Summertime

By S. Faith, © 2008

Words: 13,489

Rating: T / PG-13

Summary: Such a pivotal age, sixteen, and home for the summer from school…

Disclaimer: The canonical characters are not mine. The others are, and so are the words and the story.

Notes: Future-fic. Helps to have read "Thirteen Years" first. Big, big thanks to my Marcie.

(If you want to see the links, go to LJ.)


"Wake up!"

They had been at Drew's for a little over two weeks now, and today was Drew's birthday. Justin knew the day was planned for celebrating it. It was understandable that Drew was excited at finally turning sixteen, but honestly, what was in store for them but a stodgy old party?

"Drew, it's eight in the morning," Justin grumbled as he pulled the sheets up over his head. "We stayed up until two watching DVDs."

"But it's birthday breakfast, so get up."

"What's the big deal about that?"

Drew yanked the covers back. "What's the big deal? Are you mad? Chocolate chip pancakes, and bacon and toast, and drinking chocolate with whipped cream on top… that's the big deal!"

Justin blinked sleepily.

"And I got to pick what I want to do today. So we're going to the Eye!"

Justin sat up, his mouth hanging open. "Seriously?"

"Yup!"

Justin jumped out of bed. "Let's have breakfast, then."

………

Andrew and Justin got to the kitchen just as the first batch of pancakes was coming off of the griddle. Andrew watched his friend's expression; he was almost more excited to see Justin's reaction when he realised there was not one but two birthday crowns on the table.

Justin saw them, then blinked his disbelief, as they sat there next to each other, side by side. "What's this?"

"Andy tells us it was your birthday just at the end of your term," said Mum, "so you didn't get to celebrate it properly. So. Happy birthday, Justin."

Justin grinned. It was obvious he was incredibly touched. He slipped into one of the chairs, then put the paper crown on.

"We always save some paper crowns at Christmas for birthdays," explained Andrew, sitting and putting his own crown on. Mum came around with the plate of pancakes. "All right!" he said, then started to chant, "Pancakes! Pancakes!"

She smiled, serving each of them pancakes, then returned with generous portions of bacon.

"Where's your father, Drew?"

Andrew furrowed his brows. It was true. His father was not there. "Mum, where's Dad?"

"He's got a little bit of work to take care of," said Mum. "But he'll be done in time to come with us to the Eye."

Mum was true to her word; just as they finished eating, Dad showed up with a smile and a kiss on the head for Andrew. "Happy birthday, son," he said.

His mum added, "It's hard to believe you're sixteen."

Andrew glanced up to look at his mother. As he expected she was looking a bit misty-eyed. "Yeah, I know," he grinned. "You say that every year."

"I do not," protested Mum. "You were not sixteen last year."

They all laughed.

Changing the subject, Mum said, looking to Dad, "Did you get your work taken care of?"

"Oh, yes," he said, sitting at a plate where his own eggs and bacon were waiting. "As soon as I'm finished we can head out."

When they went upstairs, they noticed two pairs of very obvious shapes attempted to be masked by wrapping paper: two long, tall thin strips of wood, and two egg-shaped balls sitting on the table in the foyer. "What… what's this?" said Andrew.

"Gifts, silly," said Mum. "It is your birthday. There's a set for each of you."

Justin again looked overwhelmed. "For me?"

"Mm-hmm," confirmed Mum. "Well, you play and practise together, don't you?"

"Are we allowed to open them now?" asked Andrew eagerly.

"Sure," said Dad. "But no trying them out until later. Outside."

They chuckled. Reaching for what he knew to be a cricket bat, Andrew pulled off the paper and gasped. It was beautiful, made of gleaming pale wood with a leather-wrapped handle. Justin's matched except for the colour of the handle; Andrew's was a deep carnelian and Justin's, a burnished brown. The rugby balls were made of leather that matched the leather wrapping of the respective cricket bats.

"Wow. These are so nice I'll hardly want to use them," gushed Justin. "Thank you so much."

"Yes," echoed Andrew. "Thank you."

Mum and Dad both smiled. "You're very welcome," said Mum. "Now I think we have an appointment with destiny… or, as it happens, a pod on the Eye."

………

Justin could not remember a better birthday. A ride on the London Eye with a pod all to themselves (during which Justin mostly just stared in awe at the panorama around him as Drew's parents reclined back with glasses of Pimm's); afterwards they went to visit a few sights like the best of tourists (Parliament, Piccadilly Square, Big Ben), had lunch at a pub once frequented by Charles Dickens, then headed back via taxi to Holland Park Avenue.

"Did you have a good day?"

It was Drew's mum speaking, waking Justin as they pulled up to the house. It had been an wonderful but exhausting day. "It was great," said Drew, sitting up in his seat.

"Yeah. You didn't have to do so much for me, though I appreciate it very much."

Drew's mum looked thoughtful. "What do you normally do on your birthday?"

Justin shrugged. There was never as big a deal made by his own parents as Drew's. "Usually have dinner," Justin admitted. "I'm supposed to be able to pick my favourite thing, but they never let me have pizza, so we have something else instead. It's nice though, to have my mum and dad sitting down with me for once."

"They don't usually?" asked Drew's dad.

Justin shrugged again. "Dad works late a lot."

Drew's parents shared a look. "Well," said Mr Darcy, looking back to the boys with a half-smirk. "If there are no objections, since I cannot think of anything better, I am all for a good pizza for dinner."

Justin wondered bemusedly if it were possible to put himself up for adoption.

………

Sated on pizza and cola and watching mindless science fiction movies on television, Andrew had dozed off, but woke at the soft sound of his mother's voice, of her gentle hand on his arm: "Andy, may we speak to you for a moment?" He glanced over and saw that Justin had sacked out, too.

"Yeah, sure, of course," said Andy, blinking sleepily.

He followed his mum to his father's office, which worried him for a moment. Andrew never went in there, never dared risk his father's wrath for venturing into the office. His dad sat there reclining back on the edge of his desk, his arms folded over his chest, which would have been intimidating except for the grin on his face.

"We like Justin well enough," said Dad, "but we wanted a little time with you on your birthday."

"In here?" Andrew blurted before he could think about it.

His parents both started to laugh. "Well, in here is the only place we can adequately hide your gifts that we can be sure you'll never find them."

"Gifts?" he echoed. "I thought you gave me my gift already."

"Andy, my love," said Mum, putting her arm around his shoulders, kissing his wavy hair at the temple. "It's your sixteenth birthday. That's sort of a milestone. You deserve more than a cricket bat and a rugby ball."

His father got up and strode around to his desk drawer, pulling it open. He pulled out a square black box with a silver bow on the top, then walked around to hand it to Andrew.

"Happy birthday, son."

Andrew looked up to his father, and it was a very solemn look he found looking back at him. He accepted the gift, which was not wrapped in paper, but the box lid itself seemed to be covered in a sort of silk fabric. He lifted the lid off, and was overwhelmed by what he saw.

Looking up, he began, "This isn't—"

"It is," confirmed his father.

He looked in the box again. It was Great-Grandfather Darcy's pocket watch. The pale antique gold watch shone as it lie there nestled among the blue-black velvet, elaborate and delicate scrollwork engraved on its case. It was cool to the touch, and heavy in his hand as he picked it up.

He looked up to meet his mother's eyes, then his father's. He did not know quite what to say. He knew this was much more than a pocket watch; it was a rite of passage, acknowledging he was not a child any longer. "Thank you."

His father nodded. "Just take good care of it."

"I will," he said solemnly.

"I know you will," said Dad, smiling wistfully.

It was Mum, of course, who broke the silence (in a very Granny Pam sort of way) by saying, "Well, honestly, darling… that isn't the only thing we have for you. Come on, Mark."

"Right." Dad bent down to reach into the drawer once more, and pulled out another wrapped gift. "Here you are."

It was not a large box—truth be told, suspiciously jewellery-sized—and he tore the paper off to reveal two things: a new watch and an envelope.

He picked up the watch, silver in tone and a classic watch face with Roman numerals and a pale brown distressed leather band. "That," said Mum, "is more practical for you to wear than the pocket watch, and it will make sure you're on time to—" She stopped suddenly and smiled. "Well. You'll see."

Intrigued, Andrew tore into the envelope and squealed with delight.

"Tickets to the exhibition game?" he said, incredulous and excited. It was a football game that had been sold out for months, one that he and Justin had dearly wanted to attend.

"Yup," said Dad. "Now, those are from your Uncle Peter. He won't be back in London for a few days yet, and he asked us to give them to you."

"There's a ticket for Justin, too," added his mum.

Andrew grinned, feeling on top of the world. "Thank you so much!" he said, holding tight to the gifts, and stepping back towards the door. "I can't wait to tell—"

"Hold on," said Dad sternly. "Where do you think you're going?"

Andrew blinked.

"We haven't quite finished yet," he continued. He was smirking.

Andrew's mouth hung open. "You haven't?"

Mum shook her head. "One more. Close your eyes."

He did.

"Hold out your hands."

He did that as well.

He then felt a box placed across his open palms. It was not very heavy.

His father asked, "Got it?"

"Yes, Dad," he replied.

He heard his mother giggle a little. "All right. Open your eyes."

When he did, he nearly squealed again. It was a brand new notebook computer.

"It's got optimised video relay capabilities," explained his father, "so we can talk face to face more often."

Andrew smiled. "This is awesome. Thank you so, so much!"

His parents were both grinning broadly. "You're the light of our lives, Andy," said Mum. "You've always made us beyond proud."

"I couldn't have asked for a better son," added Dad, as Mum nodded.

He went around to where they stood and hugged them, one arm around each of them.

"I love you," he said softly.

"Love you too," they said in unison, one on each side of him.

………

Justin opened his eyes to see that the movie was over, and he was in the entertainment room alone. He pushed himself upright just as a beaming Drew came in.

"Hey," said Justin. "What've you got there?"

"My folks had more gifts for me," he said excitedly.

"Of course they did," said Justin, grinning. He hadn't expected even a cricket bat from them. "So what kind of loot did you get?"

Drew smiled. "A new notebook!" He proudly held up the box.

"Oooh, those are great, and so thin… and there's more?"

Drew nodded. "Well, this pocket watch—it's an heirloom, handed down from generation to generation." He exaggerated his tone as he showed his friend, who whistled. "Then a real watch, and oh! Tickets to the football game!"

Justin blinked in his disbelief. "The game?"

Drew nodded excitedly. "From my Uncle Peter! For all of us to go!"

"Uncle Peter?"

"You'll like him. He's been, like, everywhere, and he's super funny."

"Will he like me?"

Drew fixed him with a piercing look. "Durr."

Justin felt a little wistful. "You know, Drew, you've got a really cool family."

Drew looked really thoughtful, though was still smiling. "I do, don't I? Oh! I should ring him up!" Drew reached into his pocket for his mobile. "To say thanks."

………

It took a few rings before Andrew's uncle picked up. "Bonjour," he said. Andrew wondered if he was in France.

"Uncle Peter?" asked Andrew.

"Birthday boy Drew! How are you?"

"Very well," said Andrew, glancing to Justin. "I just wanted to say thank you for the tickets. Can't wait to go!"

"You're welcome. Hear you have a friend there with you, and he's coming with us."

"Yup."

"Any friend of yours is a friend of mine."

They spoke briefly about plans for Saturday, heading out for something to eat before the big match. "I don't know how you feel about this," said Peter, "but I am dying for a great big cheeseburger and a side of chips."

"I don't think you'll get any arguments out of us."

"Great. I'll be there at eleven."

They disconnected.

"Well," said Andrew, turning back to Justin, who tore his disinterested gaze away from the telly screen. "Plans set for Saturday, I've got a new notebook, and this movie's boring me stiff. Let's play with the new toy!"

Justin brightened considerably.

………

As it turned out, Saturday was planned to be an all around busy day: after the game, the whole lot of them were to travel up to Grafton Underwood to visit with both sets of Andrew's grandparents. Once again, Justin seemed surprised, and Andrew didn't feel right asking why.

It was a loud squeal that awakened them that Saturday morning, much later than either usually liked to sleep; then again, they'd each had trouble falling asleep due to nervous excitement. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up in his bed, and looked over to Justin, who was doing the same.

"What on earth was that?" asked Justin.

"I have a feeling I know."

Justin, evidently curious, pushed back the sheets and went to the window that overlooked the backyard. Andrew was next to him in a heartbeat, and it was as he suspected:

It was his mum and dad. Mum was standing in the backyard, wearing light blue shorts and a pale floral print halter top that were both clearly half damp. Dad was standing with a wicked grin on his face and holding on to a garden hose that he had pointed directly at her.

"You bastard!" shouted Mum, though she too was clearly amused.

"You dared me to do it," said Dad matter-of-factly. "I don't back down from a challenge like that." Just to prove his point, he briefly tightened his grip on the nozzle, spraying her with water all over again.

Unsurprisingly, she squealed once more; in a bold move, she then rushed forward in an attempt to wrestle the hose from his hands.

"Oh no you don't," he said, raising it up and over his head, but that didn't stop her from trying, and she practically stepped on his feet and climbed up his arms to try to get at the hose…

…And somewhere in that, the grapple for the hose became a rather tight embrace and snog, at which both boys retreated from the window, glancing to one another with hesitant smirks as if they'd seen something utterly forbidden.

"Do they do that a lot?" asked Justin.

"What, have water fights?" asked Andrew flippantly.

"Oh, yeah, water fights." He glanced to the clock again, a strange expression passing over his face. "Forget breakfast; your uncle will be here in an hour."

They were primping side by side in the bathroom mirror, waiting for Uncle Peter to show up, when Justin finally seemed to open up about his earlier surprise then his odd reaction. "I probably should have realised that it was more normal to have a bunch of family around than not," he said, combing his hair to the side, then using his hand to muss it again just so. "I haven't seen my grandparents, either set, since I was very small. They don't come around much."

They can't be buggered, more like, thought Andrew. He wanted to ask how in the world a nice, genial, funny kid had come from such a cold and emotionless family, but he thought better of it.

His thoughts regarding Justin's family must have weighed on his mind more than he thought, because after the arrival of his uncle—who had not changed a bit—and after Justin ran off to the loo one last time before they left, Uncle Peter turned his intense blue eyes on Andrew.

"What's wrong, Drew?" said Uncle Peter.

"Nothing's really wrong," admitted Andrew. "It's just that hearing about Justin's mum and dad, how strict and horrible they are, how they don't show him any affection, barely acknowledge his birthday… and then his grandparents don't even come to visit, like, ever… I never realised how much I take my own family for granted."

"No one who knows you would ever think you take your family for granted."

"Well, that's not quite what I mean," Andrew explained. "I take how good I've got it for granted."

Uncle Peter slipped an arm around his nephew's shoulders and gave him a quick hug. "I don't think anyone would ever accuse you of taking your excellent family situation for granted," he said with a grin. "The man you're growing up to be is a testament to that." Uncle Peter tightened his hug for a moment, then stepped away, chuckling. "Now if your father was still married to that first wife of his… we might have a different story altogether."

Dad had not often spoken of his first wife; that 'she was and is everything that your mother is not, and that's all I'll say on the subject' was the most Andrew could ever get out of his father about her; that and she was of Japanese heritage. Jumping on the chance for more information, Andrew asked, "Was she really that bad?"

"Oh, you have no idea," admitted his uncle.

"Why on earth did they ever get married then?"

Uncle Peter only now started to look like he was sorry he'd broached the subject. "I think your dad felt she was as good as any other woman he'd known, and she seemed to have the right pedigree…" At Andrew's shocked look, he added, "Oh, your father was quite a different man in those days. Your mum was the best thing to ever happen to him."

Andy smirked. "Did he divorce her to be with Mum?"

Now his uncle looked positively cornered. "How much has your father told you about this?"

Andrew was a terrible liar. "Not much. But I've always been really curious."

The older man sighed. "It was she who left your father, long before he met your mother, as I understand it. Mind you, I was quite out of the picture for some time." He patted Andrew's shoulder again. "I think anything more on the subject needs to be cleared by your father first."

Andrew sighed.

"You're getting older now," added Peter. "He might be willing to explain more to you now if you ask. But don't tell him you were talking to me about it—hello, Mark!" he said, changing tone abruptly as his brother appeared on the stairs up from the kitchen. To Andrew's amusement, his dad's hair was dripping wet; perhaps Mum had finally wrested control of the hose away. "I'll have them back here straightaway for our ramble on to G-U."

Dad grinned.

Uncle Peter furrowed his brow. "Why are you—"

"A bit of a problem with the hose out back," he explained smoothly. "Andrew, where's your partner in crime?"

"He'll be right down," explained Andrew.

A thumping on the stairs above indicated Justin was on his way back down, and with quick goodbyes and 'have fun's, they were off to have lunch, then the game.

………

After the excitement of the game, both Justin and Drew were too tired to keep awake during the long drive to Grafton Underwood. Drew's uncle decided to ride with the four of them to conserve fuel. Justin, however, did not sleep solidly the entire time, so he caught snippets of conversations the adults probably did not mean for him to hear.

"Did you two have a good afternoon?" Peter asked of Drew's parents.

"Very good," said Mr Darcy, from his position behind the wheel of the car.

"Better than good," said Mrs Darcy. "I like having the boys here but it puts a crimp on… well, it was practically the first time we'd had alone together since they got here."

Peter chuckled. "Ah, enough said."

Justin heard Drew's mum giggle. "Darling, it's only your brother. No need for your ears to go all pink like that."

"But the boys."

"They're sleeping. Completely knackered out."

Justin was by no means naïve on the subject of what adults did during their private time together. To try to picture his own parents spending their time thusly seemed impossible, not to mention disgusting. He should have been mildly weirded out by the thought of anyone's parents in such a state, but from what he'd seen of Drew's parents, it didn't seem so weird at all.

However, after this, Justin endeavoured to really try to sleep.

They went directly to Drew's paternal grandparents'. They were welcoming, genial people who embraced Justin with great affection, both figuratively and literally. Drew's great-uncle, however, looked at him with undisguised scrutiny.

"Friend of Andrew's from Eton, are you?" the man said.

"Yes, sir," Justin said politely.

"Welsh?"

"Yes, sir."

"Your parents vote Tory, I presume?"

Drew's mum burst out in a laugh. "Uncle Nick, come on. Give the boy a break."

"Has to be properly vetted, child," he grumbled. Child? thought Justin.

"Yeah, like you did to Hugh, scaring the living hell out of him," said Drew's dad.

"They do," said Justin feebly.

"Very well," Great-Uncle Nick said after a moment. "You can stay."

Drew's mum laughed again. "I'm glad I wasn't tossed out by my ear for not being Tory."

Justin blinked. He shouldn't have been surprised given all he knew of Drew's mum, but he was all the same.

"Well," Nick said, "you proved yourself in other ways."

"What about me?" said Drew with a grin.

"Ah," he said thoughtfully after few minutes. "You're exempt for being so much like your mother."

Drew grinned, rolling his eyes.

"My point is made," he said. But he was smiling, too.

A loud, insistent knocking on the door announced the arrival of Drew's maternal grandparents, the Joneses. Grandpa Colin was quiet, docile and introspective, but Granny Pam was, even at her age, a whirlwind of energy, bright and shining and always smiling—and even more frequently talking; Justin knew at once what Drew had meant about avoiding her crazy party. She hugged her grandson so tightly he made a face like he was being strangled, but then started to laugh.

"It's so good to see you," she said, "and oh, look at how big you are, how grown-up you are, how much you look like your father, you lucky boy. You're going to make some girl very happy some day."

Drew turned the faintest shade of pink, casting a glance to his equally sheepish-looking father.

They all had dinner together, and the room was filled with raucous, pleasant conversation the entire time. This, thought Justin, is what a family should be like.

Justin was still curious about a few things, and he leaned into his friend to ask, "So your mum's not a Tory?"

Andrew nearly choked on his soup. "Uh, not even a little bit. Nope."

"Your father lets her?"

Justin was met with a baffled look. "He hardly has a say in her political views. Besides, it's made for some very educational discussions at the supper table."

"I suppose," said Justin, still trying to come to grips with the concept of a mother who could not only work if she wanted to, but vote as her conscience dictated. "And your uncle, Peter? Is he married?"

Drew shook his head. "Nope. He had a long-time boyfriend for a while, then a girlfriend, but they split up too."

At this, Justin had no response except for a "Oh."

"Sorry," said Drew ruefully; "you look like I just told you there's no Father Christmas."

"Your family is full of surprises," Justin admitted; he could not stop a grin from spreading on his face as he continued, "which… is kind of cool, actually. So how about Great-Uncle Nick? Does he have a boyfriend too?" he asked with a wink.

"Hardly," replied Drew with a great big laugh. "Uncle Nick's kind of a mystery in that regard. Heard he used to see some lady in London regularly but beyond that… a great big unknown."

"And why does your great-uncle call your mum 'child', anyway?"

"I don't know, really."

"It's because she was when I met her," cut in another voice, and from across the table both boys saw the piercing blue eyes of Great-Uncle Nick directed at them. His pursed-lip smile made Justin wonder how long he'd been listening in. "She still is."

Drew laughed. "I think sometimes Dad thinks so too."

"Dad thinks what, too?" piped up Drew's father.

"Nothing, nothing," said Drew with a chuckle.

After dinner was dessert, chocolate cake (with candles to blow out after a spirited round of "Happy Birthday to You") and ice cream. Drew's relatives brought out their presents for him. From Grandpa Malcolm and Granny Elaine was a hand-knit jumper—"Not hand-knit by me, mind you," she was quick to say with a smile, "but by some sainted granny in France"—in anticipation of the new school year, as well as gift certificates for several of Drew's favourite stores. Grandpa Colin and Granny Pam gave him a desk set, an antique reproduction of his favourite author's, Charles Dickens, and a matching Mont Blanc pen. Drew received a gorgeous leather attaché from Great-Uncle Nick, who advised it was never too soon to start thinking of these things.

Drew thanked all of them profusely for everything. It was clear that he was absolutely sincere.

"Oh, I could burst," said Justin after gorging on two pieces of cake, several glasses of soda, and a generous helping of ice cream. He sat back in his chair and sighed. "This is seriously my best summer ever."

Drew grinned. "And it's not even over yet!"

………

Shortly after everyone was finished having cake, the adults moved to the sitting room to have coffee. Andrew and Justin congregated with Grandpa Colin for a chat; it seemed that Grandpa's own grandfather had come from Cardiff, which was an immediate point in common with Justin. As the two of them chatted amicably, Andrew noticed his father watching his mother with a very familiar look of adoration in his eyes. He then approached her, slipped an arm around her shoulders as he pressed a lingering kiss into her temple, then said something softly into her ear before leaving the room.

Andrew was suddenly anxious to talk to his dad alone. He wanted to know more about the first woman his father had married. He had the pocket watch now; he was a man now. Slim a chance as it was, he thought his dad might tell actually him. "Justin," he said. "Wait here. I need to talk to my father. I'll be right back." He got up before he lost sight of his dad.

He should have guessed where his dad was going: out for a breath of fresh air on the back patio. He stood there, his palms resting on the cool marble banister, looking up into the evening sky, which was still shaded with the pink and purple tones of sunset.

Andrew came up to stand beside his father, who glanced over to him then back to the sky. "I love your Granny Pam," he said at last, "but even after all this time I can only take her a little bit at a time."

Andrew snickered. He knew exactly what his father meant.

"You had a nice day, I trust?"

"Oh, yes. The very best. And Justin did too. He's almost a little overwhelmed."

He heard his father chuckle.

Andrew was so nervous about asking that he felt his heart thumping in his chest. It was now or never. "Dad," he began tentatively, "may I ask you a question?"

"Absolutely, son."

"I know you probably don't like talking about this," he said, "but I'm older now and I'd really like to know." He took a deep breath, looking to his father. "About… your first wife."

If his father had a reaction, it was not something Andrew could discern. "You're right," said his father after a few moments. "I don't like to talk about it." He then looked at Andrew to meet his son's eyes. "But it's my role as your father to teach you, to guide you to not to make the mistakes I've made, at least to the best of my ability. And you are, as you said, older now."

Andrew couldn't believe his ears.

His father sighed, collecting his thoughts. "We had gotten together, had gotten married, for all of the wrong reasons. I felt I was getting past the age where I'd ever find, if you'll pardon the sappy term, a soul mate. I thought about it more in business terms, a compatible match, a successful merger. Which was very much a mistake.

"One day not long after we'd gotten married, I came home from work early—it was Christmas, actually; it appals me now to think of working on Christmas—and found—" He cleared his throat. "—found that she was… being unfaithful to me. In our own house. With my best mate from Cambridge. The man who was my best man two weeks' prior."

Andrew felt his mouth drop open of its own accord. "Are you serious?"

His father nodded. "I learned a very hard-won lesson. If you marry for anything but love, you're setting yourself up for pain and heartache."

"Wow." Andrew leaned hard on the marble banister. "It's a wonder you ever tried again."

"I was not so inclined, to be honest," Dad said, looking out into the dusk once more. "I hardened my defences even more than usual. And then—" His voice softened as he said, "Then I met Bridget." He quickly added, "Your mother."

Andrew laughed lightly. "I knew who you meant."

Fully engaged now in reminiscing, his father continued. "We played together as children, though I hardly remembered that at the time. Your grannies and Aunt Una were conspiring fiercely to make a match between us. It was New Year's Day, and I was already predisposed to a bad mood because of the anniversary of… well, I think you know, but being so indignant at the effort they were making I was, I'm afraid, more surly than usual." Andrew chuckled again. "Then your mum shows up, we're introduced…. The thing I remember most about that day, aside from how terribly we were both dressed, is how not impressed she was with me. It was humbling, especially because so many women—like my first wife—would throw themselves at me in a most outrageous manner simply because of my status and money."

Andrew never thought of his father as anything but his father; he struggled to reconcile the man he knew with a man needing to fend off hordes of women. He wondered how his expression must have changed, because his father started to heartily chuckle. "I think you must have the wrong idea, Andrew," he said. "I rarely dated after the divorce, but I had been seeing someone when I met Bridget. It became very apparent the better I got to know her that the woman I'd been seeing was no different than the others. Which is exactly why I gave up taking a job in New York City—Bridget was special. I realised that she'd managed to get past all of those defences, that I loved her and couldn't leave. I have never once regretted that decision."

Andrew found himself grinning madly. He loved this level of confidence he'd been brought into, loved hearing of his parents' history, loved knowing how truly they loved one another. "So how long had you been dating her when you turned down the job?"

Dad's mouth curled into a little smile. "We, um, hadn't been dating yet."

Andrew was confused. "So you turned down a job just on the off-chance…?"

Dad laughed again. "You might say that. Thankfully when I went to see her, she felt the same way about me, and that is, I'm afraid, all the detail you're going to get about that particular night." His father put his hand on Andrew's shoulder. "It was a bumpy road at first, but we managed to come out the other side relatively unscathed… and it was all worth it because she made me a better man in the process. There's no one else I can imagine having spent my life with." He smiled. "Does that answer your question?"

"More than answered it… but yes, thanks."

His father cleared his throat, and sounded paternal again when he spoke. "Good. Now we ought to get back inside before we're missed," he said, then added in a conspiratorial tone, "before Granny Pam decides we've gone missing and sets the local constabulary into motion."

Andrew chuckled. "Yeah."

They heard the soft sound of the patio door swing open then closed again, and simultaneously they turned to see Bridget. She looked fairly distraught as she came forward towards her husband.

Dad gathered her in his arms. "Darling, what's the matter?"

"My mother is the most embarrassing woman in existence," she said, then turned to Andrew. "She caught your friend talking to Grandpa Colin, and is now regaling Justin with paddling pool stories. My paddling pool stories."

Father and son locked eyes as she leaned against Mark's shirt, and both were obviously fighting a laugh. Mum continued, "Why must she do this? Why do I let her? I'm a grown woman…"

"It's all right," said Andrew, wrapping his arms across his mum's back, and hugging her too. He felt his father's hand on the top of his head, patting gently before moving to his shoulder.

"All you need," said Dad softly, "is a little comfort from your boys."

She made a contented sound, and it made Andrew smile to hear it.

Maybe it was the evening sky, the stars just emerging against the dark of the night, the romantic story he'd just been told, or a combination of all of those things, but Andrew suddenly felt the urge to go back indoors and leave his mum and dad to have a moment alone. "I think, though," he said after some quiet moments in this familial embrace, "that I'd better go and rescue Justin before Granny Pam moves on to my paddling pool stories, and I know she carries photos in her purse."

Both of his parents chuckled as his dad let go of him, as he let go of his mum, and he and his father shared a meaningful look as he stepped back, she still secure in his arms. He saw his father mouth the words thank you as Andrew retreated back into the house.

………

The remainder of that summer seemed to fly by in the blink of an eye. One thing was plain to Justin: Drew's parents always made time for him, evident in the excursions to Stonehenge and Stratford (where Justin met perennial bachelor Uncle Hugh, whom Drew jokingly assured in private that he did not in fact have boyfriends), as well as to destinations within London itself, like to see a stage production, or to visit Auntie Tom again or see Auntie Shazzer and Auntie Jude. Justin liked them both, too, and with children close to their own ages, visits with either of them were always fun.

It might have been uncool to say so, but Justin even enjoyed spending time in Drew's parents' company. Though they were friendly and approachable, and though they talked to the boys like they were men and not children, they always retained their position of authority as parents. What was nicer to see even still was that after being together for so long, they still showered each another with affection, were still so obviously in love.

As the date of departure back to Eton approached, Justin started to feel a little depressed. Drew looked kind of down, too, even though they both very much looked forward to the challenges of the new year, their second to last. The whole of the summer had proven to be an eye-opening experience. He hoped he'd be asked to join Drew again for future holidays. The thought of going home to his own dull house and indifferent parents was almost more than he could bear; the contact with them he'd had over this holiday had always been initiated by him.

"Drew," asked Justin as they lay in their beds the night before their departure back to Eton, "you still up?"

"Yeah," came the reply from across the room.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"I don't know. Can you?"

Justin laughed. "Har, har. No, seriously, though. Do your parents always—" He stopped short, not sure exactly how to ask.

"Always what?"

"Always, I dunno, treat you like this? What I mean is, they weren't just being extra-nice to us because you have a guest, were they?"

Drew was silent there in the dark for a few. "No," said Drew. "I mean, yes. Yes, they're always like this, and no, it wasn't special treatment."

"Ah." He watched the lights from a passing car trail across the ceiling before he continued. "It really was the best summer I ever had. It was like… I finally got to know what it was like to have a brother."

"Yeah," said Drew. "Me too."

………

It was similar to a scene that had played out three times before, mother and son parting before his departure back to school. It was Andrew who had suggested to his father that Edmund drive himself and Justin back to Eton, as it was hard enough on her anyway to have to leave him there. "That way," he'd said, "you can console Mum without needing to navigate the road at the same time."

His father nodded, and smiled. "Very clever, son."

So Dad and Justin had gone down to take the bags to the car, leaving him with his mother in his room to say their goodbyes. She tried to smile, but there was no mistaking the quiver in her lip. "Each year that passes," she said in a tremulous voice, "it should get easier… but it doesn't."

He offered her a smile, but felt a little emotional himself. "I know, mum."

"And pretty soon," she said, "you won't even be coming back for holidays, all grown-up, girlfriends and trips abroad…"

It was when the tears started dropping from her eyes that he strode forward and put his arms around her, holding her tight and close. "Being grown-up does not mean I won't need you, Mum."

He could feel her nodding, could hear her managing a rather strangled, "I know." After a few more moments, she added, "It doesn't mean I won't miss the little boy you were."

I know, he thought, feeling a bit emotional himself. "You know," he said, hoping to lift her spirits, "I'm thought of as something of a freak at school for actually, you know, liking my parents."

It worked. She choked out a little laugh just as his father appeared at the door.

"Andrew," he said. "It's time to go."

He nodded, then looked down to his mother.

"You should go," she said, forcing a smile, though her red, swollen eyes bespoke her true feelings.

He bent and kissed her on the cheek as he took her hands. "I'll call soon. I promise."

She nodded.

"I love you, Mum."

She hiccoughed a sob. "I love you so very much, darling Andy."

He squeezed her hands before releasing them and walking towards his father, who surprised him with a hug of his own. "I love you too, son," he said in a surprisingly thick voice. "We'll talk to you soon."

"By video," Andrew reminded.

"By video," Dad echoed, then added quietly, "Now you'd better go. I have work to do here."

With a smile, he nodded, glancing back to his mum before leaving the room. He hadn't taken but a few steps when he heard her beginning to cry in earnest; it tore him apart to hear his mother in such distress, but it helped to know that his dad's 'work' consisted of consoling her. He knew how tough it was on both of them, but they wanted the best for their son, even at the expense of their own feelings.

When he got to the car, Justin handed him a can of soda. "All ready to go?"

Andrew nodded. "All ready."

As the car departed the drive, Justin went on about how he had anxiously thanked his parents for allowing him to stay with them for the summer, what an excellent time he'd had… but Andrew hardly heard a word.

He was too focused on watching his house disappear from sight.

The end.