Page 50 of The Last Kiss

“The Allens? No. I doubt they’ll notice. Rich as Croesus. Ah-hah!” He retrieved a dusty bottle and examined the label. “This should do nicely.”

Harry had never tasted wine before he’d been in France, and there he’d only drunk the plonk they served in the local dives open to soldiers. If he was honest, he was more of a beer man. But he knew Ash liked his wine, so what the hell? He was living in a fantasy world tonight, he might as well go all in. “This is warmed through,” he said, lifting the pot off the heat. “Beef stew,” he added. Meat was still rationed, so that was generous of whoever had provided the meal.

While Ash went in search of a corkscrew and glasses, Harry found plates and cutlery and set places on the kitchen table. It felt warm and domestic, a little glimpse into Ash’s imagined future that was as sweet as it was impossible. What a dream, though, to live together like this. Although he supposed some men managed something like it, those ‘confirmed bachelors’ who shared rooms and wore velvet dressing gowns and smoked cigarettes in long holders. Everyone knew what they were up to, but blind eyes were turned. They were all respectable middle-class blokes, though, friends from Oxford and the like. Theatre types. Not the son of a baronet and a nagman from Bethnal Green. Nowthatwould never be acceptable to anyone. Truth was, it would be almost as scandalous for a man like Ash to marry Kitty as it would be to set up house with her brother. There was more than one way the world divided them, even if Ash didn’t always seem to notice.

Harry set the pot on the table between them and Ash brought wine and a couple of glasses with proper stems and all. He smiled as he set them down. “We could be at Toc H.”

“Only it’s quieter.” Toc H had always been rowdy as hell, but comfortable too. One of his favourite places in Flanders. Ash poured the wine and lifted his glass in salute. “Absent friends,” he said, and Harry clinked their glasses together.

The stew was plain English grub: beef, carrots, parsnips. Harry tucked in with gusto, and even Ash ate a good portion. They didn’t speak much, but their gaze held across the table, full of warm, loving looks. Harry felt utterly in love and allowed himself to bask in the sensation.

But he could tell Ash was distracted, lost in his thoughts and with Ash that was never a good idea. So, when he’d eaten his fill and topped up their glasses, Harry leaned back in his chair and said, “Well then, you haven’t told me how your meeting went today.”

Ash looked up through those dark lashes of his and gave a familiar nervy smile. “No,” he agreed, and reached for his glass.

“I’d say it looks like things didn’t go to plan, only I don’t know what the plan was in the first place.”

“Neither did I. I hadn’t really thought it through until I got there and realised…” He took a sip of his wine. “You should have seen it, Harry. Dusty old place, hardly changed since before the war.” He gave half a shrug. “A few women employed, that’s the only difference. Going back felt like…like putting on a dead man’s suit. I suppose I’m just not the man I was before the war.”

“It’s changed us all,” Harry agreed, but maybe men like Ash, who’d never known a day’s hardship, were shaken up more by seeing the suffering of their men — and sharing it too.

“You’ve changed me.” Ash looked down at his plate, pushing a piece of carrot around with his fork. “What I feel for you has changed me. How can I live that life now? Wife, children, good job at the bank? Christ alive, I think I should go quite mad trying to cram myself into it.”

Carefully, Harry lowered his glass to the table. “Did you turn the position down, then?”

Ash nodded. “Couldn’t do anything else.”

“You’ll have to dosomethingelse. Unless… I mean, youdohave to earn money, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Ash’s nervy smile was back. “Dodge will inherit Highcliffe House and I’ll have to shift for myself. Besides, Iwantan occupation. Only not in that bloody office.” A pause, then, “I’d like to do what we talked about before.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “What we talked about…?”

“Breeding horses.” There was a feverish light in his eyes when he spoke. “Why not? You and I could go into business together.”

“With what money?” It was nonsense and Harry didn’t like talking about something so impossible. “I’ve barely tuppence to my name, and unless you’ve a fortune stashed under your mattress…”

“I’ll have a small inheritance, when the time comes. Perhaps I could ask Father for it early…” His voice trailed off, face creasing into a frown.

Yes, Harry thought, that’s about as likely as snow in June. “Maybe there’s another profession you could try? A man like you with an education — must be lots of things you could do. School teaching?”

Ash made a face. “I want to be with you, Harry. That’s the point. I want us to be together. Like this.”

“Like this?” He laughed, although he wasn’t the slightest bit amused. “Ash… You can’t really think we can set up house together.”

“Why not?”

“You know why not.”

Ash leaned forward, reached for Harry’s hand. “But if we had stables, out in the country, nobody would know how we lived. We could live as we chose, just you and I, and — ”

“You’re dreaming,” Harry said harshly. It hurt to think about this, he didn’t know why Ash was torturing them both with the fantasy.

But Ash only gripped his hand tighter. “It’s not impossible. We…we need to get away from everything, don’t you see? From all these people telling us how to live. Then we could have this, Harry. We could havethisevery single day. Imagine it! We could have a stable and a — ”

“No, we couldn’t!” Harry snatched his hand away and stood up, taking his plate to the sink. “There’s no point talking about this.”

“Don’t you want — ?”

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