Mr Foley looks up at the American standing in front of him. Assesses him as he does with all potential tenants. Tall, muscled, sunglasses and rather loud. He's not heard the term 'Yo' since London in the War.
"It's a big flat." Foley hesitates, unwilling to put the man off, but at the same time, it's vast for one person. "You can take a look if you like?"
"Yeah, that'll be good." The man holds out his hand. Well-keep hands, Foley notices, hopeless at maintenance. Oh well. He looks like he'd be good for carrying things.
"My name is Jim Dempsey." The owner of the hands says as Foley shakes it and opens the door and begins the guided tour for the umpteenth time.
"Are you seeing any other places?" Foley asks, "Only we've got others interested in this." It's a lie, the rent has put most people off and there's reports of the whole building being haunted, there are nicer places in London. He's dropped the price as much as he dares, the owners won't like it but they like it less when it's empty.
"Can I make a call?" Jim asks.
Foley indicates the phone on the floor and listens as the young man calls someone called Harry. He seems to be an important person. Foley wonders if Jim is one of those men that likes other men. He doesn't care as long as he pays the rent on time.
"I'll take it." Jim says, "Harry said it was in a good location, it's got her approval."
'Harry?"
"Harriet." Jim explains, a gentle smile softens his face."My partner, How much and what do I need to do?"
Dempsey moves in later in the week. Foley looks at the assortment of suitcases and winces as the gym equipment bashes the sides of the lift. He hasn't seen this Harriet, yet but Jim has spoken of her often.
0000
"Good morning Harriet." Foley says as a woman with red hair emerges from Jim Dempsey's flat one night, looks somewhat flustered.
"I'm not Harriet." She stalks off. Foley doesn't see her again.
When Jim comes down to collect his dry cleaning, and brings a bunch of flowers for Mrs Foley's birthday, nobody mentions it.
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He sees no women again for a few months. Then a blonde lady with blue eyes appears. She keeps looking at Jim, her gaze steady and affectionate as they talk about Mrs Foley's health. Foley declines the offer of a lift to the hospital today, he can tell Jim wants to spend time with his lady.
"Meet Harry," Jim remembers, "My friend, Mr Foley, he takes care of everything here."
'Harriet, I've heard a lot about you." Foley gives a gentle bow and chuckles at her incredulous look at Jim, He dare to give them a nudge. "I was beginning to wonder if my friend here had taken a vow of celibacy."
Jim bits on his lip and winks at Foley as they walk away. His hand tentatively grazes the lower back of his partner.
Mrs Foley waves at them from the landing when they leave in the morning. His wife reports that Harry is in the same clothes as yesterday. Her lipstick is on his mouth. When the lift gets stuck, Foley finds them flustered and grinning on the floor.
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Foley looks bewildered at the woman with the spiky hair. Harry was only here yesterday. He is disappointed that Jim mucking her around. He consults Mrs Foley who says it's very strange and suggested that maybe he needs to ask Jim, and not lose his temper or leap to conclusions.
00000
"It's about your Aunt." Foley begins carefully, as he catches Jim by the front door.
"Thelma? She's great isn't she?" Jim smiles and pulls Harry closer to him. "We're going to take her out tonight.
"Are we?" Harry looks suspicious.
"Yes, she is my aunt, it's not a code for a conquest. I told you, you're the only woman for me." Jim pinches Harry's nose. "What about my aunt?"
"She's drinking sherry with my missus, talking about wanting to meet Harry…"
00000
"Are you moving in together?" Foley looks sadly at the keys. He hopes there's a happy ending.
"Not quite." Jim pats his friend on the back. "Closer to her. Gotta play by the rules sometimes."
Jim comes back in a few weeks, with Harry, to take Foley to his wife's funeral.
00000
Foley stands by the mantlepiece in his flat, waiting for the taxi.
"Do I look smart?" He asks of the photo of his wife, taken on their wedding day some 40 years ago. The day he's never forgotten or any of the years that followed.
He went to the barbers and is dressed in a smart shirt and suit. The nice chaps, Fry and Watson, who share Jim Dempsey's old apartment, helped him to buy it. He picks up the card and a small gift, a house plant, for their new home just outside the city.
Carefully, he props up the invitation that arrived a few months ago. Written in Harry's neat handwriting, it requested his presence at her wedding to James Dempsey at Chelsea Registry Office and the reception to follow. "I won't stay too late and I'll keep off the sherry."
He clears his throat, aware that Fry and Watson will be here to collect him soon. It won't do to be tearful on such a happy day.
"I wish you were here."