Page 47 of Pansies

This time there was more than a pause, and Fen showed no inclination to break the silence while Alfie squirmed.

“They know,” he tried again. “But they don’t need to see me.”

“See you what?”

“You know.Beinggay.”

“With me?”

“In general.”

Fen just stared at him, expression unreadable. For a moment, Alfie thought he might have pissed him off, but all he said was, “Oh, Alfie Bell,” in this unexpectedly gentle way.13

“We still on for tonight, yeah?” It was supposed to sound casual, but it came out…not like that. But then he’d shown himself up in a bunch of ways today, what with the Don’t-It-Yourself and being thirty years old and still scared of his dad, and he wouldn’t have been all that surprised if Fen had changed his mind. Somehow, just then, being a bully seemed more forgivable than being useless and pathetic.

“Of course.” Fen slid away, leaving Alfie both regretful and relieved. “I heard a hot boy was picking me up at seven.”

Alfie attempted a smile. “And wait till you see his car.”

“Yes, I will see it, and I will think: that is definitely a car. You could drive me to dinner in a pumpkin, and I probably wouldn’t notice.”

“If that’s true, you are going to be so educated.”

“Great. A man wants to teach me about cars.” Fen pulled a face. “I can’t tell if I feel patronised or turned on.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to be patronising.”

“In which case”—Fen cast a sly look over his shoulder as he left—“maybe a bit of both.”

It wasn’t too long before his dad and the DIY Army were finished in the bathroom. They called him to explain what they’d done, none of which he really understood, except for the fact there was no longer water pouring from a hole in the wall and where there had been a water-pouring-from-a-hole-in-the-wall situation was now neatly plastered over. Needless to say, this also served to make Alfie’s attempt look even more grotesque. Like that story they’d read at school about the guy who freaked out and buried his wife—or was it his cat, or maybe his wife’s cat, or was there an old man—in a wall. Actually, he couldn’t remember. Only there’d definitely been a murder and an impromptu tomb, and then horrible, horrible, guilt.

Now everyone was looking at him. Alfie stared at his feet. “Thanks, Da.”

“You know me.”

His dad was putting away his tools, his movements swift and smooth with familiarity. Alfie wanted to say,No, I don’t. But he was in a room full of strangers. And, even if he hadn’t been, even if it’d just been the two of them, he wouldn’t have said it. Too afraid of the answer.

They all trooped downstairs and through the shop, Alfie trailing along behind like the kid who always got picked last for sports. He’d secretly been hoping to hustle everyone off quickly, but Fen was out front, and so there was no way to avoid him. As it turned out, he’d made little thank-you bouquets for everyone to take home with them. And apparently Alfie’s mam liked peonies. Who knew? Not that he would have previously been able to recognise a peony anyway—turned out, they were the pink puffball things.

Fen was sweetly effusive in his gratitude, though the lack of North East in his accent made Alfie acutely aware of how southern his own must have sounded to everyone else. He was also braced for disaster, because Fen was so very Fen, with his expressive hands and his fluttery lashes and his look-at-me-squeeze-me-don’t-you-want-to-be-in-me arse. But it turned out that breathless admiration for your home repair skills transcended gender, and everyone left in a good mood. Except Alfie, who felt resentful and cheated because it should have beenhishome repair skills. Apart from the fact he didn’t have any.

“He’s a decent lad,” Alfred Senior said, as Alfie and Billy helped him settle the tools in the boot of his car. “Nora’s boy.” Alfie was so surprised at this rare praise that he nearly dropped…he didn’t know what he nearly dropped. Some kind of T-shaped stainless steel wrench. His dad took whatever-it-was away from him and stowed it with the rest of the gear. “Bent as a nine-bob note, of course.”

Nothing happened. The sky didn’t cave in or fire burst up from under the pavement.

In the end, it was Billy who broke the silence. “Howay, Da. Ye knaa Alfie…”

“Aye, ah do, but it’s not the same. Ye divvent see wor Alfie meking posies, wi’ pink in his hair.”

“No,” said Alfie quickly, “and you won’t. I’m not like that.”

His dad slammed the boot. Then got in the car and drove off without another word. For a second, Alfie thought he’d looked back, but it turned out he was just checking the rearview mirror.

Billy was still there, though, and it seemed like he might say something. Whatever it was, Alfie wasn’t in the mood to hear it. So he got into his own car and drove off too.

10

Fen was about ten minutes late, which was just long enough to make Alfie twitchy and wonder if he’d changed his mind. But then the side door opened, and Fen stepped out. The sight of him, all neat and sharp and strangely sexy, made Alfie grin like a fool. He put his fingers to his lips and wolf-whistled. The sound was too loud in the quiet evening, wrong and right at the same time.

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