Gethin was walking on air all the way down to the station. He'd got his kite back. Granted, it had the longest string in the world, stretching all the way to Saturday, but...

'Give him a nudge for me, will you, Maeve?' Peter said loudly, and Maeve giggled, and squeezed Gethin's arm.

'Sorry, what?'

'I was asking if you wanted to stop off for a drink on the way home? Both of you, of course?'

'It's very kind,' Gethin began. 'Maeve? I can open up the shop tomorrow, if you like, save you an early start, I'll take the afternoon instead of the morning off?'

'Oh, okay. That'd be lovely. Just a quick one, then.'

'I know a couple of nice pubs where we change trains,' Gethin said.

'Ooh, get you, man about town!'

'Are you two coming to the book party on Friday night?' Maeve asked as they were sat with drinks. 'We've got a nice selection of titles now, and voting forms and everything.'

'Have we?' Gethin asked.

'Well, we will have by tomorrow afternoon... first round of voting begins at eight, so get along before then if you want a browse.'

Gordon and Peter stayed on in the pub and Gethin saw Maeve to her train before making his own way home, happiness mingling with a sweet, soft sorrow... lovely to see Jonathan, to talk to him, to know he wanted to try...

Because that was it, he had been trying, hadn't he? Walking away rather than rowing, backing off instead of facing off... and, presumably, he'd done the rehearsing, he knew the stuff now, it wouldn't be so much pressure, would it?

And he'd liked the brooch, the dress fitted, he knew Gethin had been thinking of him, hopefully that it meant he was okay with the dresses...

Didn't know how okay though, did he?

Gethin smiled to himself as he got in, locked up, went upstairs. So the morning would go quickly, opening up, sorting out, waiting for Maeve, and the afternoon... he'd take himself off somewhere, book shops, perhaps, or – better idea – tidy up the flat, proper cleaning, change the bed, polish the dressing table...

In the finish, he was wrong and he was right. Thursday morning, even with him opening up, dragged, the afternoon was wet and cold for April, so going out was less appealing, but cleaning didn't really do it for him either... still, it was a day nearer to Saturday, and the phone call he was now desperately waiting for.

Friday to get through first, of course. So much to do ahead of the book party, the list of who donated which book to be updated and retyped, anonymous voting forms to prepare, the back room to clear, and – now Jonathan wasn't coming to compere the evening – he had to decide what he'd say, perhaps jot down a few notes, bit of a speech, Duw, no... maybe he could get Maeve to do that bit?

He was expecting probably around twenty or thirty people – one for each book donated, and a friend, he thought, give or take. The books in question were on a shelf of their own in the back room, lined up in proper order, alphabetical by author, just as in the rest of the shop.

Refreshments to get in, too. It was going to cost a fortune, this contest, and not even as if he could charge entry for it... couple of boxes of wine, never the best quality, but cheap that way, and if it wasn't good, they wouldn't be drinking it so fast, would they? Same with the beer, cheapest he could find, gut-rot cider, plastic glasses, a few soft drinks, not that he expected anyone would want lemonade...

He went to buy the refreshments in his lunch break, two trips, asked Maeve, very nicely, if she could get back early to help out, and was relieved to lock up at five and take twenty minutes to eat and grab a coffee before hitting the ground running with the rest of the preparations.

Once everything was as ready as it could be, and greatly daring, he applied a lick of eyeliner and a brush of mascara before changing his jeans and shirt ready for the evening. Maeve might notice, but she'd been around the shop long enough to see more extreme cosmetics than his.

She arrived at just before seven, stared at him and shook her head.

'Wish I could get mine on that steady,' she said. 'I always go wobbly. And, my God, your eyelashes are just amazing...'

And that was it; no shrieks and giggles, no disapproval, nothing except mild envy.

'I brace my elbow on the dressing table and steady my hand that way,' he said.

'Great, thanks, I'll remember that. So what's first, then?'

'Er... can you check all the cards sound right for each book? And do you think we should read out the actual contents after the titles, so they get the idea?'

'Maybe. If they're sharp enough... Gethin, I don't see this one on the list anywhere...?'

'Which?'

Maeve held up a copy of a children's book at him.

'That one's not in the competition; it was going to be a special presentation to Jonathan for compering us. I'll have to set it aside for later.'

'Birthday present, perhaps. You won't have to wait long, he's got to be a Leo, hair and eyes like that.'

'Well. Better put it away so it doesn't get mixed up with the entries. Right, I think we're ready. Not sure when we'll get any guests, though...'

Or even if, he thought. Of course, if he'd said, 'free drinks'...

He needn't have worried. Twenty past seven, a rattle at the door and the first guests arrived. Maeve appointed herself in charge of the bar the better to ration the drinks, and Gethin was left to mingle and greet the arrivals.

Peter and Gordon were amongst the earliest to arrive.

'Well, we've come in support of "Joyful Lays", since Gordon found it. Oh, and look, "Flashes From the Welsh Pulpit", that sounds like quite a church outing, doesn't it?'

'Nice to see you, get a drink, there are voting forms on the table...'

Familiar faces from the meetings, group secretaries and a few others he knew by name; a pretty lad called Jeff, very well spoken but no side to him, laughing and joking with Mark and Mike, the politicals, a couple of girls (one of whom made a bee-line for Maeve, or possibly the Twiglets), the back room filling up with more and more people, looking at the books, not many interested in the real contents, but happy just to giggle at the titles.

Just on eight o'clock and Maeve caught Gethin's eye, and he got up to stumble through a speech.

'Okay, everyone, just want to say thanks for coming tonight... and especially thanks to those of you who brought books in; we will return them after the display ends. We're just about ready to hand out the voting slips for the first round now, but before that happens I just want to talk you through the titles in case there's any you missed...'

He broke off as there the shop door opened and the bell chimed. Maeve gave a little gasp and put her hands to her mouth and Gethin turned at the sound of an elegant, languid voice.

'I do hope you haven't started without me, Gethin-love... I would have been sooner but these blasted heels...'

Jonathan!

Except... not Jonathan. Exuberant orange wig, fake fur coat with a huge sparkly bow brooch, charcoal geometric dress...

Gethin swallowed, grinned, and went to greet the newcomer.

'Ladies and gentlemen, please allow me to introduce this evening's compere, a dear friend of my Aunty, all the way from somewhere near Liverpool, the amazing Phyllis...'

He helped Jonathan out of his coat while the gathered people cheered and clapped, Maeve enthusiastic and coming forward with script and hefty glass of wine.

'Goodness! You look familiar!' she said with a laugh. 'Are you Jonathan Blake's sister, by any chance?'

'If I am, dear, my mother's in for a shock...' Jonathan took a swig of wine, gave Gethin a quick one-armed hug and took the floor.

'Hello, everyone, and thank you for coming to the first ever "Gay's the Word" Scandalous Book Contest, where it is always much more fun to judge the book by its cover but could lead to great disappointment... Anyway, enough of that, let's have a look at what we've got, shall we..?' Jonathan glanced at Gethin's attempt at a speech, crossed to the book shelves and took down the first one he liked the look of. 'Oh, I say...! "In and Out of Florence", does that ring any bells? By the way,' he went on in an aside, 'that's one name I never use for the act...'

He carried on through the list, with an aside here and there... 'Oh, yummy! Anyone fancy a spread from the "New Radiation Cookbook"? You'll be glowing with health... or something...' and "Three Weeks in Wet Sheets", well, that takes me back... Now, it's time to take a few minutes to browse the titles and then cast your votes! Your Top Five, thank you, and then our lovely adjudicator will tally them all up... now, is it Maeve or Gethin adjudicating...?'

Having passed out the voting forms, Gethin managed to work around the room so that eventually he was standing next to Jonathan.

'Thank you for coming. Hope you haven't blown your career coming here tonight?'

'Oh, my understudy was only too happy... Pip wants Maeve's phone number, do you think she'll mind?'

'No, I'm sure she won't. And don't change the subject, are you sure it's okay?'

'We're opening in Islington two weeks on Monday; I've signed the contract. A week off and a week rehearsing... it's all done, they can't touch me for it... besides, I wanted to be here, Gethin-love.'

'Thank you. So pleased to see you.'

'Even though I'm in a dress?'

'Of course even though you're in a dress. Besides, it's one I chose for you. Gorgeous, you are.'

'I almost called you last night.'

'I know. I knew it wasn't you when the phone didn't ring.'

Jonathan gave a laugh and slid his arm around Gethin's back.

'And look at you with the dramatic eyes... missed you, Geth.'

'And you, of course.' An idea occurring, the worst idea ever, but Gethin had to, somehow... 'Listen, after it winds up tonight... could you stay for a bit?'

'Now, that sounds like quite an offer!'

Jonathan winked, and Gethin grinned himself out of his fear and but for Maeve scraping back her chair from where she'd been taking in the voting papers and tallying them up, he might have forgotten himself and kissed his boyfriend, there and then, in front of the crowd.

'Sorry to butt in,' Maeve said, coming over. 'How are you wanting to do this, Gethin? Lots of the books only have one or two votes, but there's already a clear winner...'

'Well, you don't want it to be over too soon, do you Gethin-love?' Jonathan said with another wink, causing Maeve to cover her mouth with her hand to stifle a laugh. 'Let me see... oh, yes, I do like the sound of that one... well, no not literally, but it does conjure up an image...'

'Give them five minutes with their drinks, line up the top five and tell them to vote for their top three in order. Otherwise we'll be scribbling out half the titles on the voting forms and it'll just look messy...'

'Don't worry; I'll fill in for you, as it were, while you get that organised. And I'll have a refill, when I'm done...'

He drained his glass and clapped his hands for attention, taking the floor as if he owned it and launching into a version of his Phyllis routine, talking about a village visited on holiday...

'Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch they call it, Heaven only knows who came up with that one, it sounds like the worst game of Scrabble ever...'

'Where was that, again?' Gethin asked, looking up from reordering the books to be rewarded by a smile as Jonathan repeated the name again, perfectly, getting a laugh and a smattering of applause.

'He's good,' Maeve said. 'He should do this properly. You know, like an act. On stage.'

'Well, I'll let you tell him, if you like.'

'...So, I think now we're ready for the exciting second round of voting... Oh, dear! "The New Radiation Cookbook" is out... funny, I thought that one would light up your faces... By the way, I am delighted to announce that the first prize, going to the supplier of the chosen title, will be two tickets to the opening night of the forthcoming production of Hey, Fly Boy, opening in Islington in just over two weeks from now... second prize is four tickets, two for the opening night... and two for the second night... Over to our lovely hosts for further instructions...'

Gethin went to get Jonathan's refill of wine, pouring himself a glass at the same time, leaving Maeve to explain the voting and pass out more paper.

'It's still going to be over early at this rate,' Jonathan said.

'It'll probably suit most of them; a couple of free drinks and then on to a pub or club somewhere; look at young Jeff over there, you don't think he got dressed up like that just to vote for a book called "Shag the Caribou", do you?'

'No... I think he probably got dressed up like that to appeal to Ken at the back... I take your point, though. As long as you don't mind it finishing early?'

'No, hadn't really thought how long it would go on. Anyway, with you here, it could finish now for all I care.'

'Oh, you do say the sweetest things...!'

Waiting until everyone seemed to have finished with their pens and bits of paper, Gethin cleared his throat.

'Okay, everyone, any more votes...? Last few minutes to make your choices, then come and get yourselves a top-up while your adjudicators total up the votes and reveal the winners... And, as well as Jonathan Blake's very generous donation of tickets, there will also be book tokens for use in the shop for the donors of the top three...'

Maeve collected in the papers and Gethin was kept busy serving drinks while he should really have been counting votes.

'Geth, can Mark have a word with everyone?' Mike from the political group asked.

'Yes, suppose so. You want a drink?'

'Cheers, I'll have a lager, yeah.'

So while Gethin and Maeve sorted out the winners, Mark spoke out on his latest political ideals, expounding with passion on the subject – what it was Gethin wasn't quite sure, but it seemed important – filling in the time nicely until they were ready to hand Jonathan the list of winners and who had brought them in.

'Well, ladies and gentlemen, honoured guests and book donors, here are your top three transformative titles...' Jonathan took a breath. 'In third place, we have the oft-requested and always disappointing "Scouting for Boys"... yes, be careful, it really isn't a manual... and that one was brought in by... by the lovely Steph, well now, I'm surprised at you...!' With a wink. 'Second, not that I'd fancy it myself, "Three Weeks in Wet Sheets" and that was brought in by Tony Parkinson... nice one, Tony... but our winner by an easy mile is "Drummer Dick's Discharge..." All right, who brought that to the party...?'

From the back of the room, pretty lad Jeff raised his hand and grinned.

'Oh, I'd keep that quiet if I were you... Congratulations, and well done!'

Applause, Gethin handing out book vouchers, Jeff explaining excitedly that the book had been in the family for generations, a Sunday School prize originally, yes, he would have to have it back after, and when could he come and see the play, he'd heard all sorts of stories...?

Enough alcohol left for another round of drinks. Gethin got behind the counter and retrieved the book Maeve had found earlier and thought part of the competition.

'Everybody, can I have your attention?' he called out. 'Before you all clear off and find another party to go to, I just want to take a moment to thank Jonathan Blake, not only for donating to the prize fund but for giving up his valuable time to come here tonight and perform, and compere for us as the amazing Phyllis...' A round of applause, and when it died down he went on. 'Jonathan. As a mark of gratitude, I'd like you to accept this on behalf of "Gay's the Word" and I hope you enjoy it.'

He handed over the book, hastily wrapped in a paper bag to disguise it, and watched as Jonathan uncovered it and read the title, holding it high with a laugh.

'Well, fuck me! "Fairies on the Doorstep"! I've been after a copy of this for ages! Thank you, Gethin Roberts; you remembered!'

'Jonathan Blake – Phyllis – you're welcome.'

Half nine, all the guests gone, Maeve put a few random empty plastic cups on the table and reached for her jacket.

'I feel bad leaving you with all this clearing up to do, Gethin, but if I don't get my train...'

'I'll stay,' Jonathan said. 'Give him a bit of a hand.'

'That's nice of you. I'll be in tomorrow, half eleven okay?'

'That's great, Maeve. And thanks for helping out tonight.'

'Goodnight, then.'

The shop door closing, the bell jangling, Gethin locking up and finding Jonathan right behind him.

'Alone at last, Gethin-love.'

'It's been too long, Jonathan-cariad. Um... I'm... just going to leave the clearing up for the morning, I think. Something I need to do... must show you... tonight...'

'That sounds fun! Except that really, it sounds a little ominous, too...'

'Don't worry about it. I just need ten minutes or so, would you mind waiting down here?'

'No. Not if I can kiss you first...? I can still kiss you?'

'Of course. We only agreed, you needed space, while the play was on. Nothing about not kissing each other.'

It was sweet and tender and a little bit sad, a little bit scary, because although he hoped he was doing the right thing, at the same time Gethin was worried it would be too much, he'd frighten Jonathan off... but it was going to have to be done, and better now, really, while he was feeling brave enough, open enough...

'Bring the wine, when you come. You might want it.'

Gethin kissed Jonathan's cheek, inhaling the dry, pink smell of his face powder, and climbed the steps to his flat as if they were the north face of the Eiger.