Page 65 of Fe
“I didn’t know he had any friends.”
Really?“Well, I’m one of them.”
“Do you know Alejandro?”
“No.” Fen walked up the steps to her and held out his hand. “I’m Fen.”
“What a lovely name. Not as exotic as Alejandro’s, but still nice. I’m Annie.”
“That’s a lovely name too.”
“Mum! What are you doing?”
A younger woman had come up behind the older one and was staring at Fen.
“Fen is staying with Ripley. He hasn’t seen Alejandro. Where’s he gone?”
“Mum!”
Fen held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
The woman shook his hand. “Sandra.”
“I’ll go and light the fire. It’s chilly.” Annie went back into the house.
“Mum! Wait!” Sandra pulled her fingers through her hair. “We don’t have a fire to light. Her memory… Well, I think you can tell.” She gave a short laugh. “She’s more trouble than my three children. If you happen to see her on the street on her own, please guide her back home.”
Fen nodded.
By the time he was putting the shopping away, including mint sauce, he was kicking himself for not having asked about Alejandro, even as he told himself that if Ripley had wanted him to know, he’d have told him.
Fen didn’t dare touch the coffee machine so he made himself a cup of tea, helped himself to a biscuit and sat on the couch in front of the TV. After a few minutes trying to use one remote, then the other, he gave up and went to look for a book from Ripley’s huge collection.
And found Alejandro. At least he suspected that was who it was. There was a photo tucked away on one of the shelves, Ripley standing with a dark-haired, good-looking guy. He had his arm over Ripley’s shoulder. There was a sparkling blue sea behind them, and palm trees, and even though there were palm trees in the UK, Fen was pretty sure there were none as tall as these. Ripley was smiling. So was the man with him, but while Ripley was smiling at the camera, the guy’s attention was solely on Ripley.
So where was Alejandro now?
Not around anymore, clearly.
How long had he been gone?
Stop thinking about him!
Fen picked out a Scandi thriller he hadn’t read and went back to the main living area. Before he opened the book, he contacted his landlord to tell him he’d moved out and left the keys next to the cooker. And yes, he knew he’d still have to pay the rent for another month. Then he sent his readings to the energy provider and cancelled his account. The council tax situation was trickier, because he had no address to give them when they asked where he was moving to. So he gave them his mum’s address, even though he knew she wouldn’t be there much longer, then stopped the direct debits from his bank account.
At least he’d had the foresight to tick the box to pick up the passport he’d applied for, though unfortunately the post office was one near where he used to work. He’d need to amend his address on his medical records too but only when he was sure where he’d be living.
His life was changing whether he wanted it to or not. By how much… Well, he had a couple of days to decide. Going through reasons why and why not had got him nowhere. He might as well let things run and see what happened. But he liked Ripley. Probably more than he should.
Ripley walked into the house on Thursday at just gone six. He could hear music playing and smell something cooking. It had crossed his mind, more than once, that he might get back to find Fen gone. They’d not texted each other last night. Ripley had wanted to, but he didn’t want to push too hard. He put his roller-briefcase on the floor, hung up his coat, and went to the kitchen.
Fen had his back towards him. He was barefoot, wearing loose grey sleep pants and a tight, short-sleeved black T-shirt, and he was dancing. Well, not dancing exactly, but holding onto the edge of the island unit and moving slowly to the music. Ballet. It reminded him of another time when he’d watched a young man dance. Fen was so graceful, his back arched, his arms held in an elegant pose, his hands turned in that particular way ballet dancers had. When he lifted one leg straight out, rested it on the granite and tipped his head forward to touch it, Ripley held his breath in case he fell, but he didn’t.
And he has tattoos.Words on his arm and stars on his foot.Ripley’s dick went hard. Fortunately, his suit jacket hid how turned on he was. He coughed, Fen dropped his leg and almost fell before he steadied himself.
“Sorry,” Ripley said.
Fen turned and beamed at him. “I’d recognise that cough anywhere. I was just exercising.”
