1 Chapter 1

1

“I’ve got a spare room,”

Trevor said, shimmying up to the lunch table.

Paul panicked. “Oh, no,

it’s fine. I’m sure I—”

The look of sadness on

Trevor’s face as he turned away and made a quick exit from the

staff canteen did little to quell Paul’s alarm at being invited to

stay at the home of the Town Hall queer. He couldn’t. What would

his mates at the cricket club say? Paul shook his head to try and

clear it. His gaze fell upon the disapproving face of Sandy, the

filing clerk.

“Did you have to say it

like that? Be quite so obvious?”

“But he’s—I’m…”

Sandy’s expression

darkened. “What’s that supposed to mean? Have you forgotten I’m a

lesbian? You don’t seem to have any problem around me.”

“But that’s different. Eh,

you’re a woman and—”

“Men! And they say we’re

the emotional and irrational sex.” Shaking her head, Sandy asked,

“How well do you actually know Trevor? Have you ever stopped and

had a conversation with him, found out what he’s really

like?”

“Uh, no.” Paul

realised he hadn’t.Trevor’s somewhat unorthodox appearance,

his long curly brown hair, his brightly coloured artist’s smocks,

the bangles on his limp wrists had all put Paul off from

approaching the guy.

Sighing, she said,“No, didn’t think you had.”

Pushing his half-eaten

meal away, Paul sighed in resignation. He knew Sandy was right. His

reactions to Trevor were wrong, but, he couldn’t help being

uncomfortable around men who minced or flamed or…

“Fuck!” He slammed his

fist on the table, causing the cutlery to rattle and the water in

his glass to slosh over the side. He wasn’t sure what he was madder

at, the situation with Trevor, and how he’d have to go eat humble

pie, or the mess his house was in.

He’d come home from a

weekend with the lads from the cricket team. Someone had suggested

they hire a minibus and go down to Dover, catch the ferry and load

up on cheap booze from the hypermarkets in Calais. However, the

light rain that had been falling when he’d set out had turned into

a severe downpour. As the river was already close to overflowing

its banks, the extra rain resulted in a foot of water flooding the

ground floor of Paul’s house.

Sandy put a reassuring

hand on top of his. “Has the water done a lot of

damage?”

Paul nodded. “Last time it

took over three months before the place was habitable.”

“Oh dear.”

“I’m not looking forward

to all the re-decorating, sorting out new carpets, furniture

and…”

“You should have sold the

place after last time.”

Paul smiled ruefully. “I

was told that it was a fluke, a once in a lifetime

thing.”

“Oh.”

“And if that wasn’t bad

enough, the bastards at my insurance company told me this morning I

was under-insured.”

“Oh, Paul.”

“I’ll be okay. Though

it’ll probably eat into my savings to get the place all fixed

up.”

“Sorry. I wish I had a

spare room to offer you, but as you know my place is

tiny.”

“I know, and thanks.

Something will turn up. I’ll ring round my mates this afternoon.

One of them’s bound to be able to put me up.”

** * *

Replacing the phone in its

cradle, Paul dropped his head into his hands.No one seemed to have room. Thommo said he could have his

couch, but Paul was all too aware of the lumps and broken springs.

He’d sat on the uncomfortable piece of furniture often enough when

Thommo invited the guys round for beer and televised

sport.

Paul was no snob. The last

thing he could call himself would be house-proud, but Thommo’s

place was a tip. His last girlfriend had walked out on him six

months earlier, no doubt because she was fed up with cleaning up

after him.

Looking at his watch, Paul

realised it was almost knocking-off time, and he’d got precious

little work done. Putting a couple of executive summaries in his

briefcase, he straightened up his desk and prepared to

leave.

Standing in the corridor

at the exit to the part of the town hall which the public weren’t

given access to, Paul waited his turn to sign out. He heard

Trevor’s annoyingly girlish laughter behind him as he shared a joke

with the girls from the typing pool.

After reaching the head of

the queue, Paul signed his name and his time of departure then

stood to one side. He might as well get his apology to Trevor over

with. Trying to remain calm, he watched as several staff members

signed out, then it was Trevor’s turn. Did he have to wiggle his

hips so childishly as he bent to sign his name? One of the girls

reached out and pinched Trevor’s bum cheek, causing him to squeal

in mock indignation.