Chapter Twelve: First Date

The journey back to the shop passed in a surreal blur for Gethin. Jonathan insisted on helping carry the books – they'd found several more to add to the collection – and bounced along behind, ahead, off to the side, not so much walking with Gethin as orbiting him.

As they took seats on the tube and Jonathan perforce had to sit still for a while, Gethin remembered Maeve's kite analogy with a smile. Not that today Jonathan had been adrift, as if someone had let go of his string, but more as if he was determined to ignore the fact that there even was such a concept as string to begin with. As for the journey itself, Jonathan spent it alternating between talking, questioning, laughing, and silently listening and smiling.

'Could wish this carriage was a bit fuller,' he said softly to Gethin as the train pulled out of the station. 'We'd have to squeeze up a bit. I'd like that, wouldn't you?'

And Gethin had laughed and agreed that, yes, yes he wouldn't have minded that, not really.

Not at all, in fact.

They made it to the shop at around ten to five, Maeve looking up and smiling so hard to see the two of them together that she dimpled.

'Good day?' Gethin asked.

'Fine, no problems, quite a few sales, lots of enquiries about meetings...' She looked beyond him to Jonathan and smiled even more. 'I see your friend found you, then?'

'What?' Gethin asked, and Jonathan came forward to lean on the counter and look at Maeve with something akin to adoration in his beautiful brown eyes.

'Miss Bookshop, I could kiss you.'

'Oh, that sounds wonderful!' she said. 'Except I don't think your heart would be in it, or that my boss would approve...'

'Ha! You deserve a raise, darling. Geth, whatever you're paying this girl, it's not enough.'

'I know, but why, particularly?'

'When I came in today, she told me exactly where you'd gone and that I should stop being silly and do something about it. So you see, it wasn't really a coincidence that I was at the book fair... although, in fairness, I had intended going on Saturday... Old cookery books, that's my thing.'

'Old cookery books. No wonder you knew how to make a decent caul.'

'Oh, if you think that was good, you should see my fairy cakes.'

He winked, causing Maeve to giggle almost hysterically and cover her mouth with her hand.

'Oh, I am sorry!' she gasped. 'It was just how you said it...'

'Which is exactly why I said it how I said it, my dear...'

'All right, Jonathan, stop flirting with the staff, go sit down through there somewhere.' Gethin waved towards the back room. 'Take your coat off.'

'You don't mind me telling him, do you?' Maeve asked wistfully when Jonathan had swished through the beaded curtain. 'Only, he seems really keen, and nice, and when you knew you'd missed him the other day you did sound disappointed, you know...'

'No, I don't mind,' Gethin said. 'This time. Because it's Jonathan. All right, thank you again for minding the shop, see you tomorrow.'

'Thanks, Gethin.' Maeve grabbed her coat and her bag from beneath the counter. 'Bye.'

Gethin locked up, turned the sign to closed, and went through to the back room where Jonathan had made tea and found the biscuits.

'There's a meeting tonight,' Gethin said. 'Some political thing, starts at seven thirty. That's their biscuits, but since they don't pay for them...'

'Socialism in action,' Jonathan said, 'share and share alike.'

'That's the only thing with the meetings; I have to be around to get them started and clear up after. I usually sit in, make sure things don't get out of hand.'

'That's a lot of extra work. Hope it pays well?'

Gethin shook his head.

'They can't afford it. If I didn't let them use the back room, they wouldn't meet. Anyway, it passes the evenings. I keep Saturday nights free, usually, and not every group meets every week; I get a couple of free nights, mostly. There's a list... I suppose I'm trying to say, I have plenty of free time, but not for going out, not really...'

'Well, when I'm working, it tends to be afternoon rehearsals, evening performances,' Jonathan said. 'Not entirely dissimilar.'

'So there's a couple of hours, if you'd like to have an early supper. Maybe. Little place round the corner does a good chicken in a basket?'

'Oh, such culinary elegance!' Jonathan laughed. 'You know, I'd settle for bacon sandwiches and more tea; if it's all the same to you.'

'Come on up to the flat, then. Bring your tea, I'll see what I can find.

And, really, it was wonderful, better than dinner at the Ritz... good company, home-cooked food, cold beer.

They sat opposite each other at the little table with the red Formica top, doing that getting-to-know-you thing that is usually so excruciatingly terrifying, in case you get it wrong, in case the other person turns out to be awful, or you manage to make yourself sound like a complete fool, but it wasn't a bit scary, not really, not with Jonathan. He had a wealth of acting stories and knew how to dip in and out of them to change the pace, or how to ask a general question that still gave Gethin the chance to open up about himself, just a bit, just as much as he was easy with.

So Gethin admitted, yes, he knew a few words of Welsh, not too many, because you were encouraged to stick to English at school, forward-thinking they said it was, not to hang on to the old language, and besides, the old women of the villages liked that they could talk about you behind your back while standing in front of you in the shops and at bus stops. In return, Jonathan talked about an elderly mother, the family home – 'She still keeps my room tidied out for me, I stay, sometimes, and she lets me keep a lot of my bits and pieces there... obviously, not everything... she'd be pinching my handbags and wearing all the jewellery to whist drives...'

Gethin laughed.

'I haven't made a point of telling her, and she's never brought it up,' Jonathan went on. 'Suppose I've been independent long enough that I don't feel the need, really. Some would say it's cowardice, me, I think it's kindness, really. She's a lot older – well, mothers generally are older, but I mean... she had me late, she's just... it could be too much for her. She's a sweetie. Wouldn't want to upset her.' He paused, tipping his head to one side. 'Tricky things, families.'

This was Gethin's opportunity to speak up, he knew, but he couldn't quite bring himself to spoil the mood, and when he didn't answer, Jonathan tipped his glass and drained down the remains of his beer.

'Well, time I wasn't here... you'll be needing to prepare for your politicals.'

'You're welcome to stay,' Gethin said. 'I can just get the group sorted out and come back up...'

Jonathan sighed and got to his feet.

'It's tempting, but... always leave them wanting more, as they say. Don't want to wear out my welcome, not when it was such a nice welcome...'

'No danger of that,' Gethin said softly. 'I'll walk you down, then. You've got the number for the flat, and the shop?'

'Yes, thanks. And thank you – it's been lovely, really. You've got Saturday free, you said?'

'I have, yes.'

'We could go out, if you wanted. A drink, maybe?'

'I'd like that.'

The foot of the stairs. As soon as Gethin opened the front door, Jonathan would go out through it, and it seemed like forever until Saturday...

'Sorry it wasn't a more exciting first date, but thank you for staying.'

'No, I meant it – just getting to know you, a bit, was lovely. People don't sit and talk enough, do they?'

'Probably not. Well.'

'Well.' Jonathan seemed to be waiting for something, his smile becoming perhaps a little fixed. 'Gethin, if this was a date, shouldn't it end with more than 'Well', don't you think?'

'Oh, gosh, sorry.'

Gethin felt himself flush, and stepped forward to kiss Jonathan on the cheek. Before he could step back, strong hands held him and his face was gently turned.

'Oh I think we both know you can do better than that... unless you don't want to?'

'No, of course I...'

And Jonathan kissed him.

It was like the last time, only better, or it was as if that kiss had never ended, that all this time had been spent locked inside Jonathan's aura, his own arms hugging tight, the heat of Jonathan's breath, and the soft warmth of his mouth, the spike of Gethin's senses, and he was trembling, shaking, his heart knocking, and knocking and...

No, there really was a knocking, and he broke out of the kiss, laughing and smiling and apologising, shaking his head as someone outside kept hammering on the door of the shop, the noise echoing through the walls.

'Just a minute!' he shouted. 'See, that's why – didn't think I'd be able to stop, if I started.'

'I know what you mean,' Jonathan said, reluctantly stepping back. 'Well, do your shopkeeper stuff, then. I'll sidle out, save your blushes...'

'No, why should you?' He unlocked the front door, poking his head out to where the secretary of that night's group was waiting. 'I'll be round in a minute, Mike. Got a friend visiting.'

On the doorstep he thought he saw a challenge in Jonathan's eye, and grinned.

'I don't think we'd quite done, had we, Jonathan? My turn.'

And while he wasn't, perhaps, quite as thorough as Jonathan had been, and there was a stunned silence from the waiting secretary, it was still wonderful.

'About Saturday,' Jonathan said, squeezing Gethin's shoulders with his hands. 'Can I bring some things over and get ready here? Is that all right? I thought we could try 'The Frog in a Tutu', get there around eight before it gets busy...?'

'Yes, fine, I'll look forward to it.'

'Goodnight, then. Thanks again for a great day.'

'Come on, Gethin, it's freezing out here!' the secretary called across.

'All right, Mike! With you in a minute.' He waved Jonathan off, locked up, crossed through to the shop and opened the door. 'Come in, then.'

'Are we not set up yet?' Mike asked. 'What's been going on? No, don't tell me – I can guess. You kept that quiet... Look my lot'll be here in ten minutes! And someone's been at the biscuits...'

'Remind me again how much you pay for the use of the room. And refreshments?'

'Fair point.' Mike headed for the stacked plastic chairs and began to unstack them and spread them in rough lines in the room while Gethin loaded cups onto a tray near the kettle ready for tea break. 'We've got a guest speaker tonight, you staying?'

'No, don't think so, thanks. I'll be down at nine to see you out, though. Right, that's you, then. Have a good meeting, see you later.'

He went back up to his flat and saw it as if he'd just come back from holiday, noticing the things out of place with an inward cringe of embarrassment, and taking in the evidence that two people had been here, two, not one... he cleared away the dishes, thinking, absurdly, that this was Jonathan's, he'd used this glass, that plate, this fork had touched his mouth, his hands had been on this cup, his body sat on this chair...

Washing up done, he switched on the television and sat down on the other end of the sofa to where he usually sat, curling himself up in the memory of this was where Jonathan had lounged, arm spread along the back of the sofa almost on Gethin's shoulders, and tried to imagine there was still some latent warmth from his guest there, amongst the cushions.

And even though it felt as if Saturday was forever away, he could smile when he thought about it and at least, for the first time in ages, he had a Saturday to look forward to.