Dear mum,

Hello. We made it to the shack, we're fine and we've settled in. We put all the food in the fridge and yes we will eat it rather than living on pot noodles. Happy? I'm sure Harry and Claire have already given you their field report to say that the house is in order and all the lights work and someone came round today to set up the wifi, hence the email.

We're both doing well. Jones is fiddling with Grandpa Hugh's old sound system and I've created a list of all the books I'll be reading from the study. Yep, we're living hard and fast.

The weather is cold but not too extreme. The sea is clear today and I dug out dad's old telescope. Jones wanted to try and see France through it but I pointed out that we were opposite Denmark and that he probably wouldn't see it, even on a clear day, and he was disappointed. Then he stumbled upon your crochet needles and a bag of wool in the bedroom so the first thing our internet was used for was Jones downloading a crochet tutorial. You'll probably be getting an ugly blanket for Christmas, just so you're prepared.

I don't really know what else I'm supposed to say but I knew you'd be wanting some sort of update and this is easier than calling you.

Love to you and dad,

Dan.

Dear Daniel,

It was a lovely surprise to wake up this morning and find an email waiting for me, thank you, but do try and get to bed before midnight in future.

I'm glad to read that you're both settling in well and please tell Jones to do whatever he pleases with the old record player, I'd forgotten it was there and he will get much more enjoyment out of it than anyone else. It's his if he wants it. The same applies to the wool and needles. The craft shop in the village should still be there and if he asks for Maurine I'm sure he will be able to pick up more patterns and yarn at a good price. I would be overjoyed to receive a blanket for Christmas and can't imagine anything made by that boy being even remotely ugly. I have no idea what to get the two of you for Christmas. It's less than one month away and I haven't even begun to plan for it. Is there something you would both like?

Your father has some unusual books in that study so do keep that in mind when you go exploring. He used to find taxidermy fascinating but in my opinion those books are just unsettling. There is however, a lovely collection of Sherlock Holmes books in there, which I do recommend and there's a bookshop just down from Maurine's. You could pick yourself up a cookbook if you like.

Do remember to continue with your exercises, love. I don't want you getting slack just because you're on holiday. You're still too thin and you need to build up muscle in that leg of yours. Jones too.

Also, darling when is Jones' birthday? I'd like to do something special for him.

Your father sends his love. He's retiring at the end of the year which just means that he'll be writing on his blackboard in the study rather than in a classroom but he says he has some interesting wires and circuit boards that he wants to show both Jones and Harry.

Harry's lovely, isn't he? He and Claire are back in London now, and it's very quiet again here. Harry's started his new job, working for a children's television channel of all things, and Claire has just gotten a job working for her friend, Leta. Have you met her? She sounds nice. Motherly, which is probably what Claire needs. Harry sent me an email as well, the other day, which is how I know what they're up to. He's a very good boy. Which is not to say that you and Jones aren't. I'm just glad that Claire has found someone with a bit of sense. There were a few years there when your father and I worried horribly about you both.

Anyway, I should be getting on. I'll be retiring soon as well, possibly at the end of next year, but I have a few projects that will be keeping me busy when I do. I was chatting to your friend Sasha only yesterday, she's a wonderful young woman, and I've put her in contact with some people who will be able to settle her into a good position once she graduates.

Goodness, look how much I've written. You probably won't read it all, but that's alright, I know you are busy with other things right now. I hope that you and Jones are enjoying your quiet time together. Early to bed remember.

Love,

Mum.

Dear Mum,

I am really hoping that you weren't making insinuations there, about Jones and me having 'quiet time' and how I'm 'busy with other things'. Inappropriate, mum. 'Early to bed?' Funny, but a bit scary. Jones blushed so hard I thought he was going to burst when he read that. Mum's aren't allowed to do that sort of thing. (Love you.)

We're fine by the way. We're both spending more and more time without the leg braces and I can walk properly again, though it does feel weird, like walking on cotton wool. I think Jones is a little upset that I've healed up better than he has. He's still in pain. I don't like it. I don't like seeing him hurt and frustrated. He's trying hard but the leg is just weak. The doctor says it might be like that from now on. But his shoulder is doing well and he was absolutely chuffed to be given permission to mess about with the record player. He's named it Hugh and has rigged it up to the laptop dad gave him. He's at the beach right now, recording the sound of the waves to use for some sort of new track he's creating.

I can see him from the window, so you don't have to worry that he'll get into trouble or anything.

I've never met Leta but she runs a soup kitchen and Claire is a bit frightened of her so I assume she's a good sort of person and, yes, Harry is wonderful and we are all very lucky to have him around. Claire is a lot more bearable with him around.

Yes, Sasha is lovely as well.

Jones' birthday is May 21st and he has met Maurine and she gave him a whole lot of free wool because she says he's a 'cute, London ragamuffin' and she's never heard of a man crocheting before. He's basically charmed the entire town. They were a bit wary of us at first but then Jones started referring to me as his boyfriend and holding my hand when we were getting chips and suddenly we're the lovable village queer couple.

Small town people are supposed to be less liberal than Londoners, so how did this lot get so gay friendly? Possibly it's just Jones. Probably it's just Jones. He's even going to be the DJ for the local Christmas dance. I made him promise to only play Christmas carols and family friendly pop songs and he's agreed because even if they make stupid, accepting grins when they see us out together I don't think they're quite ready for the full DJ Jones experience. It's a bit terrifying.

I'd forgotten how nice it was down here, Jones keeps pointing out that it smells different and sounds different and that the light is different here. He's in his element. If you wanted to get him some paints for Christmas or his birthday or something he'd like that. He's got itchy fingers and needs to be doing things all the time. He crochets in bed. I woke up to one of those hook things in my back this morning, which he thought was hilarious.

I've been writing a bit. It's not good but it passes the time. Dad's books are creepy.

I can't imagine you retiring but to be honest I thought that dad'd retired years ago.

Love,

Dan.

Dear Daniel,

I'm glad you're both doing well, tell Jones not to be too cross at his body, it's doing the best it can, and so is he. Sometimes things take longer than we would like.

After a long talk your father has agreed that a car journey to Hornsea is not in fact a bad idea and so it has been decided that he, Claire, Harry and I will be coming out to visit you two for Christmas. We'll be staying at the B&B on First Street so you don't need to panic about us all descending upon you and spoiling your privacy.

I'm pleased to hear that the locals have taken to you both. You are right, Jones is hard not to love, but so are you, dear. You are bristly and a bit standoffish but there's something about you that people seem drawn to. I think they see your intelligence without you realising it. Like a Romantic poet, brooding and sad, your father says, which is quite an observation from him, don't you think?

I'm glad that you're writing again too. I still have your short stories, the ones you wrote for school and college. They're really lovely, Daniel. I'd be honored to read any new stories, just to provide feedback, but I understand if having your mother read over your work would be a little embarrassing. You are a very talented young man, Daniel, even if you don't see it. I know that you know that you are intelligent but you are creative too, you just have to relax and let it happen.

And I did not mean to embarrass Jones. I may have meant to embarrass you but that is a mother's prerogative. I'm not so naive as to think that all you do is hold hands and kiss one another on the cheek. I've seen you do that enough times to know that it seems to be one of your favourite pass times but I know it isn't your only one. I also know that when too many things get in the way of a relationship rebuilding the physical side of things can be difficult and that as you both recover bodily you should be spending time together, in that way. Embarrassing but important. Grow up, Daniel, and show that young man of yours how much you love him, I mean it.

And did you know that Claire managed to get a new grant for her film? It's being sponsored by the Department of Education, which is wonderful news, and has made her feel much better about herself. She was feeling quite disgruntled about the whole thing.

My love to you both,

Mum.

Dear Mum,

Christmas sounds wonderful. I know you probably think I wrote that sarcastically but I actually mean it, it'll be good to do a family Christmas. And I have (almost) mastered the art of roast veg so we can have a home cooked meal and all. I made Jones bread and butter pudding yesterday. It turned out pretty well.

Also, thank you for taking an interest but please never ever try to talk to me about my sex life again. Ever. Even if you're tiptoeing around it with talks about rebuilding physical relationships. We're fine. We'll get to all that when we're ready, probably. But we won't be fine if I start thinking about you thinking about us going at it. Sorry mum, that's just the way it has to be.

Anyway, it's good to hear about Claire, she deserves a break.

I don't know about you reading anything I've written though, it's really not good. And I'm not that intelligent, I'm just smart enough to know that I'm more intelligent than the average idiot. Sorry. Plus, any talent I might have had has probably been burned out of me from all those years at the magazine. I wouldn't mind writing music reviews again but everything else is just mad scribblings and disjointed memories.

And a lot of it, it's a bit autobiographical. A lot of it's about Jones. I don't know if it'd be fair to show anyone before I show him. He hasn't been that happy the last few days. I'm not sure why, he's just, well, not that happy.

Maybe his leg hurts.

Love you.

Dan.

Dearest Daniel,

When you say, not that happy, what do you mean?

And don't worry about me being offended, love. It's your writing and your thoughts, I wouldn't want to intrude upon that. Writing is a very personal thing. You used to write poetry for a while, when you were a teenager. I've still got your notebooks, they're with the short stories you wrote, but I haven't read any of them. Poetry is like that, one needs to be invited. So if you don't want to show me what you're writing then that is perfectly alright.

Please give Jones my love. Tell him that we all love him very much. I am so looking forward to seeing you both soon. Christmas is in ten days and I just don't know what to get Claire.

Has Jones done his dj thing at the Christmas dance? How did it go?

Love to you both,

Mum.

Dear Mum,

Jones' DJing went fine. He was probably a little bored just playing 'normal' music but I think he had fun.

What do I mean by not happy? Mum, I'm not actually sure. Because we still haven't really done much more than kiss since we got here, which is fine, but I think he's blaming himself and I know I said we weren't allowed to talk about this but I'm worried that he thinks he's broken or that I'm not going to love him or find him attractive. He's never given a toss about the scar on my shoulder, from the chip pan, but he seems to think that I'm going to be disgusted by his scars. And I thought we were past it, I thought we'd had this conversation, but I think he's still stuck on it. During the day it's fine. He'll hold my hand when we go out and kiss me and let me kiss him and we'll hug. But at night he freezes up when I try to even touch him. I know it's only been a couple of months since he got hurt and I know I promised to give him time and I really don't care about the sex, I just want to be able to hold him and for him to not be scared.

And I don't know what to do. We're getting along fine, we talk, we laugh, we argue, we go for walks on the beach and to the chip shop and he's let me listen to the new music he's creating on his laptop and it's really brilliant. So amazingly brilliant. I've just about figured out how to play that stupid Minesweeper game on my computer and he's using his to create music that has so much meaning to it that it physically hurts.

But I don't know what to do.

I thought being here would make us closer, that we'd talk or something, but I'm no good at talking, still. You always seem to know what to say, Claire never shuts up, even dad mumbles while he works and knows how to control a class, but I can't manage a fucking conversation. With the person I love. In what way is that fair?

I want him to know that I'm in this for forever and that I'm never going to leave him but I don't know how. I can't write him a letter. I've thought about it but it's too formal and he'd panic and think it was just another way he wasn't good enough. He reads slowly and thinks it's because he's stupid and when I tried to tell him once that he's probably dyslexic he took that to mean that he's not only stupid but unworthy as well.

Sorry, mum. I don't know whether any of that made sense but I'm too scared to read back over it in case I chicken out and don't send it. So I'm hitting send now.

Love you,

Dan.

Dear Daniel,

I wanted to call you straight away when I read this as it has just popped up in my inbox, but it is ten past midnight and I don't want to wake you if you're sleeping. I will call you tomorrow but for now my love I want you to know that you do not need to apologise for writing to me about this and that you do not need to be embarrassed.

Daniel, I love you. And I'm sure Jones does too.

What he went through was hard, love. It was hard for both of you and it breaks my heart that you both went through so much and that I wasn't there to pull you out of it in time. I'm sorry, Dan.

And I'm sorry that your heart and mind are in such turmoil. I cried a bit reading your email because I could feel how much it was hurting you. But you are doing so well in giving Jones time and respecting his boundaries and limitations. I'm proud of you. And it could just be that what is needed is for you to continue to do just what you are doing until he finally feels comfortable again.

It is a hard situation my love, and you are doing a good job.

I did think, perhaps, that there might be other ways to show him how you feel, or to begin the conversation at least. Are there songs you could play him? Things you both like that would get across your meaning. Your father sometimes puts on Moon River, because it was in the first film he took me to, on our first date. It's his way of showing that he's thinking of me, and gives us an excuse to dance together and reconnect. Perhaps there are songs you and Jones share?

He's a very visceral, tactile sort of person. He's sensory, gustatory. Make him his favourite meal, make him another bread and butter pudding. Do something special with his coffee. I don't know if I'm helping or just bombarding you with suggestions, oh dear.

You could always show him your writings. Are they in a journal or notebook? I know you say he finds reading confronting but letting him read your own thoughts is a show of your trust in him and if he were allowed to take it away and read it at his leisure, perhaps that would remove some of his anxiety over needing to read at a certain pace? Or to respond in a certain way?

I wish I could fix this for you, love. I wish I could tell you to leave it with me and that it would just get solved. But it's too important and it's your hill to climb.

I will call you tomorrow, Daniel. And in the meantime I love you very, very much. You are a good boy, a good man I should say, and you are doing well and I am proud of you.

Goodnight, love.

Love,

Mum.