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This year was no different.
My invitation arrived the day Evan went back to work. As soon as he left, I attempted to join Bill in sluicing down the milking parlour, only to be strongarmed out again, on the orders of ‘my surgeon friend.’ What had Bill thought about the navy BMW parked in the yard the past four days? Evan's overnight presence was hard to ignore, but there had been no edge to his voice.
Banned from my own bloody livestock, I spent the day catching up on paperwork and pottering about the kitchen, Zeus trailing after me like a second shadow. At lunchtime, I fortified myself with a sausage sandwich, then tackled a recipe for vegan shepherd’s pie. Seemed one of my kitchen cupboards was now devoted to lentils. God, how my life had changed.
Lentils, I discovered a while later, had the consistency of lead shot. Just as I was debating whether I should have soaked them first as the recipe had suggested, the lentil purchaser bumped up the drive in his flash car. A ridiculous thrill of excitement buzzed through me.
“We have a matching set.” Catching me around the waist, Evan picked up my invitation which I’d forgotten about already. Freddie was very sweet, but bowties and the landed gentry really weren’t my scene.
“Jay invites me every year, too. I’ve been a few times, when work has allowed.” He frowned slightly. “I’ve never seen you there. I’d remember if I had.”
“No, you haven’t.” I imagined Evan looked very at home in a dinner jacket. I imagined Evan looked very at home stripped out of a dinner jacket too. My next words took us both completely by surprise. “Why don’t I make this year a first?”
Toby’s mannying routines hadn’t changed much since the days I used to ‘accidentally’ bump into him around the estate. Even back then, he hadn’t always been pleased to see me, although we often furtively relieved each other’s frustrations behind a tree or across the front seat of my truck. His sexy wiggling walk, as he pushed the earl’s youngest in his pushchair from the duckpond to the woods to the play park, used to be a highlight of my day. Even though, whenever we found ourselves shoulder to shoulder in the Rossingley Arms, I behaved like an utter shit and barely acknowledged him.
Toby had been proudly out since his school days, whereas I shrank away from him, petrified anyone would put two and two together. He should have loathed me; his boyfriend certainly did. But he had the kindest of hearts. When I found him and baby Orlando hand feeding carrot tops over the fence to a very grateful X554 and M20, he greeted me warily.
“No wonder these two are off their hay,” I joked as I climbed down from the truck. “They’re being spoiled.”
Toby laughed, and Orlando’s big brown eyes solemnly blinked up at me before he turned his attention back to the cows.
“I think we all know who does most of the spoiling around here,” answered Toby with a shy grin. “Don’t we, Orlando? Your cows are Orlando’s favourites for very good reasons, Rob.”
Huh. Seemed my tough-guy reputation might not be as secure as I’d thought.
“Can we talk, Toby?” I asked him, before my nerve failed me. Hesitancy flashed across his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to try and…you know. How is it going with Noah, by the way?”
Toby’s shoulders relaxed, and he threw me a cautious smile as he handed another bag of carrot tops to Orlando. “Um…great actually. We’re…we’ve moved into the little cottage at the end of Stable Row together. Noah’s enrolled in a course at the college in Allenmouth.”
“That’s great news. Good to hear it.”
We stood awkwardly, watching the delighted toddler squirm as M20’s sandpaper tongue licked his pudgy little fingers.
“Why are you here?” he asked suddenly, in what passed as a harsh tone for a guy as easy-going as Toby. Even Orlando glanced up from his important task, and Toby rested a reassuring hand in his dark curls.
“Mostly I’m here to say sorry. Properly. I’ve been meaning to say it for a while now. Sorry for being such a shit to you over the years. You didn’t deserve it, any of it.”
Toby’s face wore a what the fuck expression, still not entirely trusting this wasn’t a slimy attempt to sweet-talk him round, not trusting I wouldn’t try and jump him as soon as Orlando’s back was turned. He needn’t have worried; that version of Rob Langford was gone for good. “What’s brought this on?”
I hesitated. But if not guileless Toby, then who? Freddie always lent a sympathetic ear, but he could no more slip into the shoes of an average tenant farmer scared to come out of the closet than I could sashay down a catwalk zipped into a corset.
“It’s not a what, it’s a who. I…I…Toby. Can I ask your advice?”
Now I really had confused him. The cocky, swaggering dairy farmer he’d idolised for years had been replaced by a weary uncertain clone. This version was preferrable. He shrugged.
“Yeah, I don’t see why not. Although unless you’re adopting small babies imminently, and want my opinion on branded versus unbranded nappies, then I doubt I have much to offer. For the record, branded, every time. Less leg leakage.”
I gave Orlando a sidelong look. “I’ll…um…thanks. I’ll bear that in mind.”
Having filled my cows' greedy bellies with the bovine equivalent of a can of full-fat Coke, Orlando took Toby’s hand and toddled towards the patch of lawn housing his swing set. We walked another ten or so paces. “How do you do it?” I blurted suddenly. “Be…be out. And seem to…I don’t know, find it easy. Telling people. And…and being yourself.”
I deserved nothing from him, but to his credit, he tried to come up with a sensible response. “I suppose I became tired of living two lives. Of having this secret that I was desperate to share but too scared of people’s reactions when I did. And then one day, I just plucked up the nerve. And wondered afterwards what all the fuss had been about. It was a bit of an anti-climax, to be honest.”
“Huh.” Uncharacteristically quiet, I plodded next to him. “Was that it?”
“Yeah. Pretty much. As I said, it was an anti-climax. I was young. My biggest worry was whether my parents would still love me. And when they did,” he shrugged, “well, that was it, really.”
“My parents are retired and live in Spain. They wouldn’t care either way. They just want me to be happy. My sister, too. It’s…it’s just everyone else.”
