In and around his daily routine, when he could spare a thought from Jonathan, Gethin thought about the dress, trying to, he didn't know how else to put it, desensitize himself to it. He looked at it first thing Friday morning before he went down to get breakfast. Lunch time, he made a point of picking it up and putting it on a hanger, moving it to the back of the door in his bedroom, stroking it.

Maybe tomorrow, he might be able to try it on?

Except he couldn't decide when would be best. First thing, so he had a finite timescale, wear it for a few minutes then change for the shop? But if it had a bad effect on him, that'd make him useless at work... similarly, lunch time was out... not before Jonathan rang, either, in case he did get upset and Jonathan heard it in his voice. Not before, or after, any of the groups, not...

Not yet, basically.

By the time he shut up shop on Friday afternoon, he'd decided he was being silly, and by Friday evening, waiting for the phone to ring, Jonathan in his break, he realised he was getting bored with the whole being-scared-of-a-bit-of-cloth thing, so while he sat in the living room with music on low and a bottle of beer for company, he brought the dress down and took it off its hanger, sitting with the folded frock on his lap and stroking it as if it were a cat.

The phone jangling, him up, answering, ignoring the puddle of fabric now on the floor.

'Jonathan?'

'Gethin-love?'

'Yes, how are you? How were rehearsals?'

'Glad they're done for the night. Been looking forward to talking to you all day...'

The conversation didn't last long enough, even with Gethin calling back. Promises of tomorrow, early, well, before nine, that's sort of early, isn't it?

'We could go out, if you like,' Jonathan said. 'Meet part way – where we changed lines, there's a few friendly pubs round there. Just a few drinks, then come back home to your flat?'

'Yes, all right. When and where, exactly?'

'I'll ring you tomorrow on my way out of the theatre, okay?

'Okay, I'll look forward to it.'

'Well, I'd better go. Goodnight, Gethin-love.'

'Goodnight, Jonathan. Sleep well.'

Buoyed by the promise of a night out and spent with Jonathan, Gethin returned from the phone holding on tight to the happy feeling. Not quite without thinking, he picked up the dress and put it on over his tee shirt and jeans, wrapping it round like a dressing gown and tying it loosely.

Felt fine.

Pretty sure it looked stupid, though.

Still, that didn't matter, what mattered was he was wearing it, he wasn't hyperventilating, or panicking.

Or looking in the mirror either.

Of course, that had been what sparked it off, he'd been okay until he'd actually seen what he looked like...

But that was enough for one day. Now he'd actually got round to facing the dress, he saw that the hard part had been just getting started, and that was done, now. Putting on a dress would never be so difficult ever again.

He didn't quite think he had the courage to go and meet Jonathan wearing it, hell no, not in a part of town he didn't know, even if he could usually take care of himself. But it was a beginning, he promised himself as he returned the dress to the darkest recess of the wardrobe; it wouldn't do for Jonathan to spot it and take it away, not now.

Gethin almost bounced through the day, grinning and shaking his head when Maeve asked him what had caused it.

'Going out with Jonathan tonight. Couple of drinks, back here after. It's hard work, this job for him, two roles, he's got, but it won't be for long and then it's only a two-week run.'

'Are you going to see him in it, when it's on? Can I come?'

'I'd like to, yes. That's a good idea, we could go together.'

'As long as he won't mind...'

She batted her eyelashes, and he laughed.

'Maeve, you're a treasure, you're a love, you're gorgeous. Just so not my type.'

'That's fine,' she said with a wink. 'It's mutual.'

To his surprise, everything went more or less according to plan through the day; First Quarterers actually liking the afternoon session, some of them spending money in the shop, too; he had plenty of time to close up, get a bite to eat, to wash and shave and change and wait for Jonathan's call.

Better yet, he was on time ringing, and Gethin's tube took him to the meeting place without more than the usual hassle.

Jonathan was there already, smiling as Gethin emerged from the entrance to the station.

'Been waiting long?'

'Half a fag.' Jonathan lifted a hand to show the glowing cigarette. 'Nice pub just down here. You'd better just imagine I'm kissing you hello, though.'

'I think I can manage that.'

The pub was busy, lively, new, neon lights and slick, sharp angles, a young clientele, couples, singles, young men sitting closer than was strictly necessary with nonchalant bravado. The jukebox was loud, punching out disco to which Jonathan hummed along while Gethin bought pints.

'Bloody hell, that didn't touch the sides!' Gethin exclaimed as Jonathan downed it in two goes.

'No, but it was nice, though.' He winked. 'In a bit of a hurry to get the weekend started, such as there is of it.'

'Bad couple of days? I know you try not to get into it too much on the phone...'

'Hard work.' Jonathan caught the barman's eye, got another round in even though Gethin had barely touched his pint yet. 'The new role... what can I say? They love me in it. I just wish they wouldn't say I'm a natural with quite so much pleasure... Shall we find a table? Been on my feet a lot today.' He lowered his voice. 'Heels, you know. Just to set a mood.'

They took their drinks over to a free table and sat down.

'So how were the First Quarterers?' Jonathan asked when they were settled.

'Loving the new time, their mums think it must all be very innocent, a nice group in a bookshop meeting in the afternoon, all tea and biscuits... of course, fact is, they roll up after a liquid lunch, some of them, and use it as a breather so they can sober up for the night session. Still, gives us the evening.'

Jonathan's second pint was gone; Gethin didn't comment, just went to the bar and got him another.

'Thank you, Gethin-love. There is a plan...'

'Oh, yes?'

'Yes. If I get drunk enough, I can put my arm round you on the way home and nobody will mind.'

'You're an actor, if you want a cuddle that bloody much, you can pretend to be drunk...'

'True. But a hint of verisimilitude never hurts.'

'How about we drink up and head back? There's plenty of beer in the flat, or pubs local, if you want.'

'Let's have another first then go home.'

Home.

They got in – got home to the flat, home – just before the pubs started throwing out, and as soon as Gethin closed the street door behind him, Jonathan was there, arms around him, eager for a kiss. His mouthed tasted of old smoke and beer, of affection and promise, and Gethin savoured it.

'Hello,' Jonathan said, finally.

'Hello yourself. Coming up?'

'Definitely.'

Of course, the time went too quickly, just a night, but what a night, neither tiredness or alcohol getting in the way, and a day, but they spent it on each other, squandering half an hour in the bath on Sunday morning once the headaches had lifted a bit, music in the background over dinner, leaving the washing up

'I'll need something to occupy me, when you've gone, and it'll be a reminder that you were here,' Gethin said.

'Lucky you,' Jonathan said, not quite joking. 'You know, if you could bring yourself to risk sharing my single bed, you could come to me one night. Then I'd be able to remember you in my flat – I mean for more than that ten minutes last week...'

'I'm not scared of your single bed; I'm sure I can trust you to protect me from any wayward springs...'

'Great. Only I already know I won't be able to escape midweek, so if you don't mind, if you could come on Wednesday, meet me at the theatre, stay the night...?'

'I can do that. Need to talk Maeve into opening the shop for me, but I think she's enjoying the responsibility of having it to herself Thursday mornings... yes, that's a plan, something to look forward to. Only – you say about keeping in character, will it not make that hard for you?'

'Well, now I have two characters, it hardly matters any more, it's impossible anyway... say you will, Gethin-love? It'd make it so much easier to get through the week...'

'Then of course I will.'

'Question is...' Jonathan began as he was getting ready to leave, winding a multihued scarf around his neck and settling his beret over his random hair. 'Are you going to kiss me goodbye here on the doorstep? Or walk me to the tube for the sake of another ten minutes... and all we can do is shake hands because they're all staring?'

'Could you get a later train? That way you get the kiss and the ten minutes?'

'Twenty, this time of night. Half an hour, if I time it wrong.'

'See, I want the time – and I want the kiss. But I know how far you have to go, now.'

'And you'd have to walk back from the station alone, in the dark...' Jonathan sighed. 'Better say goodbye here, then.'

It was a kiss neither of them wanted to end, but it had to.

'Still, not long until Wednesday,' Gethin said. 'And it's not like we're not busy people, time will go.'

'Yes. And I better had, too. Goodnight, Gethin-love.'

Washing up, and cleaning up after Jonathan wasn't nearly as much fun as dirtying plates and leaving splashes on the bathroom floor had been. But still, yes, each thing a reminder, a promise of next time.

Next time.

Wednesday, a world away.

Still, things to do, meantime.

He took the dress out of the dark and hung it on the back of his door again, made the bed, tidied the dressing table, stroking its smooth surface and remembering the silk of Jonathan's skin, and tried to look forward to tomorrow.