4. A Conversation by the River
Now that the dark held no fear, Archibald Snatcher and Herbert Trubshaw made a habit of convening after hours, when all other humans were asleep. Archibald didn't tell his parents of the late-night meetings, making sure to creep in and out quietly and blaming the one incident of a broken window on drunken delinquents. Gabriel and Amelia noticed him developing a greater tendency to nap in the middle of the day, but still suspected nothing.
Herbert had attempted, for a while, to bring all of his friends together. But while Fish was open to the idea, Shoe and Archibald were both visibly uncomfortable with having to be in proximity of each other, and out of respect, Herbert decided to split his time between them all again. One night ago, he had spent some time working on bigger schematics with Fish and Shoe, but tonight was his night with Archibald.
The two boys made their way down to the lower reaches of town, across a bridge, all the way to a secluded spot on the riverbank that it didn't look like anyone had ever touched. "Perfect," Herbert muttered as the waters came into view; he clutched a small wooden boat that was almost magnetically drawn to the surface.
The pair settled down on the bank, then Herbert beckoned, "Watch!" He wound a circular paddle on his boat, twisting up stretchy bands and setting mechanisms into motion, before letting the craft loose upon the river, watching it speed of its own accord across the water, its paddle propelling it furiously.
"It works!" Herbert cried. "IT WORKS!"
The boat promptly ran out of momentum and stalled in the middle of the river.
"And how did you plan on getting it back?" Archibald teased.
Herbert, crestfallen, realized he absolutely had not planned for that. "Oh well," he sighed. "I can always build another one." He took up the other item he had carried down to the riverside: a jar of grape jelly. Nowadays, he said it was his favorite food, and he always had enjoyed it quite a bit, but it had risen in his good graces once he realized it was something that was safe for Archibald to eat. Uncapping the jar, he set it down on the ground, and both boys' fingers dipped in to retrieve the sweet substance. As they both went for the food, their hands brushed, and Archibald wondered how it was that he should notice this but Herbert seemed not to be fazed at all.
"If I can refine the steam engine to work on water," Herbert mused, "I could install it in the next boat and propel it farther."
"That still wouldn't get it to come back when you wanted it," Archibald pointed out.
Herbert shrugged. "Then I'll build a third."
"You'd clog this river with boats, wouldn't you?"
Herbert sighed. "No, THAT'S not what I want. It would only pollute the river. Perhaps I have to keep thinking." Perhaps Fish and Shoe will have some ideas, he thought, though he didn't voice the sentiment out loud.
"Well, you know where to find me when you've got the next one worked up," Archibald reminded his friend.
"Of course!" Herbert replied.
They sat in silence for a while longer, cleaning out the jelly jar.
"Are you quite all right?" Herbert asked. "Usually, you've got a bit more to say."
"Does it truly not bother you, what they say about us?" Archibald asked. A subject had been weighing heavily on his mind for a while, and he figured it was about time he lightened the load; he knew by now he could trust Herbert. "That we're…involved. That we're queer."
"Not one bit," Herbert stated confidently. "Does it bother you?"
"Not most days. Of course, if the Portley-Rinds buy in, it will be that much harder to attain a White Hat."
"But not impossible."
"No, not impossible," Archibald repeated. "Or…it wouldn't be, if the rumors were completely off the mark."
"Archibald, are you saying what I think you're saying?" Herbert looked to his friend in concern.
"I am," Archibald admitted, not making eye contact but instead fixing his gaze on the surface of the water. "We may not be together, but what they think about me is…well, it's quite true. I am…one of that sort."
And as soon as he'd confessed, he realized that the weight had only gotten heavier. It really wasn't something he should have admitted to anyone, he thought, and now Herbert was likely going to be repulsed and tell his secret to everyone he could find come morning…
"That's all right," Herbert said softly.
Not the response Archibald had been expecting, but the one he had been hoping for.
"After all, it's rather arbitrary, isn't it?" Herbert went on. "That men should only love women, and vice versa. Who's to say two men can't love each other, or two women? Is it because they can't bear children that way? Because that's ridiculous. I've often wished there was a way for someone to bear a child without having to involve another parent. I do so want children when I grow older, but I sometimes fear I'll never be married…I'm sorry. I've just made it about me. I didn't mean to. What I do mean to say is that it doesn't matter to me one bit whether you love women or other men. You're my friend, Archibald. That's not going to change because of this. And I know no one else would take this well. I swear to secrecy upon my very life. I won't tell a soul. Not human nor Boxtroll nor alley cat."
And now the weight was removed, and replaced with a different presence entirely. Archibald looked at his friend to be met with an honest smile. "Thank you, Herbert," Archibald replied. "You've…no idea what it means."
Herbert casually reached over to pat his friend on the shoulder. "Any secret you have will be safe with me."
"Is that so?" Archibald blurted. "Because I've another, you know. A lot of times, when we get an order at the shop for a particularly beautiful dress that turns out to fit me, I try it on. Father caught me at it once and made me swear he'd never see me wearing such things again, and I kept my promise. He's never SEEN me in another gown. I'm just more careful now, and…" He stopped himself short. Perhaps that was too far to test the boundaries of Herbert's secret-keeping. "I…er…"
"Do you even wear the high shoes?" Herbert asked.
"Yes," Archibald replied.
"I've often wondered how women keep their balance in those high shoes," Herbert admitted. "I knew you had a good sense of balance, but you must be very graceful to be able to walk in those shoes."
"I'd like to think I am," Archibald stated rather boastfully. So he really could trust Herbert with anything, it seemed.
"If I put a pair on, I doubt I'd get far," Herbert sighed.
"Well, we could test that out," Archibald suggested. "Later tonight, even. They're not as beastly as you think."
"Then I am up to the challenge!" Herbert announced. After giving it some more thought, he supplied, "I should think you'd want a white gown to go with your eventual White Hat."
"It would only be fitting," Archibald agreed. "Though if I were to dress as a woman while in the position of White Hat, I might just have to disguise myself fully and pretend to be someone else in order to not be found out. Though…that would be fun indeed." He grinned at the thought. "I fancy myself a decent actor. I bet I could convince the entire town I was someone else."
"If anyone could, it would be you," Herbert agreed.
"Though I'd need a new name for the second identity," Archibald mused. "Something with flair. Something frilly. Something…what's the word…"
"Frou-frou?" Herbert suggested.
Click.
"That's it, Trubshaw," Archibald realized. "That's not just the word; it's the NAME. Madame Frou Frou. And no one would ever know!"
"I like the sound of it!" Herbert agreed.
Archibald realized there was a question on his mind. Whether it was new or one that had percolated for a while, he couldn't quite say. "Trubshaw…"
"Yes?"
"Are you…?"
"Am I what?"
"Are you like me?"
"Well, I can't say I think I would look any good in a gown, but you – "
"Not that," Archibald corrected. "What we spoke of earlier. Boys who…fancy other boys."
"Oh, that." Herbert shook his head. "I'm not. The night we met, I had a rather unfortunate infatuation with Cynthia Grey, and I had tried to speak to her, only for her to refuse to even greet me and instead tell her acquaintances some rather mean things about my manner of dress and my parents. I can hardly think of a more unfortunate person to fancy."
"Try Charles Portley-Rind," Archibald replied. "The same night."
"Oh…" Herbert realized the full implications of what had gone on that night. "He was indefinitely worse. I'm very sorry."
"You've nothing to apologize for."
"You deserve a man far better than him," Herbert stated. "A dreamer, like you. As for Charles and Cynthia, they very well deserve each other."
"Earlier tonight, you said you didn't believe you'd be married," Archibald recalled. "Why not?"
"Haven't you noticed after all this time we've spent together?" Herbert pointed out. "I'm odd."
"Yes, you are. And that's your charm, Trubshaw."
"You flatter me!"
"Now, are we going to put you in a pair of high shoes, or not?"
Herbert and Archibald left the riverbank, taking the jelly jar with them – Herbert was sure it would come in handy as part of some device or another. They started out across the bridge back into town.
Archibald caught Herbert looking over the side of the bridge. "What are you looking at?"
"I can see the boat," Herbert answered.
The bridge was old, and had not been given maintenance in a long while. It was practically a Portley-Rind tradition to ignore complaints of bits of town breaking down, especially when it came to crumbling bridges. The stones directly underneath Herbert's feet and part of the railing immediately gave way, plunging Herbert down into the waters below with a scream.
"TRUBSHAW!" Archibald was thrown into a panic, his heart racing. Without a second thought, he dove over the side of the bridge after Herbert, plunging into the river water.
Herbert was miraculously easy to locate; Archibald's hand brushed against his arm almost immediately. Archibald gathered Herbert's body into his arms, making a direct course upward, desperately hoping it wasn't too late as he broke the water's skin and entered the sphere of air. It took him a moment to realize Herbert was laughing.
"What's FUNNY?" Archibald snapped. "You very nearly drowned!"
"No, I didn't!" Herbert argued. "I was just about to swim my way to the surface!"
"Why are you LAUGHING?"
"Because I fell right off the bridge and into the water! It's self-writing comedy!"
Archibald let go of Herbert, pushing him away. The duo tread water for a moment, Archibald glaring sullenly at the still-smiling Herbert, before Archibald turned to swim in the opposite direction.
"Where are you going?" Herbert called after him.
"Might as well get your blasted boat now that we're down here!" Archibald called back.
Herbert made for the opposite bank, and Archibald arrived there some time afterward, bringing the small boat with him. He roughly shoved the contraption at Herbert. "I thought you were going to die, you know."
"And I'm very grateful you came to save me."
"I can't take my eyes off you for a moment, can I?"
"Give me more credit than THAT, Archibald!"
On the way back to Snatcher's Stitches, Archibald lightened up about the whole incident, mostly just glad that Herbert was safe and sound. He silently stole in and out of the shop, carrying with him a pair of high-heeled shoes. "Just be careful with them," he whispered as he and Herbert moved to the adjacent alley.
Herbert eagerly stepped into the shoes, standing somewhat shakily. "You're right," he observed. "They're really not bad – "
He stumbled and flailed to keep his balance. "I'll get the hang of it," he told Archibald, who was watching with a rather wide grin.
Herbert decided to prove himself by walking the length of the alley and coming back. And he very nearly made it; it was only a couple steps away from returning to his point of origin that he lost balance completely and went tumbling.
Archibald was there to catch him in a quick stride, his arms hooking underneath Herbert's and stopping him before he could hit the stone hard.
"I seem to be falling every which way tonight," Herbert laughed. "Quite lucky I've got you to catch me."
"Yes…quite," Archibald muttered, wondering all over again how Herbert was completely unable to hear his heartbeat, as it was thundering in his own ears. "The fact remains that I can not only skate circles about you, but walk circles about you in these shoes as well."
"Care to prove it?" Herbert asked mischievously.
Archibald hadn't expected that. "I think I will. Just give me the shoes first."
They performed a swap of shoes, and Archibald kept his gaze and a sly grin fixed upon Herbert as he walked, skipped, even turned a twirl in the high-heeled footwear.
"I should have known!" Herbert cried. "After all, you're so graceful on the ice."
As of that moment, Archibald could take little more. "The hour's grown quite late. We should part ways."
"Well, all right," Herbert replied, gathering up his boat. "I'll see you soon!"
"I'll be seeing you soon as well."
...
After replacing the shoes, Archibald rushed to his room, closing the door quietly and quickly. His heartbeat seemed all the more thunderous now that he was no longer in the company of a fellow human being. Images and sensations rushed through his mind: hands brushing on the way to the same jelly jar, that kind and accepting smile, clutching tight to the body of the one he'd thought might drown, breaking his fall, hearing his praise, hearing his laughter. And he knew there was one final secret he couldn't tell Herbert Trubshaw, not ever.
A squeak emitted from the cage across the room, as though Framley could sense his master's disquiet. "Framley," Archibald hissed, "something's happened, and I'm not quite sure how to handle it. Might as well tell you; I can't tell anyone else."
He moved even closer to the cage, whispering in the softest of voices, "I think I've fallen in love with Herbert Trubshaw."