Page 127 of Pansies

“And this is supposed to sell it to me?”

“Look, I know it’s not the Ritz, and if we were in London, I’d take you somewhere with a bunch of Michelin stars—”

“I’m sorry,” Fen cut him off. “I was just…being a spiky little bitch. Ignore me. It sounds lovely.”

“They do local native lobster. You can’t get that at the Ritz.” Alfie grinned. “And guess what else?”

“Um, they do rhubarb crumble just like Grandma used to make it?”

“There’s a musical on at the Empire.”

Fen perked up so fast he nearly elbowed Alfie in the balls. “Really?”

“Yep.”

“Which one?”

“It’s calledLegally Blonde.” He paused. “The Musical. That’s how I knew it was a musical.”

There was a long silence.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, there’s kind of musicals and ‘musicals.’ And anything involving the words ‘The Musical’ puts it in the latter category.”

“Yeah, you just said the same word twice. Oddly enough, I’m kind of not illuminated by that.”

“It’s… You know the way with books there’s Jane Austen and also A. A. Winters? Well,Existing Intellectual Property: The Musicalis, in musical terms, closer to A. A. Winters than Jane Austen.”

“So what’s musical Jane Austen, then?”

“Sondheim, obviously.”

“Some people like A. A. Winters, y’know,” said Alfie, a trifle sullenly.

“Clearly, given he’s constantly on bestseller lists. But that doesn’t mean he’s good.”

“Okay, I get it. You’d rather show off how clever and sophisticated you are than have fun.The Cherry Orchardis on at the Theatre Royal. Want to go see that instead? There’s no singing in it, mind.”

“Yes, I’m aware there’s no singing inThe Cherry Orchard.” Fen knelt up. “I’m sorry. I’ve fucked up again, haven’t I?”

Alfie put the laptop aside. Tried to figure out what he was feeling. “It’s not you. I just don’t see why everything has to be compared to London. I mean, all everybody is doing down there is chasing the next new thing. It’s fun. But why’s it more important than the smell of the sea? And having places to go where you get recognised cos they’re yours? I want to be content with what I have. Cos what I have right now”—he slid a hand up Fen’s thigh—“is fucking amazing.”

Fen was gazing at him with that soft, surrendered look he got sometimes. “You’re right.”

“We really don’t have to go.”

“I know.” An odd little smile flickered at the corner of Fen’s lips. “But the truth is, Alfie Bell, nothing would make me happier. I’m just not used to liking South Shields. Please take me to the Fish Church—”

“The Seafood Temple.”10

“Yes, there. And then to seeLegally Blonde: The Musical. I’d love to go with you.”

“Sure you wouldn’t rather seeThe Cherry Orchard? Itreflects the futility of aristocratic values in the face of bourgeois materialism.”

“No, really—” Fen caught a glimpse of the expression on his face. “Oh, stop teasing me, you bastard.”

Alfie burst out laughing, fully intending to keep teasing, maybe in a more physical fashion. But then the doorbell rang. They stared at each other in surprise.

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