Page 32 of These Old Lies

Charlie stirred, his head against the crook of Ned’s shoulder. In a half-asleep voice, he murmured, “I’d forgotten it felt like this.”

“Felt like what?”

“To be the smaller one.”

Ned fought back the urge to pull back and curl in on himself. “Does it bother you?”

“It’s fantastic. But I don’t mind holding you either.” Charlie paused. “I like when we hold each other.” Charlie’s openness was a revelation that kept leaving Ned breathless.

“Last night was… holy hell. Just thinking about it has me ready all over again.” Charlie leaned up on his elbow, the morning light hitting his bare chest in a way that seemed to highlight every glorious detail—the fine curly brown hair, the curve of muscle. “It's your turn now. Any classics you want me to try?”

There were lots Ned wanted to revisit as well as explore, but his stomach decided to make itself known and grumbled loudly. “Would taking you to a restaurant be permitted? Not that I don’t want more of this, but I didn’t eat supper last night.”

Charlie kissed him gently and moved to grab a shirt. “The pub around the corner does a good fry-up if you’re a local and ask nicely.”

They had both made significant progress towards making themselves presentable when Charlie turned to Ned and asked, “This is what it will be like? Going to the pub as old friends?”

“You would be impressed with how much people never suspect what is right in front of them.” Ned wanted to leave it at that, but he owed Charlie the full truth. “There is also a big difference between gossip at the grocer’s between neighbours and the police knocking down the door.”

“For you maybe. My neighbours are also my clients, people who know my parents.”

Ned reached out and grabbed Charlie’s hand. “We will figure out the logistics. I think I’m going to be purchasing a lot of hats in the near future.”

Charlie fussed with the buttons on his cuffs. “This must be all so much easier with Hugh. He doesn’t seem to care about being the subject of gossip.”

“Hugh and I are done.” Ned had no need of entertainment if he could be with Charlie. Although this brought them to another topic to discuss. Nedhoped he was able to hide his nervousness. “And Betty?”

Charlie paused with the buttons. “What about her?”

“If memory serves, she fits the bill of the women you enjoy. You certainly dance well together. I assume there is an understanding between you two…” Ned tried to fight off the memory of the easy way Betty and Charlie had moved and spun. There were plenty of men Ned knew who had a wife at home and a boy in The Pillars and never thought twice about it. Would Charlie expect that sort of agreement?

“Betty was John Henderson’s girl.”

“Ah,” Ned said. He had been right at Claridge’s then; the laughing woman did know all about having your dreams blown up. He vaguely remembered writing to Henderson’s fiancée, but he had written to so many widows during those years, and at the time his mind had been far too preoccupied with the haunted look in Charlie’s eyes as he had come off that field punishment.

Now that he fully grasped Charlie’s connection with Betty, a pit of dread formed in his stomach. “I understand if you have an obligation to her, in that case,” Ned stuttered out.

“No! It’s not like that.” Charlie sighed. “I mean, she’s a friend, not more.”

Oh.

Ned’s hands fell to his sides. He wasn’t really sure what to say next, but it didn’t matter. Charlie took a step forward, wrapping his arms around Ned. When he spoke, it vibrated against Ned’s chest. “After I was demobbed, I checked in on Betty as a courtesy to Henderson. We basically sat in silence in her mother’s front room. I was so desperate for conversation, I asked if she liked dancing. Even then, we barely spoke the first few times at the dance hall. I needed a few hours away from the shop, and she wanted to get away from her mother’s fussing. With time though, we’ve become friends. There’s never been anything more.”

Ned nodded, embarrassed by how delighted he felt that he had no competition for Charlie’s affections.

They were about to reach for their jackets when Charlie spoke, “So, we meet in pubs and pretend to be old friends. We sneak around to spend the odd night together. We tell no one.” He shrugged into his jacket, lookingthoughtful. “I hadn’t realised that doing right by one another would still feel so entirely inadequate.”

12 A Country Drive

Laventie, November 1916 / Charlie

“What in God’s name is going on here?!” It was somewhat remarkable that Ned’s accent got even posher when he was yelling. Had he taken special classes, or was it something he was born with, a gift of nobility?

With some effort, Charlie lifted his head from where he had been resting it on the rough table. He wanted to answer Ned, but first he needed to remember how words worked.

Behind him he heard someone vomiting. Those new lads really couldn’t hold their brandy at all. Unlike Charlie. After two and half years of training in Flanders, he had a stomach of steel.

“Up, up on your feet, all of you!” Hands jerked Charlie up. He tried to push them off, and then realised the ground was swaying to a very worrying degree. Now Charlie remembered that was why he’d been sitting. They should all be sitting. Or lying down.