Page 123 of Fe
“No.” Two Russians lived on the other side of Ripley.
Sandra winced. “The street’s half empty.”
“Is your alarm linked to the police?”
“Yes.”
“Mine too. We’ll be fine. Go and have a great time.”
“Thanks. Wish Fen a Merry Christmas too. He’s been so good with my mother. Rescued her twice. Once from quite a way away. He’s so kind and considerate.”
“He is.”
Ripley went back to the wreath with a lump in his throat. He hadn’t missed the point of that comment. Alejandro never had time for Annie. He’d made jokes about her to Ripley. Not nasty ones, but…
At least there was no need to worry about the party disturbing his neighbours. There were plenty of trees to muffle the noise for the ones at the back.
Ripley spent fifteen minutes lying next to Fen watching him sleep. As he thought about how young Fen looked, he also started to worry about him not waking up. Totally irrational. Yet he couldn’t help it. Knowing Fen had a disease that shortened his life filled him with a sort of numbing horror. How did Fen cope? Ripley had read article after article about Becker Muscular Dystrophy. No site showed the average life expectancy to be higher than forty to fifty. He knew that meant some might live longer, but then the reverse was also true.
A heart transplant was an option. Ripley had studied the stats. Maybe there’d be developments in treatment before Fen’s heart began to fail. Maybe a transplant would let him live longer than Ripley.
Ripley closed his eyes.I want more than six months. I want Christmas. All I need to do is ask him to stay.
He jumped when he felt Fen’s lips on his.
“My boyfriend’s downstairs,” Fen whispered in his ear. “He has horns on his head, his feet are prickly and his favourite food is roasted Ripley. So we’ll have to be quick.”
“No problem.”
It wasn’t. Ripley wondered if he’d ever feel in control around Fen. Not being in control was alien to him.
After they’d showered, they dressed for the party. Ripley wore his blue chinos and white linen shirt. Fen wore clothes he hadn’t seen before. Dark denims and a tight T-shirt sayingThat’s a horrible idea. What time?Ripley snorted.
“Is it okay?” Fen asked.
“Perfect.”
When they reached the main room, Fen stumbled to a halt and gave a quiet gasp. “You moved the couch!”
Ripley stepped behind him and wrapped his arms around Fen’s waist. “Notice anything else?”
“Er…”
Ripley turned Fen so he faced the tree.
“It looks almost amazing.”
“Almost?”
Fen slipped free of Ripley’s hold, walked over to it, moved one silver bauble an inch, then moved it back. “No. I was wrong. It’s totally amazing. Oh, you put lights outside too! Mum and I always overdo the lights. All over the balcony and in every room. She makes the tree a different colour every year. She threatened pink this year but… Well, I’ll soon see what she’s done. She always makes Christmas special.”
Ah shit. I could still ask him to stay. But…
Fen turned on the oven and started to take things out of the fridge. He popped something into his mouth andhmmedas he chewed “I don’t like to blow my own trumpet but these are way better than my mother’s. Have one.”
It was some sort of cheese thing and it melted in Ripley’s mouth.
“Maybe I’ll volunteer to make them,” Fen said. “And the bread sauce. She never gets that quite right.”
