'Should I change, do you think?'

Jonathan had knocked up a batch of scones and sent them into the oven, made a pot of tea, and all without doing more than taking off his jacket and wrapping himself into an apron. Now he looked towards Gethin with doubt in his eyes.

'Up to you,' Gethin said. 'I suppose it depends on if you want Peter and Gordon to think you dressed up just for Ivan, or if this is your normal Sunday gear.'

'No, it depends how I feel at the time,' Jonathan said. 'And today I felt like, this is me, this is me with Gethin, on Sunday, deal with it.'

'Fair enough. Peter and Gordon can deal with it too, then. I was thinking, downstairs in the back room? I've never invited Peter up, you see...'

'Oh, okay. They don't take long, scones. And these are proper scones, not like those plaster-of-Paris ones we had at the book fair. Come and get your tea.'

The knock came at the door half an hour or so later; at a guess, it seemed that Peter and Gordon had stayed for all of visiting at the hospital.

'Not that it was an entirely happy time,' Peter said with mild disapproval as he took a seat at the table in the back room. 'Poor Ivan was quite down…'

'That's the thing with, Ivan,' Gethin said. 'Morose, at times.'

'Well, he'd every reason to be a bit glum today,' Peter said. 'After your little stunt...'

'Excuse me!' Jonathan protested, prowling behind the table to pour tea and pass round scones. 'If it had been a stunt, we'd both have been wearing frocks.'

'No…!' Peter protested, the glance he gave Gethin echoing his disbelief. 'Gethin wouldn't do drag!'

'What makes you say that?' Jonathan asked, a bland smile on his face that Gethin was starting to recognize as Jonathan-being-careful-not-to-show-his-true-feelings.

'Well, he just wouldn't…!' Peter expostulated, blustery. 'Would you, Gethin?'

It felt as if the question was lying on the table next to the scones and they were all staring at it. Jonathan's hand rested lightly on Gethin's shoulder as he pushed a mug of tea towards him.

Well, Gethin? Would you?

He could almost feel Jonathan asking it…

'I might,' he blurted. 'I mean, not on stage, not… that's performance art, beyond my skills. But like Jonathan today, why not?'

Jonathan's fingers convulsed on his shoulder, and relaxed, and Gethin felt he'd avoided some kind of disaster. It did cross his mind to wonder whether this might be a conversation Jonathan would want to continue at a later date, but for the moment, he hid behind his tea.

Jonathan took the last empty chair and smiled his bland smile again.

'What's this, Gethin?' he asked, picking up one of Maeve's flyers. 'A book title challenge?'

Glad of the chance to change the subject, Gethin nodded.

'You can blame yourself for it, really.' He grinned and nodded at Jonathan. 'First time he came in here, asked if I had "Fairies on the Doorstep". Turned out it's an actual book, and the idea came from there. Found a few more titles at a book sale, decided it'd make a good display for the shop; you know, not judging a book by its cover, that sort of thing…'

'Seems doubly appropriate at the moment,' Jonathan said with a smile.

'Anyway, we don't really have enough for a proper display, so Maeve said, run a competition. Any contributions gladly received.'

The contest, the books already found, the idea of a social evening to announce winners filled in a good few minutes while the tea was drunk, the scones cooled enough to be buttered and jammed and eaten, and the mood settled a little. Still, Gethin had the feeling Peter hadn't finished on the topic of Ivan and so wasn't surprised when he turned the conversation back to less entertaining matters than "Invisible Dick" and "Shag the Caribou"…

'Well, this is all very nice, but really, you know… about Ivan,' Peter began, looking into his empty mug. 'He really wanted to talk to you.'

'But I didn't really want to talk to him. I went, though, didn't I? And you knew we were going and you turned up, too. What was that about?'

Peter sighed and tilted his head on one side.

'To be honest…'

'It was my idea,' Gordon said. 'I've known Ivan a long time and, well…'

'You know, it's funny, that,' Jonathan put in, his voice amicable. 'There are quite a few people I know who've known Ivan a long time. Yet none of them have gone out with him, and all of them are really keen to pass him on to other blokes. Is it because he can't choose his own friends, or because he's out of town so often? Or is it something else?'

Gordon flushed and Peter looked down at his plate.

Jonathan nodded. 'Thought so. He's the sort of bloke you meet and think, oh he's interesting, he might be fun, and then you find out… maybe not quite your type… but he manages to make you feel bad for not being interested, and you find some other poor bugger to try and palm him off on.'

'Not me,' Gethin said. 'It was never going to be me, regardless. Peter, I've told you, I've told him… well, we both told him, Jonathan and me. And I'm glad you came over today, because I was almost feeling a bit guilty about it.' He shook his head. 'Not now, though.'

'Well, I'm sorry, Gethin, and I don't want to fall out with you about Ivan,' Peter said. 'We're just passing on a message…'

'When you say, 'we'…?'

'Me,' Gordon said, 'you can blame me, it's okay, Pete, that's how it is, you tried, no blame… Ivan wants to talk to you one last time, Gethin. He thinks he's going to be deported…'

'Oh, good grief…!' Jonathan muttered.

'…and he's hoping you can say something to help his case. That's all. That's really all.'

'Not particularly bothered, to be honest with you,' Gethin said with a hunch of a shoulder. 'Probably easier for us if he isn't in the country…'

He sighed as Jonathan smiled across at him, a kind, encouraging smile.

'I should go, I suppose. But not alone.'

'We'll go with you,' Gordon said.

'No, because you're biased. Jonathan?'

'You could say I'd be biased, too, Geth-love. But I'll go with you and wait outside.'

'We'll all end up going at this rate!' Peter said. 'And the three of us waiting in the corridor, peering through the door to make sure nothing goes wrong… no, it's too silly. I'm sure we can trust Gethin to sort something out.'

'I will, I will. But with the shop… it's not going to be easy.'

'Get your girl to mind the place,' Peter suggested.

'No,' Jonathan said. 'Ask her to go with you. She's straight, and about as impartial as you're going to get. Pay her train fare, treat it as overtime… she might do it.'

'All right, I'll ask. But I don't know when it'll be, there's meetings this week that I have to be here for.'

'Tomorrow wouldn't be a good idea anyway, that's when he's having his operation,' Gordon said. 'The anesthetic, and everything. So that's all right. Have you got Peter's number? You could ring and let us know when you're going.'

'I have, and I could,' Gethin said. 'But I won't; instead, I'll let you know when I've been. All right?'

Gordon looked about to grumble, but Jonathan got to his feet and lifted the tea pot.

'More tea anyone?' he asked, interrupting neatly. 'Yes? No? Well, I think I'll make a fresh pot anyway.'

'I think that's a signal for us to go,' Peter said, getting to his feet.

'Or to stay and have more tea?' Jonathan said, waving the tea pot.

'No, no, we'll get out of your hair…' Peter sighed and forced a smile. 'The scones were lovely, though… Gethin, do let us know how you get on.'