Page 45 of Blow Down (The Plumber's Mate)
“Hey, some of us are both,” I told her, waggling my ring finger at her with a grin, because it was still a bit of a novelty to me and all.
“Congratulations,” she said, and dialled the flirting down to zero as she mixed Gary’s martini.
Right on time, the man himself turned up. He was on his own—presumably Julian had had a better offer. Date with the poodle next door, maybe? Course, that was never gonna work out. Well, not unless they stood her on a box.
“Is that for me? You’re a lifesaver. I’m parched.” Gary took a sip. “Mm. That’s better. Now, are we eating? Silly question. Of course we’re eating.”
We ordered food (Gary braved the steak and ale pie) and took our drinks over to a table by the window. I shifted a potted plant over a bit so it wouldn’t tickle my neck when I sat down.
“Stop fondling the ferns,” Gary said distractedly, making himself comfortable with a faded velvet cushion. “Now go on, what’s the latest crisis? Much as I’d like to think you simply invited me here for the pleasure of my company.”
“Do you and Darren have common interests?” I asked, ignoring the guilt trip with the ease of long practice.
Gary gave me a smug look. “We are of one mind.”
“Yeah, right. No, I mean, you do the bell ringing, yeah, and he does the Spanish classes and the Morris dancing—is there stuff you do together?”
The look turned pitying. “Well, Tommy dearest, when a man and another man love each other very much—”
“Oi, I’m not talking about you and him having sex!”
“Bloody glad to hear it and all,” one of the older regulars muttered on his way past to the gents’.
Gary literally jiggled with stifled laughter. I glared at him and tried to pretend I hadn’t gone red.
Seriously, they couldn’t reopen the Dyke soon enough for my liking.
“I mean, like, hobbies,” I explained, keeping my voice a bit lower this time, although God knows why. That horse hadn’t just bolted, it was in the next county by now, sidling up to strangers in pubs and trying to sell them a set of used saddlery, one not very careful lady owner, sale due to change of circumstances.
“Does watching Bake Off count?”
I felt a twinge of envy. Phil was happy enough to watch ’em with me, but he just didn’t get TV cookery programs. “No. Not the telly. Something you and him go out of the house to do on a regular basis.”
Gary put on an obviously fake frown of confusion. “I thought we weren’t talking about sex?”
“Eff off. Look, do you, or don’t you?”
He shrugged so expansively his martini sloshed almost to the brim of his glass. “Not really, I suppose. But then, it’s hardly healthy for a couple to live in each other’s pockets.”
That was rich, coming from him. The only reason people didn’t think him and Darren were joined at the hip was that Darren’s hips only came up to Gary’s knees. “You don’t reckon it’s necessary, then? I mean, you know, there’s all that bollocks about ‘the couple that plays together stays together.’”
“And once again, I’d have to say I thought we weren’t talking about—”
“Yeah, yeah. Right. No common hobbies apart from X-rated ones. Got it. Oh, cheers, love.” The barmaid had come over with our meals.
“Sauce?” she asked, with a raised eyebrow.
Gary beamed at her. “Oh no, thank you, darling. I’m saucy enough already, aren’t I, Tommy?”
Me and the barmaid exchanged What can you do? looks. “Bit of mayo for me, please,” I asked, and started unwrapping my cutlery from the neat little napkin bundle it’d arrived in.
Gary took a thoughtful sip of his martini before doing the same. “What’s brought this on? Has your young man been trying to drag you along on his mammoth-hunting expeditions?”
“Nah, it was just something he said about, well . . .” I stopped, not sure if I should say anything. No, better not. I took a bite of crusty bread and cheese.
“The ex?”
Bugger. I struggled to finish my mouthful and had to wash it down with a gulp of Coke. “Yeah, all right, but if you tell anyone . . . And that includes Darren, by the way.”
