Page 18 of These Old Lies

Charlie had invited him to go to a museum. He shouldn’t assume it was anything more than the tentative friendship that started at the Charing Cross pub and continued at Claridge’s.

Ned took a deep breath, trying to ground himself in the present and hide his nerves. If he wanted Charlie in his life, he couldn’t go about falling apart at random war memories.

Charlie waved to him. “Hurry up,” he called out. “I already got us tickets, and it looks like the galleries will be fairly quiet tonight.”

???

They ended up in the Indian galleries, surrounded by ornate, curved daggers, sculptures of dancing elephants, and embroidered patterns of swirling ferns. Charlie wasn’t lying about the galleries being quiet; they were the only two people Ned had seen in the wing.

Charlie leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, “This whole place reminds me of the hidden caves with buried treasure from theBoy’s Ownstories.”

Ned chuckled, the observation too perfect. “Treasure Islandwas always my favourite. Broke my mother’s favourite lamp jumping from sofa to sofa pretending I was fending off natives.”

Was that where he’d first gotten his taste of wanting to be a hero? A childish fantasy.

“I broke a clock,” Charlie said, “Mum never believed the risk the pirates posed to her dining room. I trust you to have my back if those elephantscome to life and attack us.”

“Armed only with our wits, yet I’m confident we will resist.”

“Spoken like a true Jim Hawkins, without whom the whole adventure would collapse.”

“If I’m Jim, who does that make you?” Ned asked even as he reminded himself that this was not flirting.

“Long John Silver, obviously. Swarthy and not to be trusted.”

The problem was, when Charlie teased him like that, it was all too similar to when it had meant something more. Ned needed to get them, needed to get himself, on safer ground. Which was probably why he allowed the ridiculously stupid words out of his mouth next. “You didn’t need to bring me to a museum, you know. I would have been perfectly happy with a pint at the pub.” He expected relief on Charlie’s face. A few jokes about Ned’s poshness.

Instead, Charlie backed away, the cosy chucking of only a minute before shattered.

“Oh, fuck off, Pinsent.” Charlie turned on his heel and walked off, leaving Ned dumbfounded amongst the pillaged treasures of India.

Ned gave himself a mental slap up the side of the head before he trotted after Charlie.

Like all Victorian buildings, the V&A was both large and filled with hallways, staircases, and sharp turns. Yet Charlie never paused, never hesitated, as he crossed the courtyard and darted into another wing. If Ned hadn’t been following Charlie’s brown jacket, he would have been hopelessly lost. Charlie wasn’t, though.

Oh, bugger and damnation.Ned really was a complete idiot.

Charlie was examining a massive plaster cast of David in all his naked glory when Ned finally caught up with him.

“You’ve been here before,” Ned wheezed, more out of breath than he wanted to admit.

Charlie's eyes remained locked on David. “You honestly think I would take you anywhere to impress you?”

“It sounds especially stupid when you set it out like that.”

Charlie opened his mouth to speak and then clamped it shut. Ned was tempted to continue his apology, but what he owed Charlie now was patience. Ned let his eyes drift along the elaborately carved scrolls and spirals of a mediaeval arch beside the David.

Eventually Charlie said, “The V&A is one of my favourite places in London. Art from all over the empire. Things you couldn’t imagine if you’d never seen it before.” There was a wistfulness in Charlie’s voice that Ned couldn't remember ever hearing before. “When I came here the past few years, I would always be reminded of you.”

Ned groped for what to say in response. Apologising for being a pretentious arse felt inadequate. He told the truth instead. “I don’t like museums. Staring at old canvases and sculpture? Makes me want to gouge out my eyes.”

Charlie finally turned to look at Ned. “You aren’t just saying that?”

“I like my art modern and provocative. To blow up all the assumptions and presumptions that are found in a place like this.” Ned shrugged. “I had to look up the museum’s address.”

“They named the neighbourhood after it, Ned, it isn’t hard to find.” Charlie’s face broke out in a huge grin. “Well, in that case I’m going to have to give you the Charles Villiers' patented tour of the V&A.”

Ned forced a smile to his face; it wasn’t as if he hadn’t earned his punishment.