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“Don’t you recall what else we spoke of? If you do what you wish, it’ll be easy for me to find you. I can write.”
“I don’t think he recalls anything,” said Paul. He sat on the sofa’s arm closest to Alastair and Muriel’s eyes travelled between the two of them. Though he didn’t know why she’d be so pleased about it, she seemed heartened by their proximity to each other. “He asked me how he got here.”
“It’s not so far between here and The Bell,” she said dismissively. “Mr. Gow, you kept telling me you wanted to stay in Cromer. Many times. And then you’d say you shouldn’t, or you couldn’t — but you wanted to.”
“Alastair,” he said, as Paul’s hand seemed to travel with its own mind to his shoulder. “Please. ‘Mr. Gow’ was my father, and he was an awful man. Why did I say I wanted to stay?”
“All right. I know you’ve already told me to ignore formalities. It’s just habit.” She grinned. “But you said you wanted to stay on account of Mr. — Paul. That much I gathered while you were slurring. For what it’s worth, I believe you do.”
They could have heard a mouse scamper across the floor in the silence following her words. Paul hadn’t taken his hand back. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue before he spoke. “We’ve just met.” He added, “We only met because he asked me to hide him from your father.” But he knew what he wanted Alastair to do, even if such a want was possibly shortsighted.
Muriel chuckled and shrugged, a fluid gesture that suited the inky blue of her dress and brought to mind deep water’s movements. “Hearts are strange. Time may not matter, much. Abigail and I met at a haberdashery when she asked for the last yard of the same violet ribbon I was after. Frankly, I despised her at first.”
Despite having seen himself in bed with Alastair after they’d just met, Paul found it curious he didn’t see more to do with Muriel or what was ahead for her. But then, they weren’t close and probably weren’t in a position to become closer. Perhaps it followed that he couldn’t see a thing.
“Alastair has told me just enough.” He smiled because he knew who Abigail was. “But she’s your…”
“My everything.”
Her simple words filled Paul with warmth, and he said, “I assume you won’t be remaining nearby.” She shook her head. That made sense; her father could try to find her if she decided to live so close to him. “If, though, you need a place to stay for a day or two in Norwich, say… The Swan is Edward’s and his wife’s. It’s just near the market. I’m sure they’d look after you until you decided what you were going to do.”
“That’s kind. I’d pay them, of course.”
“Did I really say I wanted to stay?”
They both looked at Alastair, who’d spoken with mild wonder. Paul tried not to tighten his grip on his shoulder. Muriel glanced at Paul. Then she said, “Yes.”
“And… the bit about his eyes. And… the rest of him. I said all that, too.”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “It disappointed the women sat on either side of you, I can say. But despite that, they did seem interested in Paul’s… well, his arse. And his prick.” She smirked at Alastair upon revealing this. “Or in your speculations about them, anyway. Sorry, Paul.”
He just shrugged and prayed he didn’t look too eager.
Quiet while Alastair appeared to think about all this, Paul wondered what it would be like for him to remain. It felt as though they were old friends returning to each other for the first time in years. He found he could imagine months, years alongside him. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know Alastair’s favorite jam or which side of the bed he slept on or whether he preferred green to red. Whatever the answers were to those kinds of questions, they wouldn’t feel surprising.
But he didn’t know if someone like Alastair would stay in a place like this. Paul enjoyed his life, yet if one was used to variety or even danger, he could guess mundanities might become monotonous. He didn’t know how Alastair would react to his stranger qualities, either.
“Then they should prepare for more disappointment,” said Alastair.
“What?” said Paul.
“I… look, I do feel like shit, and both of you know I was pissed. But I’m not now… and I still don’t want to leave.” Paul wanted to kiss him, yet this seemed like an important thing to let him articulate. “Would it be all right? If I stayed. I don’t know how it’ll be, of course, seeing as I’ve definitely set Sykes against me and I look like, well, me, which might not be good for your trade, but… it isn’t just physical attraction… it’s…”
Shaking his head, Paul ducked down a little and kissed him gently, mindful of the state of him after so much drink. But it was Alastair who made the kiss more sinuous, and Muriel who laughed and brought them both back to earth. Alastair laughed a little, himself, and pulled away just a hair from Paul.
“From the look of things, it would be a pleasurable arrangement,” Muriel said. “But I should get back to Abigail now that I know you didn’t break your neck. The Bell isn’t unsafe, but it’s rowdy. Don’t want to leave her alone too long.”
“Do you need anything before you set off?” Alastair asked.
“I don’t think so.”
Tracing his own lower lip lightly with his pointer finger, Paul said, “Wait.” He rose and went into the study to retrieve a number of coins and notes, evidence of last night’s trade. Even doing only a cursory tally in his head, he knew he wouldn’t miss them much. “Just in case.” He held out the money for her to take, and she did after a moment’s hesitation.
Alastair’s eyes burned on his back as Muriel said, though it was more a breath in the shape of a word, “Why?”
“Something might come up. Or you might want to celebrate. I hope it’s the latter. Think of it as a wedding gift.”
Muriel stood and kissed Paul on the cheek. “Thank you.”
