This wasn’t his second home anymore.
The next partof Ed’s journey was a complete blur ceasing only when he stood at the top of a sweeping driveway. It split in two directions: the left leading to a large white-painted Georgian house half covered in thick vines of wisteria, the right to a block of stone-built stables. He followed the right-hand driveway that was lined with samples of his mother’s garden statues for sale.
He found her at the kitchen table in the stable block he’d helped to convert into a home. Maybe he’d run all the way instead of walking—it took a minute or two before he caught his breath enough to answer her questions with more than one word. He surprised himself as well as her when the first sentences he got out were “I’m sorry, Mum. I’m not staying.”
“No, darling? But you just got here.” His mum turned her back and got busy, first pouring him a glass of water that tasted so much better than the stuff out of the tap in London. Then she made tea and hugged him for as long as it took to steep. Ed wrapped his arms around her, nose tucked into her hair, breathing in the scent of eucalyptus shampoo that took him back to childhood. His grip on her tightened, and she patted his back.
By the time Ed sat down and she poured, the tea was lukewarm and much darker than usual. She pushed a mug halfway across the table. “I’m here, if you want to talk,” she said. “Or I’ll drive you to the station if you don’t.” Deep lines feathered at the corner of her eyes. “But I listened to your message. Didn’t you say that the contract you signed meant you had to make a video at home?”
Ed pulled a mug toward him. “It does.” He’d signed it after the first audition without doing much more than skimming its contents. The only two clauses he’d been interested in had been very simple.
“So, if you go back now, won’t you break it?”
Ed nodded, then shook his head. “I’ll stick to their contract—film something while I’m here. I’ve started, but?—”
“But?”
“I’ve lost someone already.” And his family as well, it seemed, if Steve’s mum’s reaction was any measure. “I…. Pasha….”
“You’re not making much sense, love.” The scrape of his mum’s chair on tile was high-pitched and loud. Her next words, on the other hand, were a quiet whisper in his ear as she hugged him one more time. “You like this Pasha for real, then?”
“Yeah… no… I….” Her pats on his back were pathetically reassuring. “I need to find out what he’s thinking. At the start this whole contest was about Steve. Pasha was just a way to get closer to the final.” The next words were hard to get out. “But nothing I do is ever gonna bring Steve back. He was my oldestfriend. Pasha’s just like him in some ways. Losing his friendship too?—”
“Friendship, darling?” His mum held him tighter before letting go and slipping back into her seat. “Last night it looked like he sang just for you.”
“He was acting.”
“It certainly looked very convincing before the lights went out. Very dramatic. And so romantic.”
Heat prickled his chest. “He… uh… nothing happened.”
“Ah. So why the rush to leave now?”
“Because I thought somethingwasgoing to happen. He’s not even gay, Mum.” That was clear now Ed had time to think it over. “He’s not even gay, and he might not want to carry on with our deal now. I need to know what he thinks before we get back to that house. We don’t get to tell the truth there, not really. Not about anything important.”
“So….”
“So I’ll shower and stay for lunch, if that’s okay? Then I’ll take some more footage with you in the garden.” He rubbed at his eyes, which felt gritty through lack of sleep. “Management doesn’t need to know I only stayed a few hours. I’ll get the train back this afternoon, and they’ll be none the wiser.”
“Back to London?”
“No.” That heat crept up even farther. “To wherever they’ve sent Pash.”
If Pasha wouldn’t answer his calls, he’d get Anya to track down his address. And if she drew a blank, he’d do exactly what Pasha had taught him and throw himself on the mercy of social media. The fans who’d tracked their movements for weeks would find him in a heartbeat.
He left his mum and headed upstairs. His bedroom was as he’d left it, crammed with nine years of belongings from his time in the forces. He dug out clothes and then showered while hismum pottered around downstairs. After weeks in a house where every moment was caught on camera, there was relief in letting his guard down. The sounds of home wrapped around him as he shaved—the hiss of the kettle downstairs, the knock of someone at the front door, and the sound of his mum laughing. If he only had an hour or two before he left, he’d make the most of this time with her.
That thought, more than anything, made him hurry. Ed ducked to avoid the low roof beams upstairs and took the stairs two-by-two before pushing his way back into the kitchen. He flicked on the light switch, clouds outside having left the day as dull as his earlier mood.
The seat Ed had vacated no more than fifteen minutes before was no longer empty.
Pasha looked as tired as Ed felt, but when he said a quiet hi and smiled, Ed’s whole day grew brighter.
10
PASHA
Pasha had rehearsed what he planned to ask Ed all the way from London. Changing trains twice and a long wait for a connection meant his questions were rock solid in his head. But just like so often on stage, words slipped away like new lyrics as soon as he opened his mouth.