Stuff (The Bristol Collection) (38 page)

“Oh, of course.” Perry steered Mas around until he was facing the mysterious covered thing. “I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it.” Although right now, with Perry’s arms wrapped around him from behind and Perry’s head resting against his, Mas couldn’t give a rat’s arse what his surprise was. Nothing could be better than this, surely.

“Ta-daa!” Lewis announced as the two of them pulled the canvas up and over. The partygoers began to applaud in a terribly polite, middle-class kind of way, and conversations started up all over the room.

“Oh! It’s one of your skeletons,” Mas said, taken aback. It was another skeleton angel like old Albert up on the roof, but this time it was standing proudly. And this time the whole thing glittered like some kind of multicoloured disco ball.

What on earth had possessed Perry to make him a freaky angel skeleton? But then Mas started to notice little details, like the tattered clothes giving shape to the body in places. “I can’t believe it. Is that seriously what I think it is?”

“What do you think it is?”

Mas contemplated the complex assembly of metal, bone and fabric. “This might sound totally vain, but is that me?”

He was rewarded by a gorgeous smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d be able to see it. How did you know?”

“Those are my braces. And you’ve got my hair just right. You know, if my hair was made out of wire.” It probably wouldn’t be a compliment for everyone, being told they looked like a weird cyber-Victorian skeleton with wings, but Mas had learnt just how much Perry loved this stuff, and he could see the painstaking workmanship that had gone into it. He walked around the side and inspected the rear view. Parts of the skeleton had been padded out with old fabric, “Hey, you even gave me a nice bum. I didn’t realise skeleton angels had arses.” He reached out to touch the glittering domes. “Oh, it’s hard.”

“I dipped the fabric in plaster of Paris, then painted it when it was dry.”

“So it’s more like a plaster cast of my bum.”

“It is one of my favourite parts of you.”

“Yeah, mine too. Hey, and now I’ll be able to look at it for a change. Do you mind if we keep it down here?”

“Oh. You don’t like it.” Perry drooped like a cut flower when the water had all dried out.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I love it. Seriously, I mean, it’s kind of freaky and all, but who else out there has a skeleton angel of themselves? It’s the best present anyone’s ever given me.” He said it with so much force he worried Perry would think he was lying, but he actually wasn’t. Weird as it was, it was something Perry had made for him, and so just looking at it made him grin so widely his face ached.

“So you forgive me for being a fool?” Perry said.

“Nothing to forgive.” Mas thought about it for a moment. “Well, okay, maybe a little bit to forgive, but lucky for you, you’re still signed up to my relationship-training course, so I’m giving you a get-out-of-jail-free card on this one. Just don’t do it again, or you’ll have to do more than spend a week making a statue of me for penance. I’m going to demand something utterly degrading, like you parading down Stokes Croft wearing a shell suit and carrying one of them advertising boards saying you’re totally, utterly sorry and you’re never going to upset your boyfriend again. But I’m a generous man, so I won’t make you do it in those neon trainers you hate. You can wear a nice pair of heels. Your choice.”

“Most generous of you,” Perry said, and Mas didn’t even care about the dry chuckle. Perry was his, and that was what counted.

They kissed, camera flashes went off, and Mas’s heart bounced around his rib cage like a squash ball.

Epilogue

The wedding of Letty Cavendish-Fiennes and Hector Glenlivet might have been in the middle of July, but the British weather was being its usual uncooperative self and the heavens had opened in a storm of almost tropical proportions. Perry leaned back against one of the columns in the grand entry hall of Farnsleigh House. At least the house was big enough for all the guests to shelter inside, and the marquee seemed to be one-hundred percent watertight. The only ones suffering were the few nicotine addicts who obviously didn’t know their way to his father’s smoking room, and out of habit were standing outside the front door, shivering in the chill wind.

Mas ran back inside, hugging his arms around himself. “Bloody hell, it’s fucking parky out there.”

“Don’t know why you needed to talk to Grenville for so long. He was an arrogant bastard at school and he still is, by the looks of it.”

“Yeah, but he’s okay. You’ve just gotta know how to talk to guys like him. Let ’em think they’re getting the best of you all the time. Anyway, he’s just lost his gran and there’s a bunch of quality old clothes going spare. Thought we might like to have a look at them. We’re gonna need to get new stock in soon. Can’t keep going on your aunt’s stuff forever. Think we might get a good deal too. He seemed kind of into me. Definitely swings both ways, if you ask me.” Mas smirked, then shivered.

Perry wanted to wrap his arms around Mas to warm him up, but the presence of all these relatives and old school “friends” was inhibiting. Mas didn’t seem to have the same problem, though. He flung an arm around Perry’s shoulders in a way that probably could have passed for heterosexual chumminess if his gayness wasn’t so obvious to everyone who clapped eyes on him.

Was Grenville really interested in Mas? The thought annoyed him. Perry wanted everyone to know Mas was his. Taken. Out of bounds, no matter how much Mas flirted and teased. Because that was all it was, a tease. He was sure of that now.

And actually, those teasing ways had served them well as far as acceptance by the extended family and friends went. Perry’s parents might be unimpressed, but Mas seemed to have charmed everyone else he met, including his sister, who had positively gushed about him when she managed to corner Perry alone for a moment.

Aunt Edith walked by, arm in arm with a doddery old man Perry didn’t recognise, and glared out from under her ridiculous feathery fruit-bowl of a hat. She muttered something to her companion, but all Perry caught were the words, “Disgusting spectacle”. Okay, so maybe Mas hadn’t charmed everyone, but what did he care about the likes of bitter old Aunt Edith and her cronies?

Perry stared back defiantly and wrapped his arm around Mas in return. There, let them make their judgements if they wanted to. He was proud of the man he was with, and he wasn’t about to act like he had something to be ashamed of.

Mas was waxing lyrical about the general amazingness of the house and how he couldn’t believe Perry had grown up here. “I mean, you could fit the flat I grew up in five times over just in this entrance hall. No, probably six times if you count that great big dome at the top. It’s fucking amazing. Bet the heating bills are a small fortune.”

Perry nodded along, making the right noises but all the time watching Aunt Edith. She’d headed straight over to his father, and the two of them were deep in conversation, presumably about him and Mas, judging by the dark looks being shot in their direction.

Eventually his father gave a decisive nod and began to stride over in their direction.

Shit. What should he do? Mas was still talking nineteen to the dozen, pointing at the portrait of one of his ancestors and speculating on the sexuality of the artist who’d so lovingly detailed the crotch area. Perry’s arm twitched. Did he dare keep it there, with Sir Nigel on the warpath?

But if he didn’t care what Aunt Edith thought, why should he care about the man who’d spent a lifetime trying to convince him how little he mattered? His father didn’t love him, and Mas did. That was what mattered, after all. Perry pulled Mas in tighter and pressed a quick kiss to his temple.

“What was that for?” Mas looked up at him, puzzled.

“Ignore everything my father says, okay?” Perry whispered, before turning to face the man in question.

“I’d appreciate it if you two could learn to behave like respectable members of society while under my roof,” his father hissed, too low to draw the attention of anyone nearby just yet.

Perry bristled, and he felt Mas’s back stiffen. “We are respectable. There’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing.”

“It might be acceptable when you’re playing shop with all your other deviant, lowlife friends, but here you’re creating a spectacle. Holding on to each other and kissing.” He spat out the last word and grimaced like it had left a nasty taste in his mouth.

“You call that a kiss?” Mas butted in. “That was nothing. You should see us kissing properly with tongues. Or actually, you probably shouldn’t, coz you’d probably spontaneously combust or have a heart attack or something.”

Sir Nigel sneered, then quite deliberately turned back to Perry as if Mas was beneath his notice. “Please control your pet queer. I don’t appreciate being spoken to that way in my own home.”

“He’s not my pet, he’s my boyfriend. And we’re both queer. Do you have a problem with that?”

“As if you even need to ask. Peregrine, please.” Sir Nigel dropped his voice. “Is it money you need? I can make it worth your while to live a respectable life.”

Perry should have been angry, but he’d heard all this before and it only made him sad that his father would stoop to such blatant bribery and manipulation. “I don’t need your money. Aunt Betty provided for me, and the shop’s all mine now. I can live a perfectly respectable life running it with Mas. We don’t need anything from you.”

Sir Nigel’s lips set in a thin line and his nostrils flared. “If it were up to me, I’d throw you both out right now.”

“So why don’t you?” Perry taunted, his voice rising. People were turning to look, and he knew that would be making his father uncomfortable. It felt good, goading the old man like that. He didn’t have to be afraid of him anymore. Power buzzed where his body touched Mas’s, and courage surged through him. “We only came to see Letty and wish her well, and I think we’ve already done that. I’d be quite happy to leave and get back to playing shop. What about you, dearest?”

Mas raised an eyebrow—hopefully at the unfamiliar pet name rather than at the sentiment—and tilted his head. “Sounds delightful. Can’t wait to get home and rip all your clothes off. But we don’t want to miss the reception. Letty was quite insistent we be there, wasn’t she?”

Perry didn’t remember her saying anything of the kind, but he was happy to go along with whatever mischief Mas wanted to weave. “Sorry, Father. Looks like you’re stuck with us for a bit longer. We can’t upset the bride now, can we? It wouldn’t be the done thing.”

Sir Nigel looked like he was about to reply, but just then the bride and groom approached, beaming widely. “Perry, Mas, I’m so glad we found you both,” Letty gushed. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, would you join us later for the first dance? It would mean the world to me to have you there too.”

“Erm…” The old arguments about not dancing dried up in Perry’s throat. Letty had such a hopeful smile on her face, and so did Mas. And his father looked like he was about to throw up. This was a win-win situation, even for a man who hated being put on display like that. “Of course we will, but I must warn you, I’m a little rusty.”

“You’ll be fine.” Letty leaned in towards Mas and spoke in a whisper designed to carry. “He used to whirl me around when I was learning ballroom. Quite dashing, he was.”

Mas arched an eyebrow. “I thought you had two left feet.”

Perry mumbled something in the direction of the feet in question. Damn Letty for blowing his cover story.

“Marvellous, that’s settled, then.” Letty hugged him and then squealed into his ear. “Oh, look, it’s Tabitha. I simply must catch up with her. See you both on the dance floor later.”

They all watched as she strode off in the direction of her old friend, and then Perry felt Hector’s hand land on his shoulder.

“Perry, old chap! I saw a picture of your sculptures in
Country Living
. Bloody marvellous they were. I was thinking of commissioning something for the garden. What would you charge for a full-size unicorn? I know Letty would love one. It could be a surprise birthday present for her if you could finish it in time for October.”

Perry ignored his father and started making arrangements with Hector, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sir Nigel’s glare. Fortunately the old man had enough sense of decorum not to say anything else before stalking off in Great Aunt Edith’s direction.

Three hours later, they were lounging in the marquee after a meal so delicious Mas had actually gone and asked the waitress for a doggy bag. Most of the rest of the people on their table had gone to the bar, and since they’d been seated in a corner—no doubt Perry’s arsehole of a dad’s doing—they had a little bit of privacy at last. Mas leaned back in his chair and caught Perry’s eye. “You still up for dancing?” He patted his stomach. “Might need half an hour or so to digest this. Bloody hell. I’m not used to food that rich. Look, I think I’m getting a cheese baby.” He stuck his tummy out farther, which probably wasn’t the done thing, but right now he really couldn’t give a toss what anyone thought of him. Except Perry, of course, but Perry was smiling back at him.

“Cheese baby? They haven’t even served the cheese course yet.”

“Bloody hell. It’s no wonder all the old geezers are so round around the middle. You served me food like this every day, I’d soon be popping all my buttons. You’d go right off me.”