Page 127 of Men in Shorts

As Andrew enteredthe skylit west court of the Kelvingrove Museum, he spied Evan standing in front of a life-size stuffed elephant, taking its picture with his phone. Before approaching the tall blond midfielder from behind, Andrew scanned the room for anyone who might be watching.

He saw no obvious observers, which meant he could walk out now and cancel this…whatever it was. A friendly chat? A therapy session? It felt more dire, like he’d sent a mayday call and Evan was sailing to the rescue.

Andrew quieted his steps as he drew near. “Meeting in an art gallery. How delightfully 007.”

Evan didn’t startle or even glance at him, just kept his focus on the elephant through his phone camera. “The art’s upstairs. This is the Life Gallery.”

“Ironically named, as everything here is dead.” Andrew scanned the menagerie of taxidermied animals, which weren’t grouped by habitat or even continent. A kangaroo squatted beside a sea turtle, which appeared to gaze up at the adjacent giraffe. The entire display was topped, inexplicably, by a World War II Spitfire aircraft hanging from the high curved ceiling. The Kelvingrove had always amused Andrew, but today he found its cheeky surreality unsettling, as it reinforced his sense of the earth becoming a foreign place.

“Perfect.” Evan showed Andrew the photo on his screen. “See? Sir Roger’s taking flight.”

In the shot, the Asian elephant was positioned before the Spitfire to make it look as though the creature had aeroplane wings. “Nice.”

“You know how he died?” Evan tucked his phone inside his long black coat and gestured to the elephant. “He was living at the Glasgow zoo when he went into musth—basically the male version of heat, though it’s more territorial than sexual. A bull elephant will go mad with testosterone and kill anything he sees, including his keepers.” He sighed. “So they shot poor Sir Roger whilst he was eating breakfast.”

“How awful.” Andrew frowned at the plaque in front of them, which bore a grainy, circa 1900 photo of the living Sir Roger. “Zoos are an abomination. It’s unnatural to keep wild animals in captivity.” Oddly, he found his nerves soothed by this bizarre small talk. He moved toward the moose at the center of the room. “This one’s my favorite. The way his mouth curves, it’s almost a Mona Lisa smile, don’t you think? Like he’s privy to the secret of happiness.”

Evan approached him while staying far outside his personal space. “I’m glad you reached out to me, Lord Andrew.”

“Call me Drew, remember?” He thought about shaking Evan’s hand, but his own were cold and trembling, so he kept them in his coat pockets. “Forgive my suspicion, but why are you so keen to help me? If you’re hoping to get on Colin’s right side, there’s no need. He’s long since forgiven you for abandoning the Warriors last year.”

“That’s not it.” Evan gazed up at the Spitfire’s front propeller. “It’s because that morning at Dunleven Castle, when you woke from the nightmare, I recognized the look in your eyes. I’ve seen that look in my own mirror.”

Andrew took a step closer to him. “What happened to you?”

“Long story. I’ll tell you what I can, which isn’t much.” He adjusted his tie, though it was already straight. “I know what it’s like to have pain you don’t feel entitled to.”

Andrew gave a small shudder, feeling as if Evan had surveyed his naked brain. But he was determined to see the meeting through. “This is your lunch hour, right? Shall we eat? My treat.”

“Thanks,” Evan said. “It’s nearly time for the organ recital.”

They headed out into the magnificent Centre Hall and made their way to the café in the corner. Andrew bought them coffees and sandwiches while Evan secured the last empty seats, not far from the reception desk.

As he reached their table, Andrew saw a woman in a long red dress enter the balcony above and sit before the enormous nineteenth-century pipe organ. The hall fell to a respectful hush.

A few moments later a majestic yet ominous prelude began, one Andrew recognized as a piece by Franz Liszt. He feigned interest in his food, stealing glances at Evan while they waited for the music to quiet enough for conversation.

John had mentioned that like Fergus, Evan was an architect. It was a lucrative profession, a fact reflected by Fergus’s well-tailored wardrobe. Yet Evan’s blue Oxford shirt and maroon tie were decidedly middle of the road—off-the-peg Marks and Spencer at best. His Nordic good looks and muscular physique, so obvious in a football kit, were tragically muted by the ordinary clothes.

At last the organ prelude entered a softer section.

“I expected you to be in disguise,” Evan said. “You’re not worried about paparazzi?”

Andrew had considered adopting an alternative persona, but had lacked the energy to adjust his hair and clothes. “If anyone asks, we’re discussing Colin’s supplement regimen. And if he should find out we spoke, I’ll tell him the truth.”

“Good. So what changed your mind about us meeting up? Why was I the one you phoned after you quit university?”

Andrew couldn’t be totally honest here. He’d turned to Evan because he was nobody. He wasn’t a mate or family member who’d get all emotional about Andrew’s struggles. He had no power to ruin Andrew’s life or even make him feel bad.

Evan didn’t matter. Which meant he might be the only one who could make things better, or at least not worse.

“You told me to tell Colin how I felt. I followed your advice, but it’s not helped, not really.” Andrew softened his accusatory tone; he hadn’t come here to blame Evan. “I thought filling in that victim statement would fix me, and then I thought seeing Jeremy sent to prison would fix me. But that was a week ago, and I just keep feeling worse. Then yesterday I found myself quitting uni.” He remembered the vertiginousWhat have I done?!sensation as he’d left GU’s registry office. “I didn’t know where else to turn.”

Evan nodded. “If it helps, remember that Colin needed a whole team of healers—including you—to grow strong again.” His rippling Orkney accent with its heavily rolledRs was stronger in person than on the phone. “Now it’s you who needs help, and Colin can’t be your entire team. Don’t put that on him.”

“Are you in my team?”

“If you want me to be, yes.” Evan’s gaze was cool, but in a soothing way, like an ice pack on a sore knee.

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