In late 2000, Simon Carrington had left London, left England and spent six months photographing street children in Brazil. On returning, he had bought a house in Wandsworth, miles away from his former friends, drawing a line through the life where he had lived in Kensington, among the rich and successful. He started work in the evenings recording the homeless, dispossessed and the hustlers in the capital. This was not the first time the ex-soldier had reinvented himself. After leaving the army in 1986 he had met Serge, already an established soloist with the London Philharmonic. From an unhappy, listless man, who had grown to hate army life, to falling in lust with the East End boy social climbing from Stepney to be World famous and a member of the jet set. Serge, born Archie Booth, had collected Simon, an officer and Gentleman who had attended Eton, connected to the right sort of people having been born with a silver spoon in his mouth.

He had effectively blackballed himself from his military past by coming out in the era of HIV and Aids. Only two of those he served with were still were friendly. Finally in 2011, Simon was settling down.

"Therapy? I suppose I get where you're coming from. You are quite right with your judgement that I still have issues, but I think you alone will get me over my hang ups." Alex had been confronted with Si arranging couples therapy, mainly to deal with problems Alex still had over certain aspects of intimacy.

"Talking will help. I saw Damian after Serge left. He helped me deal with my feelings of betrayal and inadequacy. The sessions will help us get into a routine of being open and upfront with our problems. I want to do everything in my power to make this work and to move on from mistakes in my past. You know that, I too, have issues to get over."

"So, we, as in plural, are seeing a shrink. I guess your to-do list also includes a health check up and a frigging visit to a dentist as well." Si was pushing him to take care of himself, but Alex was caught in his promise to stop acting like a caged animal. "Tit, fuck and buggery! I need a session with a shrink to psyche myself up for that" Alex grumbled. Moving in and moving back into normal life was unnerving in the extreme, he wanted to run, it was the easy option but the ultimate form of avoidance and denial. Maybe he could start by writing lines 'I will not do a runner'.

...

Neil was impressed with the very mature attitude to getting into a routine of openness before Si and Alex moved in together. It had actually been very relaxed and for the first twenty minutes Si had chatted until Alex had opened up about his problems. The barman had convinced himself at 18 the therapy and drugs were not helping. This time talking of specific aspects to his controlling behaviour was a way of confronting the mess he was still in.

The Aussie asked "So, how was your session? Helpful?"

Alex paused, wishing the bar was rammed rather than talking about his problems. "It was a start. I was sexually assaulted as a teenager and it has left me with serious issues regarding penetration. Si is very understanding and he arranged the sessions with Damian to get me comfortable with talking through my problems. Not running, no denials or avoidance."

"You poor thing." The man moved to give his colleague a brief hug. "It takes time and understanding to get over a trauma like that. Si isn't pushing you to bottom, is he?"

"Err, no. He's happy with me being happy and comfortable and sex is great. I love touch and oral, I think its me that needs to try. Hell, I had problems dating girls. Sex now is just wonderful and Si tells me full anal sex is mind blowing, but he understands that a bad first experience is a mountain to get over. It wasn't rape… but that's just a technicality over semantics … it was bad. I was young, still a virgin, brutalised, humiliated and very frightened. Hell, its taken me nearly ten years to get off the fence and actually date properly." Alex stood still and closed his eyes, slowly letting out a breath he'd been holding.

"Do you need a cup of tea and a sit down? You're upset. I wish I hadn't asked now. I thought it was just you two getting to know each other better."

Alex smiled wryly. "Si got me, right from the start. I never told you but I first met Si when I was 18. He photographed me when I was dipping on Old Compton Street."

"Dipping?" asked Neil on the bit of slang.

"Picking pockets."

"Oh? Were you in prison or juvie?"

"Arrested as a teenager for criminal damage, never charged. I always had a drop. Bit of advice, never work alone. Best if there's a lookout as well, which means the take is split three ways. I always picked my mark, always someone not going to miss a few quid." Alex had lust admitted to his boss of his not so salubrious past. "I stopped all that when I started working for Mr. Patel. It was rough living in squats but a million times better than on the streets. For the past four years I've rented rooms. Being a thief was too close to being the man my uncle wanted me to be."

"No worries over your past. We checked your references. Mr. Murphy asked if you needed work he'd take you back on."

"I liked roofing. I have no fear of heights, which helps."

…..

If you are superstitious, bad things happen in threes. It started with Sorcha Murphy coming into the Dog and Duck on a Saturday in late June to catch up with her hero, Alex. "Where have you been hiding, Mister. My stupid brother lets you walk off site three years ago; then my da says your working here on a weekend. What have you been doing and why did you not say goodbye?"

"You had gone off to uni, Missy. I needed to move on. Might be putting down roots here though."

"Well, so, about uni; I got a first in Business Studies and I'm now working for Padraig, my cousin. Declan is still running Murphy's Scaffolding and Roofing with Da. Expanding despite things being tight for a few years. You know Da will always give you a job, if you need one. You seem a bit overqualified for serving."

"Its a laugh working here. Anyway, being a barman has done me good. I have a steady boyfriend and I'm really happy for the first time in years."

"Boyfriend, Is he tall dark and handsome? Da might have to give his approval, you being his best boy? I think you need to bring him home to shock Declan out of his narrow minded homophobia."

Alex smiled and shook his head. Handing over a rum and coke to the girl he had acted as good samaritan to in 2007. Young Sorcha had been a wild, opinionated and determined party girl, making her father old before his time. Her mother dead and she coped by acting the bad girl. She might have dressed like a slut, drunk and enjoyed herself with her girlfriends, but her behaviour brought her dangerously close to a nasty piece of work . Beware charming men buying you drinks and offering to take you home. Sorcha had enough wits about her to fight back hard, easy for the only girl with three elder brothers, when Alex had heard her screams, she was bruised and bloody, her clothes torn and her attacker had assumed no one was about the industrial estate in Bermondsey at 2AM. Alex had gotten the girl a taxi home, paid her fare and been forced to go with her to face the Murphy clan. It could have gone really badly, but Sorcha had introduced Alex as her have-a-go hero.

It was nice to catch up when the young red-head's phone rang out an loud and brash ringtone.

"Where is he? …. Oh dear god, I'll meet you there Dec. Bye."

Alex watched as Miss Murphy blanched and take in a deep breath, obviously upset.

"Da's had a heart attack. He's on his way to St. George's."

"I'll get a taxi for you, Sis. Don't worry. Its only five minutes away."