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He let the door slam behind him and walked the hallway, not regretting for a moment that he hadn’t said goodbye. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was the last time he’d ever see the inside of the building. It was just as likely the last time he’d be in Seattle. He’d loved the city, but he’d grown homesick. Leaving granted him a sense of relief when his marriage becoming unsalvageable had been cold comfort.
three
Eddie
Six Years Ago
The curtain had closed on his final performance as a student of the Royal College of the Arts. It was bittersweet. Eddie’s shine had sparkled at the school. He’d been able to be himself. Unashamedly so. No one blinked an eyelid when he’d worn make-up the first time to his classes. Instead, they’d complimented him on how his high cheekbones and pouty lips were highlighted. If he walked with a swish of his hips and a cut-off tee with his training tights or giggled a little more effeminately than even his sisters, no one criticized him. He wasn’t at risk of being hurt by someone for it. In fact, there would be a dozen other boys and girls doing exactly the same thing. It wasn’t all roses, though, and that’s what he’d loved about it. The teachers demanded perfection. He, himself, had demanded a standard above that. Competition in the school was fierce. Performances were important—the gateway to being seen by agents and talent scouts in an industry even more vicious than the most spiteful of competitors in the school—but they’d never been Eddie’s problem. He blitzed every audition, crediting his drive and focus to prove every one of his childhood bullies wrong. There had been no room for stupid errors, lapses in concentration, or weakness of any kind, and that suited Eddie to a T. He’d thrived in the cutthroat competition, consistently winning leading roles in performances.
But now he was leaving his safe haven.
He was heading home for a few weeks. He loved his family, and he didn’t see enough of them, but fear niggled at his throat, clawing at it like that scary clown in the drain as the seats next to and across from him on the train he was on filled up. He closed his eyes and concentrated on slowing his heartbeat, clearing his mind of all the interference like he did before a performance.
It didn’t help.
The clutch on Eddie’s throat gripped harder, closing his windpipe. He sucked in an urgent breath. That’s when he smelt them. Peanuts. He gasped again, panic gripping his chest and seizing his breath. His heart thundered, pumping blood through his veins. The allergic reaction took hold as his body went into shock from the lethal concoction in the air. Eddie fumbled through the pockets of his bag, searching for his EpiPen. “You right, mate?” a man asked from next to him. Halos tinged Eddie’s vision, and the sight of the man before him blurred.
Eddie tried to answer, but he was too far gone. His throat had closed completely, the blotchy patches that had broken out on his skin standing stark against his pale arms. Lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, Eddie shoved his hand deeper into the pocket and sifted through its contents, hoping he wouldn’t pass out before he found it. Old pens and chocolate wrappers, plasters, and even compression bandages filled the space. Where is it?
His hand shaking, Eddie pushed through the litter in his rucksack and his fingers closed around the one thing that would save him. Wrenching it out of the pocket, he knew the needle would punch through the denim of the jeans he was wearing if he had the strength to push it hard enough. Darkness tinged his vision, and he pressed down on the trigger. His fingers slipped, the EpiPen nearly clattering to the floor. Saved only by it falling onto his lap, he willed his mind to clear of the cottonwool, and he reached for it, his fingers closing around air. He fumbled for it again and had it pressed to his leg, but the rush of adrenaline didn’t come. His vision didn’t clear. His breathing didn’t come easier.
Mustering all his fading strength, he tried a third time to depress the button. As he slumped in his seat, feeling unconsciousness tugging him into oblivion, there was a commotion before him. A woman’s voice. Calm and authoritative. Clear. Pressure on his leg, the rush of the medicine flowing through his veins. “You’re okay.” Eddie heard through the white noise in his ears. “My name’s Beatrice. I’ve injected you with your EpiPen. You’re going to be okay.” Eddie tried to reach out for her, and a warm hand closed around his. “I need to know what you’re allergic to.”
“Nuts,” Eddie rasped as loud as he could manage, but his voice was barely a whisper. He sounded like his dad had when they’d spoken last—raw from shouting at the football match his family had gone to see. Eddie had missed all the games. He’d missed their banter, his sister’s overprotectiveness, and his brothers’ boisterousness. Only moments earlier he’d feared going home. Now he feared not being alive long enough that he could get there.
Another commotion. Voices that didn’t register as they should have in Eddie’s fuzzy brain. He concentrated on breathing, but the smell was still there. Roasted peanuts, salty and still warm. They were moreish and delicious but deadly to him. A poison that would kill him nearly as fast as falling under the train he was on would.
“What’s your name, love?” she asked. He blinked open his eyes, his vision clearing enough to make out her features. She was older—around the same age as his mum. Her hair was a sweeping mass of grey-blonde curls surrounding her rounded face, her lips a soft pink that gave her a gentleness. She was a carer, and he innately knew that he was safe with her.
“Eddie.” He tried to move, to sit up on the seat, but her hand kept him steady.
“It’s okay, Eddie. Stay lying down. You won’t get dizzy that way.” She patted his hand and motioned to the seat he now had his legs on. “The man who sat next to you with the peanuts has moved, but the air is still likely contaminated with particles of them. We need to get you off this train at the next station and to a hospital. That was a severe attack.” She waited until he nodded his understanding and continued, “Can I call someone for you? Your parents, a friend?” He reached inside his bag, his trembling fingers closing around his phone. It took two goes for Eddie to unlock it, hitting his mum’s number before Beatrice took the phone from him and spoke to her. She held his hand, her calm seeping into his psyche. She was exactly what he needed in that moment—someone to take control and steer him away from the danger when he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t register much of the conversation, drifting in and out of awareness as she spoke.
The train slowed, and Beatrice returned Eddie’s phone, placing it into his hand and closing his fingers around it. “Your parents are on their way. They’ll meet you at the hospital, love.” Another person reached over and helped him up, wrapping his arm around Eddie’s waist. With the stranger lifting him bodily out of the seat, and Beatrice on his other side holding his bag for him, Eddie stumbled forward and sagged into the man’s strong hold.
He didn’t know how long he’d been out of it for, but the waiting gurney and paramedics surprised him. Eternally grateful, he looked for Beatrice, and she was right there, placing his giant bag between his feet as he was helped onto the trolley. She was explaining his reaction and treatment to the paramedics, talking in medical terms that didn’t really make sense to Eddie in his hazy state. But seeing the professionals standing side by side, he noticed she was dressed in scrubs—pink pants and a top with cartoon characters printed on it. As one of the paramedics listened, with her stethoscope to his chest, the other strapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm. They nodded their thanks, and Beatrice squeezed his free hand. “I’ll check in on you when I get a moment during my shift, but Ford and Anna here will look after you. You get well, Eddie.”
“Thank you,” he choked out, tears forming in his eyes and running down his cheeks. He’d been worried. Scared that even after he’d made himself look as masculine as he could in his wardrobe of pastels and soft knits and fabrics, he’d become a target. Instead, the kindness of strangers had shone through.
*****
His mum told him that the telephone call from his agent had come when he’d been sleeping. The man who’d taken Eddie under his wing halfway through high school had been sending minor gigs Eddie’s way for years, as well as getting him auditions for small parts in West End plays. He hadn’t landed any of the bigger parts he’d auditioned for, but that was mostly because of the rehearsal and performance demands clashing with his schooling. His parents had insisted that he finish his final year, much to Eddie’s frustration, but now that he was done, he’d been sure to tell anyone who’d listen that he was free. He didn’t know what his agent wanted to tell him, but whatever it was, it would have to wait. His mum looked like she’d aged a decade and his dad’s normally chilled vibe was nowhere to be seen. “Dad,” he croaked, his voice still scratchy from the constriction of his throat. He reached out and snagged a hold of his shirt to tug him closer. “I’m okay now.” He smiled, and his dad blew out a breath and leaned down to wrap Eddie in a hug.
“I’ve never been more afraid than when we got that call.” His voice shook, and Eddie squeezed him harder, letting his dad know that even though he’d had a close call, he was still there. Still fighting.
“I’m yet to become a darling of West End, Dad. I’m not going anywhere.” Eddie winked at him and reached for his mum, taking her hand in his. “I was scared too. I thought it was nerves about coming home, but then I couldn’t breathe.”
“Why are you nervous?” His mum sat on the bed next to him and brushed Eddie’s hair back off his face. “It’s no different to any other time.”
Eddie looked down, embarrassed to admit his insecurities. He’d been out and proud at school, but going home, he knew he needed to tone it down. Not because of his parents—they’d joined him in London to march in every Pride Parade since he’d been accepted to RCA. More because of the risk of bumping into old foes. They didn’t run in the same circles anymore. Jess, his childhood friend, had introduced him to her group of girlfriends, and they’d all clicked. Eddie was a ring in, but he talked make-up and boys with them too. He’d been welcomed to every party and eventually the sleepovers too when their parents realized he was no risk to their daughters’ innocence. But now they were legal, and Jess wanted to celebrate by going to a club. One that his brothers had warned him was popular with his old school friends. Eddie stood out. He always had. Even if he toned down his personality and even his clothes, there was no doubt that he was as gay as they came. And in the working-class area of Leeds where they were from, that was not exactly the most acceptable thing to be. But how did he tell his parents that without sounding… like an upper-class snot looking down on them, rather than an insecure teenager who was scared of being beaten again. Either way, his dad would be disappointed that he was even thinking about changing who he was to fit in.
“Jess wants to go out.” He shrugged, trying to play down the fear knotting his stomach up. “Jack told me that the club she’s planning to go to is where all the lads from our old school go. I haven’t exactly been to a club where all the masc straights go, if you know what I mean.”
His mum and dad both frowned. “Honey, are you worried about Duncan and his friends?” When he nodded, his dad sighed, and his mum rubbed her eyes beneath her specs.
His dad spoke, his voice both sad and tired. “Duncan and two of his mates are in jail. Sentenced a few weeks ago. They went to a party and got in a fight. Beat up one of the girls there pretty badly, and when her friend stepped in, they put him in the hospital. They’ve been bad news for a long time, Eddie.”
The news stunned Eddie. Horrified him too. While he’d been in London, living life to the fullest, thriving under the stage lights and eating up the pressure to achieve perfection like it was his morning Weetabix, people he’d once gone to school with—albeit those same boys who’d terrorised him—were landing themselves in jail. Relief that they were off the streets shook him to his core. He may have been acting a little selfish, but knowing he wouldn’t be running into them anytime soon shook the weight off Eddie’s shoulders and let his smile come more genuinely.
