“You lazy buggers,” he called jovially as soon as he saw Solomon and Wallace.“Where’s the rum and ale?You’ve already drunk it all.”
Solomon laughed.“Lazy bugger yourself.I see your hands are empty.”
Someone was dispatched to fetch jugs of watered rum, and they spent the rest of the afternoon drinking on the fair green, lighting a fire as evening approached.
Wallace, with his powerful bass voice, was persuaded to sing.Some of the others joined in.Solomon lay on his back in the grass, watching sparks drift up into the sky and letting the songs wash over him.
Life was good.Better than he had ever thought it would be when he first ran away.
One of the other men elbowed him, offering him the jug of rum, and he sat up to hold out his mug.On the opposite side of the fire, a young ostler had pulled his wife onto his lap and she was giggling, loud and joyful, in his ear.Solomon took a swallow of his drink, wondering idly what that felt like: being in love.
By the time Wallace had been in London a year, Solomon knew him pretty well.He’d bedded him twice, before they both agreed that the spark wasn’t there.They’d spent many happy hours drinking and talking together, or wandering around town on their rare days off.
By the time Wallace had been in London two years, he and Solomon were talking about going into business together, supplying post-horses.It was a pipe-dream—between them, they barely had six shillings to their names—but a pleasant one to talk through over a pint of porter.
But then came the evening that changed everything, though at the time it seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary.
They were at the Bermondsey alehouse they still frequented, deep in conversation with two other friends, when Solomon noticed a man watching them.There was something vaguely familiar about his face, but it took Solomon a moment to place it.Then it clicked into place: the man had bought Solomon a drink once and then sucked him off under a tree in Moorfields, perhaps two years earlier.He had said he was a Naval officer, about to leave the country.That was all Solomon could remember about him.
Seeing that he’d been noticed, the man rose and came to join them at their table.
“Well met, friend,” he said to Solomon, who gave him an answering nod.
“Sit down, why don’t you?”
“Wasn’t sure if you’d remember me,” the man said.
“I don’t remember your name, I’m afraid—if you even gave it to me.”
“It’s Hugo.”
“I’m Solomon.”
The man acknowledged this with a half-bow.“Going to introduce me to your friends?”
He was looking particularly at Wallace as he said this, and Wallace was returning his interest whole-heartedly, as Solomon noted with amusement.
Introductions performed, the man took a seat at their table.
“You were in the Navy, I mind?”Solomon said.
“Yes.My ship’s been paid off.I find myself at liberty for the moment—and cannot conceive of a greater pleasure than to be at liberty in this fair town.”He was well spoken, with rather more of the gentleman’s polish than was usually heard in this place.But lust was the great leveller, after all.
Solomon liked him immediately: he was an entertaining fellow, with self-deprecating wit and a ready laugh.And it was entertaining to watch him and Wallace shift gradually closer as the evening went on.
Solomon soon left them to it.He had his eye on a man who seemed to have been trying to catch his attention for the past twenty minutes.And he wasn’t wrong—ten minutes later they were in the bushes behind the alehouse and the fellow was treating him to a very enjoyable cocksucking.
The next day at the Crown, Solomon saw off the Brighton stagecoach, then turned to see the Naval officer, Hugo, standing at the entrance to the yard.He caught Solomon’s eye and raised a hand in greeting.
Solomon made await theregesture, then ducked into the stables to find Wallace.“You’ve a gentleman caller,” he murmured into Wallace’s ear.“That Naval fellow from last night.”
Wallace’s face lit up.
“Go on.”Solomon jerked his head at the door to the yard.“I’ll cover for you here.”
Wallace came back five minutes later, face wreathed in smiles.“We’re meeting at the Rope Walks at ten o’clock tomorrow night.”
That cheerfulness persisted over the following weeks, but Solomon didn’t have a chance to quiz him about it until they were both sent to fetch two horses from the Arbour Inn in Kensington.
