Not Something For Us

Johnny clambered down the drainpipe, gripping it for dear life as the rough clay surface tore at his hands, the red bricks scraping the skin from his knees below his trousers. This was not how he had planned on spending his Valentine’s Day getaway, but since when did his plans ever work out for him? He had no time to take this descent from the open window of the hotel room with care. They only had seconds. The echo of running footsteps in the alley below distracted him from his task of escaping, whilst avoiding a painful fall. Charlie had left him behind but only because Johnny had told him to. This had been their emergency plan for a situation like this. They had always been lucky before, but the coppers were in the building. Maybe the police received a tip off? Or were Charlie and him getting careless? They had given fake names of course, but what if they missed something else? The weak wooden door to their cheap room rattled. Johnny knew that if he did not get down the pipe and out of sight, before they inevitably broke it down, that he’d be done for.

Johnny peered down into the darkness below. The fog made it hard to estimate how much further he had to climb. He could just make out the grey silhouette of a huge crane towering over the buildings at Plymouth docks. The fog was always worst here, rolling up the River Tamar from the English Channel out to sea. He had spent many nights in the area several years before, when on leave during the war. It was always easy to find company amongst the sailors and the dock labourers, and he continued to visit after 1918 brought about the end of those years of fighting.

‘Open up!’ The impatient bangs on the door accompanied by the shouts of the police officers grew louder. ‘Forget it, break it down!’ Johnny now knew how a rabbit felt when cornered by a pack of dogs. His legs shook, his hands fumbled on the pipe that served as his only lifeline. The chilling air bit at his face, gnawed at his fingers, his heart raced nineteen to the dozen as he tasted the sickening bile in his throat. The consequences should he be caught were enough to spur him onwards as a wave of heat flushed through him. He had to vanish into the night. He jolted with fear as another loud bang on the door shook the window frame above him. He wouldn’t make it in time if he carried on like this and so, with one last look at the window above, Johnny jumped.

***

Johnny thanked Charlie in his mind that he’d thrust his coat and hat into his hands before they made their escape. For one thing it was freezing, quite literally he reckoned. Also, hidden under his long overcoat and wide brimmed hat, he remained anonymous. He reckoned they had got away just in time but dared not look behind him in case he was wrong. ‘Just keep walking, don’t run. Look normal,’ Johnny mumbled to himself as his leg muscles tightened with the urge to run. He made it to the main street, void of people at this hour apart from a young couple, who passed him arm in arm, the woman giggling as the man whispered some term of endearment in her ear. Johnny clenched his teeth. The war over a decade ago had given people a desire to live with more freedom, and therefore open displays of affection had become more common. But not for people like him. No, people preferred it if they didn’t exist. Johnny pulled up the collar of his coat further, a drop of sweat falling onto his shirt, despite the chill in the air. As he turned into another street, taking the quickest route to the train station, he risked a glance behind him. Nothing. He hoped Charlie had the same lack of company too as he headed back towards the docks.

***

It wasn’t far now, despite his efforts to blend in, he must have been walking at a frantic pace to have covered a couple of miles on foot in this time. Heavy boots heading his way stopped him in his tracks. Appearing from the gloom, illuminated only by a single streetlamp, two patrolling police officers approached. Johnny’s heart tripped, his eyes darting all over his surroundings looking for an escape route, or some place to hide. Perhaps he didn’t need to? They never saw his or Charlie’s faces. Could he be sure? He knew the cost of a mistake. Prison at best, at worst… his breath shuddered at the thought. He darted into a shop doorway and fumbled in his pocket for a lighter and a cigarette, his hands shaking so much it took him several attempts to strike a flame. He waited; cigarette gripped in his fingers as it brushed his lips. Each breath took an eternity to leave his body. His neck strained with desire to peer around the corner of the wall, but he stayed pinned to the spot. Only when the police officers passed him by without a second glance, did he dare to breathe again.

It was now, the immediate danger having passed, that he noticed the bright blooms of various shades of reds and pinks on display as part of an elaborate arrangement in the window behind him. Johnny bit the inside of his cheek and exhaled slowly, his hand clenching around his lighter. ‘Of course, a florist. Oh, and look, they’ve even decorated the window with hearts.’ He rolled his eyes before turning his back and stepping out onto the street once more, his mind searching for any other thought. He didn’t see the point in giving flowers as a gift. Sure, they looked pretty for a few days, but they fade, curl and shrivel at the petals, wither from green to brown in the leaves. What started as something beautiful, always ends up fading into ugliness no matter how much care they receive. Flowers were part of the reason for his visit to meet with Charlie tonight. He had sent him a note using words only Charlie would understand, telling him he had to get away from all the unbridled joy of the upcoming Valentine’s Day celebrations. It was hard to escape working in a big house full of valets, footmen, maids and cooks, who all for some unknown reason act completely irrational on the days leading up to February 14^th. Johnny’s job at Longbrook House, a grand English country estate in the heart of the Devonshire countryside, had been his for about a decade and a half, give or take the few years he spent in France fighting for king and country. He had started as a footman and had recently been promoted to valet. It was ideal for him. No one expected him to be married, no one questioned why he was not, most people working in service weren’t. But being surrounded by young women and men who acted like dogs under a full moon on a few days each year, having to put up with the constant giggles and whispers, the secrets, the gifts, the silly little pink heart shaped cards decorated in ribbon…he sometimes wished he had chosen another occupation. That was not to say Johnny didn’t want to feel the giddy joy of romance, he longed for it more than anything. Charlie had made him feel the closest he could imagine to feeling loved. They had been seeing each other every so often, whenever they could get away from their work, for about five months now. If he was more of a fool then he would send him a card, but that would mean asking for trouble. No, an evening, or even a few hours tucked away in a shady hotel in the rougher part of Plymouth, was the best either of them could hope for.

***

A day and a half had passed by the time Valentine’s Day morning came around with as much subtlety as a flirtatious male peacock, displaying his bright array of blue and green feathers to potential mates. Johnny sat where he always did, in the far corner of the large wooden table in the servants’ hall downstairs, in the drabber parts of Longbrook House reserved for them. He smoothed his neat combed blonde hair with one long slow stroke of his hand, as he yawned with disinterest at the newspaper, propped up on the edge of the table that he pretended to read. The scullery maid, Molly, who had been working alongside him at Longbrook House for almost two years now, giggled as one of the footmen, Paul, smiled at her from across the table as they ate their breakfast. Paul, who’s innocence showed his youthful age, seemed to be liked by everyone else. Johnny didn’t see why. ‘Don’t get your hopes up Molly, he isn’t interested in you,’ Johnny grumbled, gluing his eyes to the newspaper.

‘I might be Mr Pascoe,’ Paul retorted whilst looking down at his plate of half eaten buttered toast.

‘Leave him alone Mr Pascoe, no need for your sour mood on such a day like this,’ Mrs Perkins, the housekeeper, scolded him. Mrs Perkins was technically in charge of the female servants, with the men answering to the house’s butler Mr Hayes, but her formidable personality put them all in their place, most of the time.

Johnny tried to ignore them, but once he started, he found it hard to stop. ‘What day might that be? Its only another Monday Mrs Perkins.’

‘Valentine’s Day of course!’ Molly gleamed with her uncontainable excitement.

‘Right, well it makes no difference to me.’ He pulled the newspaper up to hide his face, and the sinking feeling in his heart that he was trying not to show.

‘The postman will be here any minute—’

‘Morning post, Mr Hayes,’ the young hall boy, James announced handing a larger than usual pile of envelopes to the butler.

‘Thank you, James,’ Mr Hayes creased his brow, which caused his grey eyebrows to almost meet each other in the middle, as he flicked through the envelopes, putting any aside that were to do with the running of the house. ‘Hmm, more than usual. Pass them around would you Mrs Perkins?’

Johnny tried to shut out the whispers of anticipation from around the table, and the squeal of delight coming from Molly as she was handed two envelopes. ‘Look I’ve got two! One will be from my mum; she always sends one but who is the other from?’

Johnny folded down the top of his newspaper, ‘Well most likely it is from your grandmother if the other is from your mother.’ Molly’s smile fell and Johnny at once regretted his unnecessarily harsh words. He couldn’t help it though because no matter how hard he tried, all he could do was feel worried. He had managed to escape on Saturday night, and he reckoned that if the police were going to come for him, they would have done so by now. But what of Charlie? All this joyful emotion around him, every smile of delight drove the knife of jealousy deeper into his heart. They had it so easy, a little harmless flirtation between a footman and a maid gave them nothing to fear. It wasn’t a move either of them had to calculate the risk of. Johnny didn’t mind that he received nothing as all he wanted now, as his foot tapped on the floor whilst his mouth parched with worry, was to know Charlie was safe. He didn’t care for a silly card that would be thrown away a few days later, or chocolates that would be consumed and forgotten about not long after. All he wanted was one sentence, or even just a couple of words to know Charlie was okay. He wanted to love and be loved, but he had given in to the fact long ago that anything on the scale of typical Valentine’s Day celebrations was no more than a fairy-tale for him and Charlie. They had to make do with their hidden lives. It was the best he would ever get and pushing for more would throw them headfirst into ruin.

‘Mr Pascoe. Are you still with us? You look miles away,’ Mrs Perkins asked as she raised an eyebrow.

Johnny looked at her baffled for a moment. ‘What?’

‘This is for you.’ She handed him a thin envelope with a sympathetic smile.

‘Ah. Right. Thank you.’ Johnny took the envelope unable to look her in the eye.

‘Oh, who’s that from Mr Pascoe?’ Molly chirped.

‘None of your business.’ Johnny turned the envelope over, looking for signs to show it might have been tampered with.

‘You got a sweetheart as well?’ she persisted.

‘Sorry to disappoint you, just from my father, that’s all.’ Johnny stood up and pushed his chair in.

‘Where do you think you’re going Mr Pascoe?’ Mr Hayes narrowed his eyes at him. ‘We’ve not got long until you’ll be needed upstairs with his Lordship.’

‘Don’t trouble yourself Mr Hayes. My father never has much to say, I’ll only be a couple of minutes. I can’t concentrate down here.’

Johnny left before anyone could delay him further. He bolted up the many flights of stairs, taking them two at a time, to the top of the house and the narrow plain corridors belonging to the male servants’ quarters. He pushed open the door to his room and slammed it shut in his impatience to get at the contents of the envelope. He ripped the top with his finger, tearing it with no grace. Shards of paper fluttered to the ground in his haste. It had been an easy lie to tell them all. This was never from his father. He hadn’t spoken to any member of his family since he left home when he was just fifteen. The last words he had heard from his father had been ones of scorn and shame as he tossed his few belongings out into the mud, with as much care as one would throw away a load of rubbish onto a tip. This letter, he hoped, was the news he had been yearning for over the past day or so. His eyes skimmed over the words, over an over so he was sure he read them right.

Had to scarper from the lilly, but the weather is fine, I’m glad to say. How’s the weather at your end?

‘Thank you. Oh, thank you.’ Johnny said to no one in particular, his words mixed in with a shaking exhale as he sunk to the floor and collapsed back against the side of his bed. A small smile of relief covered his lips, the first real smile he’d felt since he had kissed Charlie on Saturday not long after arriving in their little hotel room. The words wouldn’t mean much to anyone else and that was the point. It was an idea Charlie had once, that they communicate with questions about the weather. Everyone always talked about the weather, but no one really paid any attention to those sorts of conversations. They had agreed that fine weather showed all was well, and storms meant the opposite. Johnny pushed himself up on his hands and reached for a small draw in the tiny table next to his bed, rummaging until he found paper and ink. His reply couldn’t wait. He knew Charlie would feel the same anguish he had felt today. He would write it down now and send it later after the fuss from all the cards and gifts received by all except him, had died down.

Good to know. All sunshine and blue skies here.

Johnny folded the note, pushed it into an envelope, and slipped it into the inner pocket of his uniform. He should be allowed to enjoy today, but at least with this news he could breathe again.