AllFreeNovel
Share Us
More pictures sat atop the waist-high bookshelf. He shouldn’t, but he wanted to dig into Henry’s childhood. Perhaps there’d be a picture of him missing his front teeth. . . .
He snuck over to the bookshelf; Georgie and Henry horse-riding; Georgie at a grand piano; Henry hanging from jungle bars; a greasy silver-framed photo featuring Mr. Tilney sitting with an elegantly dressed woman surrounded by dainty china. Relation, perhaps?
Cameron wanted to know everyone in Henry’s life and how they mattered.
Candles. He and Henry were candles.
He rubbed his nape, turned from the photos, and slunk back through the door.
“Cameron.”
Startled, Cameron shot his head up, kinking his neck. “Georgie.” He winced at the pulling ache. “I got lost. Thought this was the dining room.”
She met his eyes. “Nope.”
Cameron burned and shut the door.
“Curiosity gets the better of everyone in this house,” she said chuckling, and rolled off. “Follow me.”
They met Henry at the dining table. Toast, butter, jam, marmite, and peanut butter sat between glasses of orange juice. Henry had changed into his work clothes.
“You weren’t joking. You really do wear elbow patches to work.”
Henry peered over the newspaper he was browsing. Their gazes snagged and held; Henry’s eyes reflected last night’s fun. “Different attire, depending on what I’m doing.”
Cameron seated himself across the table.
Georgie took the space next to Cameron’s left. “You didn’t put out a space for Dad,” she said.
Henry’s gaze shot to her. “Dad’s in Auckland.”
“No, he caught the last flight back yesterday.”
“And a dreadful flight it was.” A suited man entered the room. His eyes caught on Cameron and his step hitched. “Georgie, you failed to mention we have a guest.”
Cameron smiled weakly. Henry folded his paper and set it aside. “Do you mind Cameron staying for a while? We have enough rooms.”
“Stay as long as you want.” He pulled out a chair. “Henry, get me a plate would you?”
Henry stood with a short nod and left the room.
“Orange juice, too,” Mr. Tilney called out. His smile widened. “Tell me, how did you two meet?”
Cameron started to speak and Georgie jumped over him, patting his forearm. “It’s the sweetest story. We met at the market. I drove into him accidentally and knocked him to the ground. He was so kind about it, despite the fact his poor hands were horribly grazed.”
Cameron frowned. “All better now. But the first time we met was at the wall. Next to Stine. When I was . . . visiting Henry.”
“Henry?” Mr. Tilney frowned. “You knew him first?”
“Briefly.”
Georgie hummed and continued patting his arm. “I like how well Cameron gets on with Henry, Dad. You can tell a lot about a man by how he acts with the family.”
“Quite right. Very good.”
Henry returned with a plate and cutlery, gaze homing in on Georgie’s hand. His stiff posture slackened and he smiled as he resumed his seat.
“Interesting double feature,” Mr. Tilney said.
Cameron had wondered how Mr. Tilney would take the gay elements of the film. Interesting could mean anything from curiosity to polite disgust.
“We hope to have another release next year.”
“The same theme?”
“A variation thereof.”
Mr. Tilney paused, then inclined his head. “I like a man with a solid paying job. Well done.”
Henry tapped a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. “Any plans for your day off, Cameron?”
“Day off?” Mr. Tilney said. “You should spend it with Georgie. It’s lovely out there on the cliffs. I know her boss doesn’t mind.” A wink. “When you’re done, we’ll go out for dinner.”
Tilney watched him expectantly. Cameron looked at Georgie, uncertain. “I do love cliffs.”
“I understood your dad liked that we were friendly,” Cameron said. “But does he think we’re together?”
Stuffed-toy penguins filled the shelves of the cute old-house gift shop overlooking wind-pummeled cliffs. Albatrosses hung from the ceiling. Georgie worked the till while her colleague ran a wheelchair-friendly tour of the local wildlife.
Georgie handed over a gift bag to the only patron and wished them a happy day.
“You’re not wrong, Poirot.”
Perhaps he could have clued things together a mite faster. “Why don’t you correct him?”
Georgie sighed. “Dad doesn’t know about Henry. Playing along throws off suspicion.”
Ah. “You don’t sound happy about it.”
“I’ll do anything to help my brother. And if this is what he needs right now . . .”
“Right.”
“It won’t last forever.”
The wax will melt, the light flicker out. Alicia will return.
Cameron swallowed. “I understand.”
“Come. We’ll run the next tour.”
Georgie led a group of five down gently declining ramps, through salty winds, to the beaches below. She pointed out penguins, seals, and shags. Through the chatter, Cameron stared across the harbor. Somewhere nestled in those hills, Henry was at his school, standing before his class of pre-teens, energetically passing on his love of literature.
Discussing it over lunch with his fellow teachers.
Was Cameron just another student for him? Would he soon graduate on to the next person?
