Page 5 of Strawberry Moon

“She only met me for two seconds. It’s probably best we stick at that. I have a personality better suited to speed dating.”

“She makes quick judgements, and for how vague she can be, she’s irritatingly right most of the time.”

We walk up the stone steps and come into a big airy hall with a carved wooden staircase.

There’s a huge bowl of roses on a table that offer a sweet scent.

Loud barking makes me jump, and a door opens to my right revealing a tall man with broad shoulders.

There are three Jack Russell dogs at his heels.

They instantly bound over to Harry. He crouches, laughing as they climb over him, licking him and whining happily as their bodies contort in welcome poses.

I look at him affectionally. His wavy hair is messy and there’s a trail of dog slobber over one cheek, but he’s never looked more beautiful to me.

A throat clears and I realise the man is watching me. “Hello,” I offer.

Dressed in old cord trousers and a jumper, he has greying hair, a grey-speckled, bushy beard, and blue eyes. I’m sure this is Harry’s dad.

He comes forward. “Good afternoon.” His voice is deep and booming. “You must be James.”

“No, darling,” Holly says as she comes into the hallway. “We got it wrong. This is Clemo, known as Clem, and he is…”

Harry gets to his feet. “Erm this is my b-boyfriend,” he says.

I go to his side, taking his hand and smiling winsomely.

“You don’t sound too sure,” his dad says.

I wink at him. “He’s just stunned at his good fortune to land such a catch.”

Holly snorts and his dad observes me, his eyes sparkling. “Doesn’t a Clem work for you, Harry?”

“This is him. Clem, this is my father Graham.”

Graham smiles at me. “Well, this is interesting. I’ve heard a lot about you, Clemo, known as Clem. Far more than I ever did about James.”

I gape at him. “Harry’s spoken about me?”

“Oh yes. A lot .”

I grimace. “Probably eighty per cent is hyperbole.”

He chuckles and the warm sound suddenly makes him seem more approachable. “Oh, I think not.” He grabs Harry into a hug, ruffling his hair. “How are you, my boy?”

“Fine, Dad.”

The two men separate and Holly steps forward. “Let me show you upstairs.”

“Mum, I lived here. I think I know the way,” Harry protests.

She waves a careless hand. “We had a bit of a change around after your sister moved out. Grab your bags, boys.”

We follow her up the staircase as Graham retreats back into the room he emerged from with the dogs following him.

“Dinner will be ready at six,” Holly says. “And Alistair says he’ll meet you for golf if you’ve got time before you go back.”

“My brother,” Harry says at my questioning look. “He’s terrible at golf, but I’m worse, so he always wants to play. I suspect he makes up the rules.”

I chuckle. “Why?”

“Because last time he said a ball landing on the main road outside the golf club meant he’d won.”

“You should play Monopoly with my sister. She hit me with the board last time. It took ages to get the imprint of the little car out of my cheek and I found half of Mayfair down my shirt later on.”

Holly laughs and then comes to a stop by an old oak door. “You two are in here,” she says, and we follow her into the room.

It’s an airy room with a big window looking out over fields.

The window is open, letting in the scent of freshly cut grass.

A sofa is positioned in front of an old stone fireplace, but my attention is immediately drawn to, and stays with, the oak four-poster bed.

I look at Harry who is gazing around with a confused look on his face.

“So, you’ve put Clem in here. Where am I sleeping, Mum?”

She’s humming and rearranging the vase of pink stocks on the table, but she looks up at his question. “What do you mean, darling?”

Harry gestures at the room. “Where am I sleeping?”

“Erm, in here with Clem.” She looks between the two of us. “Shouldn’t you be?”

“ Pardon ?” Harry looks around wildly and runs his hand through his hair, making the strands stick up. “You don’t like us sleeping with our partners. Which is fine .” His voice is fast and panicked. “Clem and I don’t mind a bit, do we, Clem?”

“Absolutely not,” I say obediently.

Her face clears. “Oh, no need at all, boys.” She smiles at Harry. “I realised a few months ago that I was imposing het norms on you. After all, the homosexual community doesn’t like to conform to cis sensibilities.”

I’m vastly entertained by this and fight the urge to laugh, but Harry’s expression has become even more wild. “What on earth ? Where did you get all that from?”

His mum tuts. “Althea at the golf club. We’re the only two ladies who have gay sons, so we always have a nice chat in the bar while your father and her husband are on the course. You knew her son, Neil, didn’t you? I bet you never guessed he was gay.”

Harry coughs and mutters, “I might have had an inkling.”

“He’s married to two lovely men now.”

“What?”

“Oh yes. His husbands are big and very hairy. Althea says they’re moose.” She looks thoughtful. “What is the plural of moose, anyway?”

Harry stares at her. “Moose.”

“Good heavens, that’s easy. Good job you have a bookshop.”

“Yes, this moment is the exact reason I bought it.”

I bite my lip to hide my smile, and she drifts over to the bed to plump up the pillows. “So, Neil’s husbands Phil and Brad are moose.”

“Do you mean bears?” I offer.

Harry looks as though he’s been struck over the head with something heavy.

Her face lights up. “Maybe. It’s something that lives in Canada, anyway.

You’re so clever, darling. Thank you. I must have you on my team at Christmas for Trivial Pursuit.

Anyway, Neil and his husbands came to stay for Christmas, and Althea looked into getting one of those special beds they make in America for just these sorts of social situations, but her spare room isn’t very big, so they ended up with a small double and a camp bed instead. I believe they rotated.”

She pats Harry on the shoulder, offering him a vague smile. “See you at dinner, darling,” she murmurs and drifts out of the room, leaving us standing in silence which I promptly break by collapsing onto the bed in a fit of giggles.