Cricket (27 page)

“We’re going to have ham and eggs and chips for tea,” Ellie said, finding her voice at last.

“That sounds delicious,” Henry told her. “I hope you enjoy it.”

Ellie beamed. He led them out of the barn and waved as they headed back up the path to their car. Somewhat reluctantly, Henry returned to the kitchen and his work. Ellie and her mother had been a nice interruption.

“You spend your life hunched over that bloody laptop,” Ryan said as he padded into the kitchen a half hour later.

“Do not,” Henry immediately retorted, straightening his posture.

“Do too,” Ryan mumbled. “Tea?”

“I’d love one.”

While the kettle boiled, Ryan amused himself by fluttering tiny kisses all over the back of Henry’s neck, up to his ear and down as far as the collar of his shirt. Although he’d never admitted it out loud, this was one of Henry’s favorite places to be kissed, and Ryan was exceptionally good at it.

Henry stretched up, his arms reaching for the ceiling, relishing the way each individual vertebra cracked back into place. Where his shirt rode up, Ryan’s hands soon grasped his bare waist, an anchor for his still roaming lips.

Their sex life was still ambling along at a fairly sedate pace, but the most shocking part of the whole thing was that Henry was finding himself not caring. It didn’t matter if they fucked once a week or every night. The undeniable truth was that they were having fun. It felt good. And he was falling into a relationship with a man who could only be described as his best friend.

It was confusing as hell. The last relationship he’d been in, with Drew, was the result of a one-night stand that turned into a week-long fuck-fest, and they pretty much carried on from there. And that was the only basis for comparison he had. With Ryan, each moment seemed to count, all the times they went to the pub with friends or went out to play cricket or… rescue each other from runaway goats. It was layers of friendship and intimacy combined, and it was more than a little uplifting.

Henry swiveled on the stool and pulled Ryan down into a soft kiss, pressing both his hands to the strong chest that was such a turn-on. When Ryan pulled away, Henry reached out and ran his fingertips over the curve of Ryan’s upper arm. He’d wanted to ask for a while, but not really had a chance. Mostly, when Ryan took his shirt off (or was just wearing a tank top, like he was now), Henry was very quickly distracted.

“Leo?” he asked, guessing correctly on the first attempt.

There was a tattoo, a fairly large one, which covered most of Ryan’s arm and on to the curve of his shoulder. It was a lion’s head done in tones of black and gray, placid, intense eyes with a bushy mane that fanned out from the face.

“No,” Ryan said absently, then grinned. “Gryffindor.”

“No way!” Henry exclaimed, laughing.

“You’re a muppet,” Ryan said and pushed Henry playfully away.

Henry hummed and aligned their bodies again. “I always thought of myself as more of the Slytherin type, actually,” he said. “Want to play kinky Harry Potter sex games? I’ll be Draco. You can be Harry.”

“You’re not blond,” Ryan pointed out and ran his fingers through Henry’s glossy brown hair to prove his point.

Henry pouted. “Use your imagination. I can certainly think of what I can use as my magic wand.”

Unable to stop the silly giggles, Ryan pulled Henry closer and buried his face in the other man’s neck, holding him tight.

“Hmm hr hmm oo?”

“What?”

Ryan pulled away. “What would I do without you?”

“Live a terribly boring life,” Henry said sincerely.

“Hey, I meant to ask you. We’re going down to Newquay for my birthday. Do you wanna come?”

“Where’s that?”

“Down on the south coast of Cornwall,” Ryan said, smiling indulgently, still stroking Henry’s hair. “It’s a bit of a party spot, and there’s amazing surfing.”

“Okay,” Henry said, leaning into Ryan’s touch. “Sounds good.”

“A few guys from the team will go down, I expect, and Stella will go down in Andy’s camper van.”

“Are we going to stay down there?”

“Yeah, only overnight, though. Don’t worry. I’ve got a tent.”

Henry frowned. “Oh,
now
you mention the tent.”

“Is that a problem?”

He fixed Ryan with an even stare. “Mama doesn’t camp.”

Ryan tried, and failed, to suppress a grin. “Mama does now.”

Eighteen

T
HE
last thing to do before opening the house to the public was to get one woman’s seal of approval. If he was honest, it was the first time he’d been nervous about the work he’d done for some time. It felt like all his weeks, months, even, of work and research were about to be tested.

Nell was picked up by a cab from her home and travelled to the house with Sandra, the home’s manager. Henry watched from the front door as she was helped from the car and into a wheelchair, settled herself with her purse on her lap before giving a little nod to indicate she was ready.

“Henry,” Nell said warmly as he offered her a hand to help her into the house. He didn’t like thinking of her as frail, but she undoubtedly was, and took a seat back in the wheelchair as soon as was possible.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Excited,” she said. “And a little nervous.”

“Me too,” he admitted, feeling suddenly at ease. “Let me show you around.”

It felt a little like giving the first tour of the house. He had a draft of a script in his head, pointing out the original features of the house and what had been restored, stories about the rich history, and yet more about his family.

Nell nodded her approval of each room in turn and seemed especially pleased with the work he’d done restoring the ladies’ parlor room. It was one of his favorite rooms in the house, although it had been tough to start with. When renovations had first begun, he’d had no idea of what should go in there and had instructed Scott to restore the wood paneling the best he could. Many hours of research later, he’d painted the room a light sage-green color and filled it with little tables, vases full of flowers, beautiful antique cabinets, delicate armchairs, a chaise longue, and a pretty floral settee for two.

“There’s something I need your help with, actually,” Henry said, showing Nell back through to the entrance hall.

In the attic, Henry had found several paintings and a few more framed pictures that had been stored there. He imagined the grand paintings probably once hung on the walls in the main part of the house, and surmised that they, like so many other examples of grandeur and excess, were removed when the house had served as a field hospital during the Second World War. He could see how it would appear grotesque to have antiquities on show while men were dying in the rooms built to demonstrate the very wealth he had now inherited.

“Do you know where any of these should go?” he asked.

Nell looked pleased to be asked and cast her eye over the paintings.

“That, my dear, unless I’m very much mistaken, is an original Manet.”

“A what?” Henry asked dizzily.

“A Manet. My father acquired it before I was born.”

“Are you serious?” Henry asked, his eyes darting from his great-grandmother to the painting and back again. “I’ve just had it propped up against the wall….”

“It survived,” Nell said with a touch of humor.

“But… shouldn’t it be in a gallery somewhere?”

“Good gracious, no. It belongs above the fireplace in the smoking room, to answer your original question. There are plenty of great works of art owned by private collectors,” she added, on seeing Henry’s expression. “Owning one is not something to be ashamed of.”

Sandra obligingly pushed Nell around the ground floor of the house again as they redistributed the paintings to where they were supposed to go or, in the cases of the few where Nell couldn’t remember, where she thought they should go. Her enthusiasm for the task was worth more than any words of approval.

As he showed Nell back to the car, he didn’t miss her slight exhale, the soft lines of sadness around her eyes as she took in the sight of her family home, restored, smelling of beeswax and the lemony cleaning fluid he used on the entrance hall tiles. He knew as well as she did that she may never visit again. It had been many, many years since she had been through it last, and he couldn’t imagine why she’d want to come back. Although beautiful, it was still a place where she’d seen terrible things, watched men die. He didn’t blame her for her reluctance to return.

At the car, he once again offered her his hand as she slid into the passenger seat.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. “I must admit I enjoyed that.”

Henry returned her smile. “It was my pleasure. Thank you for coming out here.”

“Do you know when the house will be opened?”

“Hopefully, within the next few weeks,” Henry said. “I’ve been contacting the local press, TV, and newspapers, and trying to stoke up some national interest too.”

“I will certainly keep an eye out for anything,” Nell said. “And I wish you the best of luck, Henry, truly.”

He nodded. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Take care, dear.”

“G
O
CAMPING
, they said,” Henry griped. “It’ll be fun, they said.”

“It will be fun,” Stella said, hoisting Jack farther up onto her hip as they walked down the hill to the sea.

“That’s easy for you to say. You get to sleep in a camper.”

Stella only laughed.

“I don’t know what you two are looking so smug about,” Ryan said and shifted the enormous bag of
stuff
he was carrying. “He moaned all the way down here in the car.”

“So did Jack Jack,” Andy said.

“Jack Jack is two.”

“Fair point.”

The day was glorious—the sky an impossibly rich blue, dotted with fluffy clouds that danced over the sea. It was warm enough for shorts and flip-flops and layers of sun cream. Henry knew he’d burn if he wasn’t careful.

Even though it was only just midday, the beach was already packed, and Ryan led them to the far end of Fistral Bay, where the waves crashed against lethal-looking jagged rocks, and the surfers, farther out in the sea, looked like tiny multicolored dots.

“The others should be here soon,” Ryan said. “I’ll text them and let them know where we are.”

It didn’t take long for his annoyance over the camping situation to wane. After shaking out a towel and lying down, slathered in sunblock, shades on, Henry decided that maybe the weekend wouldn’t be a total washout.

He wasn’t quite prepared for the arrival of at least ten more people. He knew them all, of course, guys from the cricket team and some of their girlfriends, mostly guys, though, loud and energetic with their bags and surfboards.

There was space, just about, for everyone to lay out their blankets and towels and set up windbreakers for some shade. Between Stella and Andy and the rest of the guys, there was a ridiculous amount of food, drinks in coolers, and an ice box, which contained just ice cream.

It was rare for Henry to be one of the quiet ones in a group, but the guys from the team were just so
loud,
it was nice to take something of a backseat and just let the chatter happen around him.

When Stella plopped down next to him, Henry managed to crack an eye open.

“You’re blocking my sun,” he said evenly.

She laughed and dumped Jack on his chest, making him “oomph” as the air was forced out of his lungs. Grumbling, Henry propped himself up and shifted the little boy to a safer position on his lap.

“Are you okay?” Stella asked.

“Sure. What makes you ask?”

“You’re quiet,” Stella said lightly. “And you’re not, normally.”

Henry shrugged and ran his hand over Jack’s hair, smoothing it out. “There’s a lot of people here,” he said by way of an explanation.

“So?”

“So… I’m not sure if I feel comfortable being… being me.”

“Henry,” she said sternly. “You are a lovely guy and a good friend. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel bad about who you are.”

“But all these guys are so… macho. And I’m not. And,” he said, lowering his voice so Jack wouldn’t overhear them. “They’re all way too much like my kinda man, if you know what I mean.”

Stella pursed her lips together, then burst out laughing. “Oh, darling,” she said gently, petting his hair.

When Ryan suggested taking Jack down to the sea, Henry readily agreed. It was a chance for the two of them to be on their own, if only for a little while. Stella lathered sunblock over her son and covered him up in a hat and T-shirt before they left for the journey down to the water’s edge.

There were plenty of other kids around, of varying ages, from babies in their parent’s arms to younger children, unattended, but not far from the watchful eyes of adults lying supine on beach towels.

Jack immediately plopped himself down into the sea, slapping at the water and laughing delightedly. Deciding it was best to join him, Henry sat down too in the deliciously cool water.

He was surprised but pleased when Ryan sat down behind him and wrapped his arms around Henry’s torso, his fingertips gently skimming over Henry’s abs. Ryan dropped his chin to Henry’s shoulder and pressed a gentle kiss to his ear.