“Don’t panic, they’re here. On the kitchen island. Is this something I need to be aware of going forward, your forgetfulness?”
“Hey, I’m normally pretty good, but I must have been distracted by something as I was leaving. Can’t think what! I lent them to Jack when he popped out yesterday and forgot to put them back on my keyring this morning. I’ll call you as soon as I’m on my way back. How are things going there?”
“Give me a chance. I’ve only just started. I’m starting on the dresser, giving the piece a final spruce-up before arranging the plates and platters on the shelves. And then the table. I think it’s going to look amazing. In case I’m tied up, I’ll leave the front door open for you. Then you can let yourself in.”
“No. Let’s not tempt fate. I’ll come around the back.”
After ending the call, Leonard lost all sense of time. Applying his preferred brand of beeswax polish to the dresser from top to bottom, the furniture eventually sparkled and smelled amazing. Kneeling on the floor, he viewed the showpiece in a new light with its starkly empty shelves. In his enthusiasm to start, he had forgotten about the boxes of plates and other items in his car boot. Three trips later, and boxes of plates and platters and other items covered the surface of the dining room table.
Having already removed the old newspaper and cleaned the insides of each drawer, he filled the first with placemats. Once loaded, the compartment slid comfortably shut. The second drawer, stacked with assorted tablecloths and silk table napkins, proved a little more problematic, needing more effort to close and, even then, moving stiffly. The final one, now containing table decorations of candles and candle holders, napkin rings and wine openers, moved with the same ease as the first.
Something nagged at Leonard. The middle drawer kept sticking slightly and didn’t sit right, not like the others. At first, he dismissed this as either wear and tear or careless workmanship. Except, bearing in mind the precision and attention to detail of the whole piece, the theory went against all logic.
Exasperated, he pulled open the middle drawer again and placed all the linen back on the table, then tried closing the drawer again. But he still met with the same resistance. Eventually, frustrated, he pulled the drawer out, lifting the compartment to remove it from the main body of the dresser. After checking the sides and the back, he turned the drawer over—and there lay the culprit.
Something had been taped to the bottom. Wrapped in thick plastic—almost like the plastic sheeting they had used at the back of the house—he could not make out the contents. The whole thing had been taped securely in place with thick brown packing tape. Somebody had wanted this to remain hidden.
Leonard’s curiosity ramped up a notch.
To cut away the tape he would need a sharp tool and remembered he had a small toolbox in his car boot. When he returned with a box cutter, he noticed a missed call on his phone from Mary.
She would have to wait. He’d call her back as soon as he had finished. Sitting down at the table, his face towards the dresser, the drawer in front of him, he went to work methodically. Slicing carefully, he eventually unwrapped the plastic cover and very delicately unfolded the contents onto the table.
Taking up most of the space was a large brown envelope, the type with a cardboard backing used to send photographs and stop them from bending in the post. In fact, in the bottom left-hand corner, the words ‘Please Do Not Bend’ had been printed in red. On top of the large envelope there were two regular-sized envelopes; one sealed with the phrase ‘To Whom It May Concern’. The other, and the one that caught Leonard’s eye, had already been opened. Using what he assumed to be official stationery, the envelope had the words ‘Holy Trinity Church, Newbridge’, along the top, and had been addressed to Luke Darlington, typed up using a plain white, official-looking label.
Inside he discovered a flyer for a church summer fair and, tucked inside that, a letter on what seemed like tracing paper—very thin, almost translucent. Carefully unfolding the delicate paper, he read the words.
My Beloved Luke,
I received your letter, and I know you told me not to reply, but how could I not, no matter how risky? Which is why I am using this envelope and a typed label, so your family will hopefully suspect nothing.
Leonard held his breath, reading the words, realising Toni had been right. There had been a secret someone in Luke’s life.
My love, I share your pain, of course I do. We live in an age of contradictions, where we can drive a car, marry a girl and start a family. An era where we can fight and kill, or be killed for our country, and even get drunk every night of the week—but one where we are not allowed to be together, not in the way we wish to be.
Know only this, that I love you deeply and unashamedly, that I am content to wait the three more years until you reach the age of consent. Even then, things won’t be easy, our families and friends may not understand, may be hurt and confused, may even turn against us, but we will weather that storm because we will have each other and will stand firm together.
As far as the furniture is concerned, you cannot hope to salvage everything, my love. So I suggest you board up your favourite cupboard behind the wall when you decorate and before your family can take that away from you. From what I know of them, they will never know anything’s missing. Come a little earlier this summer, and I promise to help. I have some beautiful photographs of us to show you.
Most importantly, don’t lose hope. One day, we will do all the things we’ve talked about. We’ll tour Italy, visiting Venice and riding in a gondola together, we’ll climb the Spanish steps in Rome, cycle through Tuscany and watch the sunset in Florence. We’ll even visit the old war memorials of northern France, if that’s what you really want. And I promise to stand beside you while you photograph every precious moment.
But for now, my love, be patient and keep the faith, our faith.
Forever yours,
XXX
Leonard sat at the dining room table, reverently refolding and placing the letter back into the envelope. After a pause, a moment of reflection, he opened the larger pack, the old-fashioned type with the cardboard backing.
Very gingerly, he slid out a collection of beautifully maintained photographs, six vivid eleven-by-fourteen-inch black and white portraits. But he did not need to study them all, because when he saw the one on the top, the one that met his eyes, of Luke being held by another man, both smiling at each other, everything fell into place. On the back, in the same careful handwriting as the letter, a short message was penned—
One day we will be able to hang this photograph for everyone to see. One day, when we have a home of our own, when we are both free from commitments, we will live together and nobody can touch us, nobody will be able to come between us and our love.
And right then, right on cue, he heard the sliding door at the back of the house swoosh open.
Adrian had returned.
“Ade, come over here. You need to see this.”
