Page 14 of These Old Lies
Pemberton continued to smirk. “Don’t worry about what we’ve in store for our friend. Just looking after the solidarity of the officer's corps.”
Charlie would bet a month’s wages that whatever Ned was doing in that room, it didn’t involve a woman. Noble or not, sodomy was a court martial offense, and that was if the three drunks didn’t beat the life out of Ned right there and then. Considering their state, Charlie wouldn’t put it past them.
Sometimes when Charlie rushed into No Man’s Land, he found that time slowed down to moments of clarity and precision, where he was beyond thinking. This was one of those times.
He quickly made eye contact with the officers. “Enjoy your turn with the ladies, sirs. I’m going for mine.” And then he shoved his weight against the first door on his left, exactly where he had seen Ned go.
As he had guessed, the bolt didn’t hold and he found himself barging into Ned’s room with more force and less grace than he had anticipated. He slammed the door behind him.
“Charlie?! What the fuck?” Ned was shirtless but otherwise alone. “Are you drunk?”
Charlie shoved his hand against Ned’s mouth. “Will you shut up?!” Charlie hissed through clenched teeth. “I’m trying to save your arse!”
He loosened his hand slightly and Ned whispered angrily into his palm, “Save me from what? The rumour that I like to sleep in beds?”
Recognising that it wasn’t beyond the pale for Pemberton and co. to barge into the room just like he had, Charlie shoved a dresser up against the door. “I may not be drunk, but your officer friends are, and they thought it would be a lark to come upstairs and see what you were doing.”
Comprehension dawned on Ned’s face.
“And you thought I was up here committing sins against nature.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Was this to be my warning to make myself scarce?”
“Too late, they were already on the stairs when I ran into them. But they didn’t know what room you were in, so I made a big show of coming into this one looking for my own entertainment tonight. As long as I’m here, I think they won’t check this room, which sure is bloody awkward if you were expecting to meet someone.”
“I did have my own plans for tonight, but they didn’t involve… never mind. In any case, I’m extremely grateful that you came to my valiant rescue.” Ned nodded to an open bottle on the vanity. “Since you are stuck here with me for a while, do you at least want some wine?”
Ned didn’t wait for a response, pouring them both very generous glasses. He passed one to Charlie. “Cheers.”
Ned almost fell into the only chair in the room, which didn’t quite look up to the task of supporting a man of his size. Ned had none of his normal ramrod straight posture, and the lines on his face aged him a decade. “I don’t think, I mean, if you were up here, I bet you had your own expectations for tonight, and as appreciative as I am, I’m not really up to anything.”
In the haze of wanting to protect Ned, the idea of anything sexual hadn’t even occurred to Charlie. “Already got what I needed this evening. Although, do you mind if I sit on the bed? I’m beyond knackered.”
Ned waved across the simple room. “Make yourself at home.”
Charlie let himself sink into the mattress. He suspected that, under normal circumstances, he would have found it lumpy and expressed strong concernsabout what other vermin might be sharing it. Tonight, it felt like an indescribable luxury to lean against the headboard with his legs spread out. He sipped the wine. This was good stuff; it didn’t burn on the way down like the drinks they sold downstairs. Charlie imagined fancy people drank wine like this in Kensington restaurants.
Charlie stared up at the ceiling for a minute, counting water stains. “It’s none of my business, so feel free to tell me to fuck off, but what were your plans for tonight?”
Ned was quiet for a moment. “Do you realise I can’t remember the last time someone other than you called me by my name?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Lieutenant Pinsent is the very model of an officer. He talks football to the men but doesn’t indulge in dirty jokes. He has a stiff upper lip and is unfailingly polite. He follows the officers’ handbook and does what it takes to serve his country and stick it to the Germans. And he’s not me.”
“You think you’re the only one who finds himself a different man in this war? I wasn’t doing trench raids in Holborn,” Charlie said.
“When you were talking with your friends downstairs, you were the same man you are in London, albeit wearing a uniform. You make the same jokes, you like the same drinks, you hold the same politics. You might be sitting in a trench in France, but you are still Charlie Villiers. I’m just pretending, one old lie after another.”
“Old lies about what?” Charlie felt horribly out of his depth, but also like this might be the only time in his life he would get to have a conversation like this—a glimpse into what the war was making them become.
“Lying about being a perfect member of the upper classes who serves King and country and murders Fritz in the middle of the night without a second thought. Acting like I believe in preserving a social order more than showing mercy. Pretending to find it natural to keep myself at a distance from every human around me because an officer can’t show any connection with his men.”
Ned cracked a wry smile.
“Lying about being a hell of a lot less queer than I am. I feel like I amwearing a gas mask twenty-four hours a day to keep up the illusion, and I just… can’t… breathe,” Ned’s voice broke. “So you asked what I wanted to do tonight. I was planning on spending the night alone. But as the person I think I still am.”
“Can’t you still be that person?”
Ned snorted. “That’s the irony of it all, of course. If the other officers saw me like this… well, let’s say you were right to bust in.”