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Jack walked from Aversham station to one of Thomas’s many safe houses and still took countersurveillance measures because they were ingrained into him.

No one else had got off the train, but it was possible Thomas’s house was being watched, so Jack detoured via a public footpath, crossed private land and finally climbed over a fence at the rear of the property.

He thought he could guess Thomas’s response to what he was going to tell him. But it made no difference. Jack was taking Zeph on holiday.

The back door opened when he tried the handle and he realised Thomas had seen him coming. As Jack went into the kitchen, Thomas shouted, “Wipe your feet. Your shoes are covered in mud.”

Jack looked down, smiled and took them off. “Want a drink?” he called.

“I’ll have a coffee.”

When Jack heard the bark, he almost dropped the coffee pot. What the hell?

He started the machine before he went into the lounge. On the floor by Thomas’s feet was a medium-sized, grey and white dog. The moment he saw Jack, he ran towards him wagging his tail. It wasn’t a breed Jack recognised. He bent down and stroked him.

“Name?” Jack asked.

“Django.”

“What is it?”

“A dog.”

“Ha!” All the time he’d lived with Thomas, he’d refused to get a dog. “Some alien breed?”

“Undoubtedly.”

Jack went back to get the coffees and Django stuck to his heels. He followed him back when he returned to Thomas.

“Where’s he come from?” Jack asked.

“A sack.”

Jack sighed.

“Some sick bastard had tied three puppies in a sack and thrown them away. I heard barking when I was out for a run and I took them to the vet’s in the village. Two died. Django survived.”

“You always said you didn’t want a dog.”

“I know. I didn’t. But look at him.”

Django was trying to bite his tail and fell over.

“He looks intelligent,” Jack said.

Thomas glared. “He might grow up to be a good guard dog.”

“He’d probably lick a burglar to death.”

“Hmm.”

Django jumped up onto the couch next to Jack. “Is he allowed?”

“No, but he takes no notice of me.”

Jack picked the dog up, put it down on the floor and said, “No,” in a firm voice. Django cocked his head and jumped up again.

“Nor of you, apparently.”

“What are you going to do with him when you’re away?”

“Penny, a nice lady at the vet’s, said she’d look after him for me. I’m such a lovely, kind-hearted guy for having given him a home.”

“Well, you gave me a home.”

Django shuffled so that his nose was against Jack’s leg.

“He likes attention and affection,” Thomas said.

Jack hoped that meant Thomas was kind to him.

“How did it go?” Thomas asked.

“It went.”

“The police seem to have no clue.”

“No.”

“The Americans are delighted. The money’s made its usual convoluted journey to your account.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Are you going to talk to me about Zeph?”

Tell you about how much I like him? That he makes me laugh? How he makes me feel? How hard he makes me come? “We’re going on a road trip around Europe for two months.” Jack watched Thomas carefully and saw a small twitch of his jaw. Annoyance.

“I’d advise against it.”

Maybe the closest he’d get to telling Jack he couldn’t go. Jack was old enough to do what he wanted, but Thomas knew how much Jack respected him, how much he’d prefer not to disappoint him. If Thomas outright told him not to go, what would he do? Jack hoped he wasn’t put in that position.

“He’s aware it’s only for the summer,” Jack said.

Thomas raised one eyebrow. “Is he?”

“Yes.”

“You know you’ll put him in danger.”

Not necessarily. “If I do, I’ll protect him.”

“You can’t be with him all the time. You need to be careful. Follow the rules.”

Jack nodded. That was as near as he’d get to Thomas being okay with this.

Over the next few days, Jack and Thomas took Django for several walks.

He was a sweet dog but Jack was still surprised Thomas had kept him.

They cooked together, watched films and went to buy Jack a car.

They settled on an Audi A6 in gunmetal grey.

Seven years old but only one former owner and the mileage was low.

Jack intended to give it to Zeph when he left.

He booked the channel crossing for mid-afternoon the following Wednesday, and also booked accommodation for that night in Villers-sur-mer in Normandy.

A three-hour drive. After that, they’d decide on their destination together.

Jack arranged to park the car in Cambridge.

He didn’t like booking things but he was confident his ID was secure, both driving licence and passport.

Not Jack Steel, but Jack Morris. He hoped he wouldn’t have to explain that to Zeph.

Jack couldn’t operate with second-class forgeries.

Advances in technology made it harder and harder to get documents he could rely on.

Forgers had to have the ability to clone chips and take retinal photographs.

In truth, he could never totally rely on any fake document but it was worth paying a premium to get the best.

He packed a small bag to take back with him. He always travelled light regardless of how long he’d be away. The rule was not to take anything you weren’t prepared to leave behind. He could buy whatever else he might need. But he did take his tux, dress shirt, shoes and bow tie.

“Do you regret not going to university?” Thomas asked. “Those short periods at colleges in the States were as much as we could risk.”

Jack wanted to say he hadn’t been bothered, but it wasn’t entirely true.

“I wish you could have gone,” Thomas said quietly.

It was a rare admission from him.

“Be extra vigilant while you’re with him.” He gripped Jack’s upper arm and squeezed.

Jack nodded.

By the time he reached Zeph’s place, carrying his bag and his formal wear, it was gone seven. Zeph opened the door and beamed at him. He wondered if a little bit of Zeph had thought he might not come back.

“Martin and Paulo took almost everything.” Zeph headed upstairs. “I’ve packed for the trip. Just a small bag. Maybe it’s worth taking the sheets and pillows with us in case we have to rough it. And towels.”

Zeph opened his door. Jack dropped his bag, put his suit carrier over a chair and pulled Zeph into his arms.

“I missed you,” Zeph whispered.

“I missed you too.”

Then Jack showed him how much he’d missed him. 69ing was a first for both of them.

The next day, they didn’t get out of bed until lunchtime, and only then because they needed food.

“I think we should iron our shirts,” Zeph said. “Mine’s all creased.”

“Do you have an iron?” Jack looked around the largely bare room.

“Downstairs.”

“Okay. We can do that. Have a coffee, then find somewhere to have lunch.”

There was a guy in the kitchen cooking cheese on toast and he turned when they walked in.

“Hi, Lester,” Zeph said. “This is Jack.”

“Hello.” Lester glanced at the shirts Zeph was holding. “You going to John’s Ball?”

“Yes.” Zeph put up the ironing board and switched on the iron.

Jack busied himself making coffee. “Would you like one?” he asked Lester.

“I still have half a cup. When did you get the tickets?”

“Last week,” Zeph said.

“I thought they’d clamped down on scalpers.”

“The price was fair including the name change,” Jack said.

“The prices are ridiculous,” Lester muttered. “The balls are elitist, overpriced and pointless.”

“Thanks a lot, Lester,” Zeph said. “Have you ever been to one?”

“No.”

Zeph shrugged. “It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. I know not everyone can afford to go. Yes, they possibly are overpriced but they’re fun. And Jack paid.”

Lester rolled his eyes. “Fine. You made your point.”

Back in Zeph’s room, they hung up the shirts next to the suits.

“I should have ironed my own. Sorry,” Jack said.

“It’s fine.”

“Lester’s a ray of sunshine.”

“The irony is, he has more money than anyone else in this house. He’s studying human, social and political sciences.

He wants to be a member of parliament. Actually, I think he wants to be prime minster.

He objects to anything fun on principle, but he’s generous and kind, so of all my housemates, I like him the most.”

They walked into town to find somewhere to eat and Jack let Zeph pay.

“Did you get the work done that you needed to?” Zeph asked.

“Yes. I went to see Thomas as well. He helped me pick a car. I’ve paid for parking until Wednesday morning.”

“There’s no point taking it out of wherever you’ve put it because you’ll never find somewhere to park in town.”

Jack chuckled. “That sounds like a challenge.”

Zeph sighed. “Why do I have this feeling that a parking place would magically open up when you needed it? I remember my mum once taking me out and when she couldn’t find anywhere to park, she drove home again.

” He laughed. “Mind you, I also remember that unless there was a two-car length space, she didn’t even attempt to parallel park.

Once, when we were in a multi-story in Manchester, she had to reposition twice to get the car up the ramp to the next level.

We had to go up four levels to find a space! She hated driving.”

“I put you on the insurance for the Ferrari.”

The chunk of fish fell off Zeph’s fork. “You’re joking.”

“Yes, it’s an Aston Martin.”

“You’re still joking.”

Jack laughed.

They helped each other fasten their cufflinks—which took longer than it should have done.

Then their bow ties—which took three attempts to get right.

All the time Jack was thinking of how much he wanted Zeph naked, but also how good he looked in his suit.

It fit him perfectly, as if it had been made for him.

But he’d seen the label and knew it was from a high street store.

Zeph still looked spectacular. Jack took hold of his hips and pulled him close.

“You look fantastic,” Zeph said.

Jack nuzzled his neck. “I was just going to say that to you.”