Three chapters to go. And I still don't know if I like it.
Howard was nervous. He opened his back pack and retrieved his packed lunch, staring down at the sandwiches in front of him. He'd packed two sets of sandwiches for the trip; one set that he could eat on the journey, and one set that were to be saved until he arrived. He took a thoughtful bite of bread and bovril and thought back to the day last week when he'd finally received the letter, the summons.
...
'Dear Howard,
I hope you're doing alright. Been thinking of me? I've been thinking about you. Probably too much. But I finally realised that there's something I've been meaning to tell you for a while now, but I haven't.
The thing is, Howard, I love you. And not just as a mate, although I do love you as a mate. You're my best friend, Howard, and I'll always love you. But I love you in the other way too. You know, in THAT way. Turns out I'm as rubbish at writing this as I am at saying it.
I love you, Howard. I've always loved you and I've been in love with you in a romantic kind of way since I was about fourteen. At first I thought I could find a perfect time to tell you and then I thought I could just deal with it. But I couldn't. I'm sorry.
It's nice out here, Howard, and the the chateau is pretty genius, even if it's a bit run down. I've been trying to get it fixed up and it's just about ready. That's kind of why I'm writing this letter. I'd like you to come over. The time alone was great but I miss you. I found out who I am and it turns out that the person I am needs you. But before you come I need you to know how I feel about you. That I love you, like I wrote up there. So if you think that maybe, somehow, we could make it work between us, please come and find me. It's your turn, I reckon, since I've spent so much of my life chasing you. If you don't think you can do it, if you don't want to be with me, then that's fine. It really is. But if that's the case, please don't come. We've already said goodbye once. We'll just leave it there, where it ended.
I'll put in some directions for you to get here, if you do decide to come. You can't call me because I don't have a phone out here. Me without a phone, imagine that. But it's true. And I quite like it really.
So there you have it. I'll be waiting.
Love,
Vince Noir.'
...
Three months of nothing and then, finally, the letter. It had been beautifully written. The handwriting was messy but there wasn't a single spelling mistake. It seemed that Vince Noir had remembered that he really could spell after all. Or perhaps he'd finally learnt.
Howard had been sick with terror as he'd opened it, sick with nerves as he read it, sick with relief when he'd gone back and re-read the part where Vince said he loved him. He'd packed his suitcase then and there and had set off the next day, after he'd sorted out a few important things first.
He smiled gently as he looked at the other items in his pack, careful to make sure that none of the other passengers on the bus saw him do so. His smile had only gotten worse with age and he didn't want to scare anyone.
Two small pouches, one book, one lunch box, one map...
One more hour and he'd arrive at Bouzigues and from there, according to Vince's directions, it was a fifteen minute walk to Chateau Noir. He wasn't entirely sure what he would discover when he got there. He hoped Vince would be home and that he hadn't changed his mind.
He really hoped he hadn't changed his mind. Because Howard had finally made his up and he was determined to finally get things right.
This had to work...
It was a Tuesday after all.