Page 24 of These Old Lies
Ned stiffened at the use of the derogatory slang. Charlie might be working class, but he had never been thuggish, in bed or out. Not that Ned could disclose any of that to Freddy. “Charlie and I are old friends. There’s no first pass to take.”
Freddy looked at Ned curiously. “If he were inclined? Would you really refuse?”
Before Ned could open his mouth, Freddy continued, “I adore Hugh, weall do. But don’t think for a moment that we adore you any less, or that we don’t want you to take your own role on the stage instead of watching his.” Freddy stood on his tiptoes, kissed Ned on the cheek, and sauntered off to talk to other friends, taking Ned’s cocktail with him.
Ned was left feeling a bit stunned, not at all sure what Freddy had meant.
The downside of The Pillars was that it was relatively cramped, with tables and chairs squeezed in wherever they would fit. The only place left for Ned was a small stool where his back would be to the rest of the bar. An exposed back had troubled Ned since the war, but he hated drawing attention to this particular weakness.
“Take my seat, I wasn’t using it.” Charlie gestured at the bench against the wall near where he had been leaning. He then made a pointed stare at Ned’s empty hand. “What are you drinking?”
As Charlie got up to go to the bar and Ned brushed by him to take the vacated seat, they locked eyes, Charlie’s blue seeking confirmation that Ned was fine, Ned trying to convey his thanks for offering the bench.
“A sidecar, please,” he answered, and Charlie nodded.
When Charlie returned with the drinks, Ned tried not to read into the fact that Charlie sat right next to him. Before he could even thank him for the drink, a hand was extended out to Charlie.
“George Roland, it’s a pleasure. Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before?”
Freddy was right. The whole pub really was drooling over Charlie.
“Charlie Villiers. Edmund invited me.” Hearing Charlie use his full name sounded bizarre. “We were in the 1st London Territorial together.”
“I was with the Devonshires.” Ned had forgotten George had served, but it wasn’t surprising. The affable civil servant was closer to his own age than anyone else here. “Heard the 1st Londoners got up to a fair amount of trouble.”
“You would have to blame our officers for that. They were always coming up with ways to keep us up all night.” Charlie might have been talking to George, but his gaze was all for Ned.
“I remember hearing about some ridiculous heroics. Some lunatic spent a night alone in No Man’s Land playing hide-and-seek with Fritz?”
“I wouldn’t call the man sitting beside you a lunatic.” Charlie winked—actually winked—at Ned. “Not on his birthday at least.”
Before he could think about what he was saying, Ned found himself responding in kind. “The true lunatic in our division was Charlie. One evening before a big push, he got the whole section drunk on brandy he had found in the cellar of an abandoned farmhouse. I thought he was going to be arrested as a traitor, considering the number of men that were out cold.”
“Christ, man! French brandy can be deadly!” George slapped Charlie on the back, showing more praise than condemnation.
Charlie shrugged. “So were the plans for the next day. I figured we should have a head start.”
Ned flicked his eyes up to where another group of guests was standing and found Hugh staring right back at him, frowning in concern, or even sadness? In any case, it made Ned’s stomach clench. This was where Freddy was wrong. Hugh was better than Ned deserved; he never expected Ned to be anything more than a wealthy bohemian.
So Ned crossed his legs and leaned back in an overly casual affectation. “I was bloody grateful to be assigned to the War Office. It was impossible to get a good cocktail in the trenches.”
That got the laughter he was looking for from the assembled group. Better them think him a coward than a butcher.
Letting momentum propel him, Ned pulled his blond lover over from where he had been chatting with another group and into his lap. Ned forced a smile on his face. This sort of light banter was exactly the conversation he wanted. Charlie’s knee wasn’t touching his anymore, though.
Hugh drew a finger down Ned’s face. “I shudder to think of you in any of those horrid uniforms. It would have done absolutely nothing for your colouring at all.” He then leaned back as if to swoon across Ned’s lap. “Although if you want to play the ravishing soldier, I won’t have any objections at all.”
Ned leaned in to kiss Hugh to cheers throughout the bar. Ned felt a little ashamed of the spectacle they were making, but then reminded himself that this was what he wanted, to live without caring, without masks, and so he deepened the kiss.
Out of the corner of his vision, he noted that Charlie had moved away and was now standing by the bar. Clearly he had hit his limit for flagrant homosexuality for the evening. Ned shrugged mentally to himself. Charlie had known what he was getting himself into when he agreed to come here.
He was returning his gaze to Hugh when out of the corner of his eyes he saw Charlie flick his fingers. The hand signal they had used in No Man’s Land to indicate Germans nearby. Just when Ned was sure he’d been wrong, Charlie repeated the gesture. Old instinct had Ned systematically surveying The Pillars, and his eye caught on a hunched figure sitting at the end of the bar alone, watching the other patrons closely. Too closely. With too little admiration. The hair on the back of Ned’s neck went up. A plainclothes policeman.
He could already see a raid scene play out. The harsh shouts, bully sticks, and panicked voices. Arrests, photos, exposure. Public humiliation and shaming at best. Imprisonment and hard labour at worst. Ned looked around at the smiling, laughing faces around him, Hugh blowing a kiss to Freddy, completely content to sit in Ned’s lap. Could he get everyone out in time? Without triggering the raid itself? Ned couldn’t imagine leaving them to their fates and saving his own skin.
Then there was Charlie, still standing at the bar, still waiting for Ned.
Ned wasn’t in a pub anymore, but huddled in a muddy mine crater, realising that a covering party was cornered by a German patrol and was about to be massacred. For once his flashbacks of the front mobilised him. Ned would attack. Save the men who counted on him.