clay later. He’d had to stop a couple of times to help Chun again, which meant a very busy day for Luce Sherwood Studios. He came out at five o’clock and found her still handling customers with three waiting. They didn’t manage to close until six.

  “If this keeps up, we might have to extend hours, Luce. Maybe even open on Sunday.” Chun accepted the tea he made her while she cashed up.

  “I don’t want to do that. But I guess we could hire another person for weekends, if you like. Is Jin looking for extra work?” Chun’s boyfriend worked as Luce’s framer, but he’d handled the retail side once or twice before.

  “I’ll ask. There have been a lot of comments on your Facebook page too. I’ve been struggling to get them all approved. I’ll do more tonight.”

  “Don’t work at home, darling, unless you’re clocking the hours.”

  “I won’t.” She looked at her watch. “Better run. Can you lock up?”

  “Of course.” He kissed her cheek. “Bye, and thank you.”

  He took his series sketches home to think about. That led to thinking about Steve, and how he felt about him. He couldn’t help noticing that Steve never used the word ‘love’ around him, which meant that to Steve, it was a word with weight, that love was a feeling much stronger than simple affection and attraction. Luce believed that too, though he used the word much more casually. As he drank a glass of wine and looked through his drafts, he thought that maybe he was at that point. And what did that mean, when Steve was a man with a daughter and a house of his own? Did they continue as they were? Should Luce ask Steve to move in, or the other way around? Would it be convenient, or better?

  And how did Steve feel about him? In every way but the word, he showed how much he cared and worried about Luce, how he thought of him, and wanted him. Did the lack of a word mean that much?

  Luce wouldn’t fret about it. There was no need. Neither of them were unhappy, or looking for someone else. They’d made no commitments that could be broken, no promises to ignore. All that either of them had offered was company when it was available, wonderful sex, and friendship. Wasn’t that enough? Wasn’t that more than he’d often had before?

  He pulled up the photo of the two of them the night before. Chalk and cheese came to mind, except for the identical smiles. Steve looked so happy to be with him. Luce kissed his phone, then put it away. Time to do a little work.

  He was woken the next morning by the phone ringing. He went out to the living room to answer it. “Hello?”

  “Luce, it’s Angela. Listen, I wanted to catch you before you checked your emails or anything...there’s been a bit of nastiness overnight about the auction. One of the shock jocks had a go at you for being a rich bastard lecturing other rich bastards about charity, and you moaning about having to donate art. The Mail is in on it. They dug up an early photo of you, and they’re claiming you were a drug addict and prostitute while you were homeless. It’s all crap, but there’s been a few things said on line, on the Twitter account and your Facebook. We’re dealing with it, so you don’t have to worry.”

  “I wasn’t a drug addict or a prostitute. Where did that come from?”

  “From your speech, I think. It’s probably a Tory pushback, dirty tricks and all that. Don’t worry about it. Just don’t get upset if there’s anything in your mail box. Delete it, don’t read it.”

  Luce’s stomach knotted. “All right. Thanks.”

  “You did brilliantly that night. Almost everyone agrees with me. Ignore the idiots who don’t. They don’t matter.”

  “No, they don’t. Are you coming over tomorrow?”

  “Yes, so I’ll see you then. Lunch, perhaps?”

  “That’d be good. Bye.”

  He hung up and sat. He supposed it was too much to hope for that there wouldn’t be any negative reaction. He’d expected some, but about his appearance, not what he’d said. He wished Steve was here. He could email him later and let him know.

  His mobile announced a message, so he dug it out of his satchel. It was from Steve. Just to say thinking of you, always proud of you. Steve.

  Luce’s eyes filled with tears. You know I love you to bits, don’t you?

  A reply a few seconds later. Yes. Me too. Don’t let the bastards grind you down.

  Did he mean that the way it sounded? Or was it just the way good friends said it? But his man was thinking of him, worrying about him. How could that ever be bad?

  Chun was already at the shop when Luce arrived. “I heard from Angela about the nastiness,” he said. She would never tell him otherwise.

  “Oh. Yeah, it’s been gross. I had to delete so many comments overnight. And there was a note under the shop door. I threw it away.”

  “Good for you. It’s probably just a small group of people making it sound like they have massive support.”

  “The Daily Mail has a story—”

  Luce held up his hand. “Don’t tell me. And don’t believe it. I have no secrets, Chun.”

  “I know.” She gave him a sad smile. “I hope they don’t find out about me.”

  He took her hands. “Do you want some time off?”

  “God, no. If we close now, they’ll say you’re running away.”

  “Yes, they will.” He kissed her cheek. “So just ignore them. I’ll be here all day. Leave the door open, and just yell if anyone gives you a problem or you’re worried. I mean it, even if it’s a false alarm. Use the button if you have to.”

  “Yes, I will. Thank you.”

  “No, thank you. I couldn’t do this without you.”

  Chun began setting up the sales desk for the day. “Jin is happy to work in the shop if you want him to. He doesn’t mind either way.”

  “Let’s just get past this crap before we decide. The extra business may not last.”

  “Not with summer nearly over, no.”

  “I’ll make us some tea while you open up.”

  Luce pulled out the series sketches and stared at them while he drank his tea, but the mood had gone, replaced by anger and frustration at the bloody-minded evil of some people. So he decided to use those emotions to draw some provocative cartoons instead. He never sold or displayed such work—at least he hadn’t up to now. Maybe he should think about doing that.

  He worked all morning and into the afternoon, switching from the cartoons to proper sketches after a bit. Still not saleable work, but it helped defuse the anger bomb inside him. Chun was busy but there were no incidents he needed to handle. Only tourists, and one art buyer who bought three pictures, which was a lovely bonus.

  “Luce?”

  He turned and grinned at the man walking over to him, carrying a cold bag. “Steve! I thought you were working all day.”

  “Four hour break.” He kissed Luce and hugged him. “I parked close by and thought I could fit a visit in. Had lunch?”

  “No, but I don’t want to leave the workshop today in case of any problems.”

  Steve held up the cold bag. “You don’t have to.”

  “You are the best, you know that?”

  “Yes, I do,” Steve said, looking smug.

  He’d even brought extra for Chun, who put up the ‘Closed for Lunch’ sign and joined them out back. Steve hugged her too. “Are you okay? No one giving you grief?”

  “Not me,” she said. “But the things they’re saying about Luce are disgusting.”

  He turned to Luce. “You know, we offer intercept services for mail and online stuff just for this kind of situation. You could use it for a couple of days if Chun wants a break.”

  “Do you, darling?”

  She pursed her lips. “No, it’s okay. We always have a few homophobes dropping in to tell us how shameful Luce is. It’s just a bit more than usual, that’s all. They’re not remotely clever about it.”

  “If you change your mind,” Luce said, “I’ll get Steve to arrange it.”

  “Bloody Mail,” Steve said. “They can’t run with the ‘ooh, he’s a queer’ angle so they make up shit and know their readers will get the real message.”

  “Same old, same old.” But it was nice to have Steve to vent to. “When do you have to go back to work?”

  “I need to be in Kew by seven with the car, so I need to leave here no later than six. I could run you home, if you like.”

  Luce frowned at him. “Did you come all the way over here because you wanted to make sure I got home all right?”

  “No. Well, maybe.”

  Chun grinned at Steve. “You are so into him.”

  “I am.”

  But Luce didn’t find it as cute as Chun did. “I can look after myself, you know.”

  “I know. I just...wanted to be supportive. Be a good boyfriend and all that.”

  Luce relaxed. “You are. You always are. But you can’t always be around and this lot never go away. It’s only the volume that changes.”

  “If you don’t want a lift, I can offer one to Chun,” Steve said, giving her a cheeky smile. “I’m sure she’s not proud.”

  “Thanks, Steve, but I live on completely the other side of London from Kew, so that would be a silly thing for you to do. Luce, just go home with him for a change.”

  Feeling just a bit imposed on, Luce agreed. “But I’m not going until the shop shuts, so if that’s later than six, you’ll leave on your own.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Another scrawled note had been shoved under the door when Chun went back to open up after lunch. Luce told her to chuck it like the first one, but Steve disagreed. “It’s evidence, and it’s handwritten. Keep it just in case.”

  “I don’t want that thing in the shop,” Luce said.

  “Then give it to me. I’ll keep it in a file. And any others that you get.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen, Steve. They’re gutless, you know that.”

  “Yeah, I do, but just indulge me on this? Please?”

  Steve gave him puppy eyes and Luce sighed. “Whatever you like.”

  He couldn’t actually work while Steve was around, though Steve offered to go away for a bit. Luce liked him being there more than he wanted to work on his political pictures. He showed them to Steve, who thought they were clever and biting, but, “they’re asking for trouble, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, they are, and I don’t really want a name for myself as a political artist. I don’t have enough talent for that. I’m just letting off steam.”

  “I could give you another way to do that, if you like?” Steve rubbed himself suggestively against Luce, and the temptation was almost too much to bear.

  “I can’t, love. I need to keep an ear out for Chun in the shop.”

  “Okay. Want me to sit over at the side to keep out of your way?”

  “No, I have other things to do. You can watch, keep me company.”

  His irritation over being nannied faded quickly, because Steve was, as always, a considerate companion. He sat and listened as Luce vented a bit more about being attacked on false grounds, and how it was disgusting that people could still use such accusations as if being addicted or a sex worker was morally wrong in the first place. Steve agreed, saying he’d met many while working as a police officer, and the real criminals were the pimps and dealers. Drug addicts were victims, and prostitutes were too often as well.

  But Steve managed to guide Luce off that topic and onto the series he had planned while still glowing with happiness. Luce showed Steve the sketches, and seeing them again reminded Luce of how good he’d felt. Steve stoked that feeling again, holding Luce as he displayed the drawings, nibbling his ear and being sweet.

  “I wanted to remember that,” Luce murmured. “I wanted to keep being that happy forever.”

  “If I could, I’d make it happen,” Steve murmured into his ear.

  “You’re a big part of it, you know.”

  “Hope so. How long do you think it will take to do these?”

  “A week or two if I did nothing else. Longer if I decide on the sculptures. Reproductions of those sell well but they’re expensive to make. I wouldn’t do it for that reason.”

  “Just do whatever feels good. I can feel you in your art. I wouldn’t if you forced yourself to make something.”

  “You’re a darling, you really are. I’d love you even more if you made me some tea.”

  Steve grinned and kissed him, before heading to the kitchen. “You must have a bladder like a camel’s. What is it with you and tea?”

  “Replaced my alcohol addiction. Shona’s idea back in the day. I couldn’t use coffee because I’d end up looking like someone had plugged me into the mains.”

  “Tea’s harmless enough. I don’t dare drink too much before I work. You don’t get many chances to pee.”

  “Poor baby.”

  “I can feel your sympathy from here,” Steve said from the kitchen door way. Luce blew him a kiss.

  They left the shop at five-thirty, the rush of customers from the day before not repeating itself. Even with the traffic, Steve had Luce at the apartment block by six. “Thank you, love,” Luce said. “Don’t do this again, okay?”

  “Not even if I want to, just for me?”

  “Only if you can stay and have sex.”

  “Okay.” Steve kissed him. “Be careful?”

  “Dressed like this? I’m always careful. See you next week.”

  Luce had to admit that Steve had succeeded in helping him go home in a far better mood than he’d left that morning, but he disliked that his lover had gone to all that trouble for something which wasn’t a problem at all. Luce had been beaten up for being gay a couple of times while he was homeless, and had a continuing issue with garbage flung at him through social media, and once with real garbage slung at the shop just after he’d opened it. Much as Luce didn’t trust the police, he felt they would be on top of anything worse resulting from a stupid shock jock trawling for listeners. His emails that morning had not contained a single abusive message, but over a dozen from gay and trans mates and friends of theirs offering support. He was surrounded by love and Steve had helped him remember that.

  Tomorrow was the Saturday of the long weekend. Traditionally that could either mean they were frantically busy or very quiet, depending on the weather. Since it was still fine and warm, he predicted it to be a slow one. He called Chun, still on the Tube home. “Hey, darling, why don’t you take tomorrow off? Full pay, of course? I can manage the shop. It’ll do me good.” And since he’d have to be there anyway, he may as well mind the gallery for a change.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course. I should have decided sooner. Enjoy the long weekend properly.”

  “You’re the best, Luce. Jin wanted to take me away for the day, and now he can.”

  “Tell him to look after you. See you Tuesday.”

  And it wouldn’t hurt for people to see the artist around the place either, he thought. It would be a bit of a strain with his Talent, but so long as it was as quiet as he thought it would be, he’d be fine.