Page 10 of The Fete of Summer (Tales of Crumbington #1)

“Nate, I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said, turning and seeing Nathan before his glance took in Jaymes.

This time, his face remained a mask, the award-winning smile fixed in place as he opened the door wide.

“Lovely that you could both make it. Hang your coats in the hall. My manager, Giorgio Costello, will show you to your places.”

Nathan recognised the short man. He had been at the Crumbington Arms lunch meeting, managing Clifton and herding him to his car, but the man’s face registered no recognition in return.

After briefly pointing out directions to the restroom and where to hang their jackets, he seated them at the far end of a long dining room.

Name cards had already been laid out, one labelled Nathan’s Guest. Nathan eyed Jaymes with concern until, catching Nathan’s reaction, he turned the name card inside out, produced a pen from his inside jacket pocket and wrote out his forename in beautiful cursive handwriting.

Nathan found himself warming to the adjacent company.

They had none of the brashness and polish of the other guests.

He liked how they interacted, one fussing a loose thread of silvering hair behind the other’s ear.

Nathan checked their name cards and found they also contained the word guest. Just as he’d predicted, Jaymes sat diagonally across from Nathan.

As they were being served Pinot Gris, the man next to Jaymes voiced Nathan’s thoughts.

“I believe we might be here to fill the cheap seats.”

“Suits me fine,” said Jaymes. “Always did prefer grown-up conversation.”

“Thank heavens,” said the man, brightening and clapping his hands together. “Looks like this might be a fun night after all. I’m Gallagher, by the way. And this is my hubby, Martin.”

“I’m his better half, naturally, “said Martin. “And we’re not in the entertainment industry. Gallagher and I run antique shops in the Oxford area and own a few holiday lets. We’ve been invited because the television production company is using our home as a location in the series Clifton’s shooting.

Giorgio—his manager—is a lucrative client and suggested our house as the perfect setting for a number of scenes. ”

“He’s not gay, is he? Giorgio?” asked Nathan.

“With six kids and two ex-wives, the possibility is remote. Although if he had been, I’m sure he’d be a lot wealthier than he is now, what with child support payments,” said Gallagher, overhearing their conversation and making Jaymes choke on his wine.

“How long have you been together?” asked Nathan.

“Thirty-eight years. We met in college.”

“Wow,” said Jaymes, his laughter dissolving. “That’s a life sentence.”

“Perspective, old man. It’s only a life sentence if you’re trapped somewhere you don’t want to be,” said Gallagher, winking at Nathan. Perhaps the gesture had been used in mirth, but the man had summed up Nathan’s unfulfilled life. “And we happen to be perfectly happy where we are.”

“How about you two?” asked Martin to Nathan. “I must say, you make a striking couple.”

“Two weeks. And an excellent turn of phrase,” said Nathan. “Bearing in mind the number of times of late that I’ve felt like striking him.”

Jaymes smiled sweetly at him while Martin chuckled, and Gallagher laughed aloud. Before Jaymes had a chance to defend himself, Clifton had risen from the head of the table.

“Gentlemen. Tonight, I’ve persuaded one of the winners of SuperChef UK to prepare a sumptuous four-course meal for us, including his award-winning braised duck leg with caramelised apples and finishing with his world-famous dessert, Chocolate Chernobyl. Enjoy the company.”

Nathan turned, startled, and Jaymes caught his eye and chuckled.

Maybe the code word thing hadn’t been such a good idea.

Courses came and went quickly, artfully presented but neither hearty nor satisfying.

Once dessert had been served—a white chocolate ball melted with hot caramel sauce and filled with cherry ice cream—the more loquacious guests took turns holding court, telling one anecdote after another.

Nathan had been chatting with Martin, not paying much attention until the host’s familiar voice drew their attention.

“Why don’t we ask a member of the public? Someone who’s not in the profession. How about you, Jaymes? Has the day of the screen idol been and gone?”

Nathan held his breath. Had Jaymes been paying attention?

Nathan was only partially aware of the subject, the hardships of the modern-day actor, especially after the drought caused by the pandemic.

Nathan wondered if Clifton had asked the question to put Jaymes on the spot. All heads turned their way.

“No, I don’t think the majority of paying audiences go to the cinema to see actors anymore, if that’s what you’re asking.

Few people pay to see a star vehicle like a Clifton O’Keefe film—no offence, Clifton.

Those days are over. They pay to see a particular product, a franchise film, or a fictional world of wizards, superheroes or animated characters made with millions of dollars of the latest CGI.

There are times I’ve left a cinema and if you’d asked me the name of the actor playing the role, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you.

And maybe that’s how it should be. Today’s professional actors do a job—a highly competent one, I grant you.

After all, it’s the overall sensory experience that prises people away from their streaming televisions or computer screens and into a cinema seat. ”

Nathan shuddered. Jayme’s blunt edict was met with cold silence.

“Brutal,” came a deep voice from somewhere down the table.

“But honest,” came another.

“Jaymes tends to speak his mind,” Nathan said to Clifton and the guests. When Jaymes turned to him and narrowed his eyes, Nathan quickly appended his statement. “It’s one of the things I like about him.”

A flicker of a smile creased a corner of Jaymes’ mouth.

“No need to justify, Nathan,” said one of the older actors whose name had escaped him. “I wholeheartedly agree with his assessment. I’ve always believed acting is synonymous with its origins, pure theatre, the type that is still largely uncontaminated by onstage computerised pyrotechnics.”

Polite agreement followed the man’s words.

When Nathan peered across the table, Gallagher leant into Jaymes and whispered something to him, making Jaymes chuckle.

Nathan realised how much he was enjoying the evening.

Had he come alone, he would have had little in common with most of the guests.

When the serving staff began collecting plates, Clifton stood up again and addressed the table.

“While the kitchen prepares a selection of after-dinner delights, I thought we’d all play a table game to keep us amused. I have a pile of fortune cookies in front of me, and each has a question inside. One for each of us. Consider this a truth game, and the best answer wins an after-dinner mint.”

A collective but lighthearted moan issued from around the room. Clifton broke the first of the biscuits with his fist. When he pulled out the piece of paper and read aloud, his eyes gleamed with playfulness. He addressed the older man to his right.

“Brock. This first one’s for you. In the bedroom department, what’s your favourite position?”

“At my age, dear? Horizontal.”

Laughter bubbled around the table. Nathan’s heart sank.

Public quick-wittedness had never been his thing.

Jaymes would undoubtedly be a hit, but Nathan’s answer would fall short.

One by one Clifton asked cookie questions, with each answer becoming progressively more humorous or lewd and laughter growing louder.

Finally Clifton aimed his question at Nathan, who felt dryness in his mouth.

“Nathan,” said Clifton before turning to those gathered. “In case I haven’t mentioned, Nathan and I grew up together in nearby Crumbington. He’s now the village baker. And my question for you, Nathan, is, what’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever been asked to do?”

Clifton’s smirk was not lost on Nathan. A number of guests chuckled at the question.

Nathan’s mind went blank. He knew his brow had furrowed.

Did he have an amusing ditty he could draw on from childhood?

Was there something a room full of actors would at least be interested in, something that would live up to the entertaining responses of others?

“Maybe that’s a question you should ask him in six months, once the Crumbington summer fête comes around,” said Jaymes.

“And why is that?” asked Clifton.

Jaymes grinned and nodded at Nathan, who sighed and rolled his eyes at having been backed into a corner.

“What Jaymes means is that by then, I’ll have completed a naked photoshoot. Along with the rest of the Crumbington football team. We’re producing a team calendar for the summer fête.”

This time the silence was thick with intrigue, with all eyes fixed on Nathan.

“Naturally, sales proceeds will go to a local charity,” he added.

“Then you’d better sign me up for a copy,” said one of the men.

“I’ll take ten,” said another.

In the meantime, Clifton frowned at Nathan and mouthed the single-word question ‘really?’ to which Nathan responded with a smile and a simple nod.

“Giorgio will ensure you’re kept informed once the calendar goes on sale. Nice one, Nate. Now, on with the game. This one’s for Jaymes, Nathan’s boyfriend. What’s the longest relationship you’ve had?”

“None of your business,” said Jaymes immediately, causing people around to chuckle.

“You should give that one to Martin or Gallagher,” offered Nathan, trying to bail out his friend. For a cold moment, he wondered if Jaymes had ever been in a relationship.

“Come on, Jaymes. Everyone else has been a sport.”

“Five weeks,” said Jaymes emphatically.