Strokes on a Canvas Page 9

  “Mrs. Grindley, you’ve—”

  “Sandy, don’t.” Evan took a long, deep breath and turned to Mrs. Grindley. “I’ll go, but don’t throw Sandy out. He’s not like that. He’s not like me.”

  “You admit it, then.”

  “I’m admitting nothing, but I’ll go without a fuss. Just don’t involve Sandy. He’s done nothing wrong.”

  When Mrs. Grindley hesitated, Evan hoped she might have a change of heart, but her face hardened once more.

  “He can have until the end of the week, but that’s all. I’ll not have those in my house who consort with degenerates. I have a reputation to maintain. And you, Mr. Calver, I want you out now. Or I will report you to the police, mark my word.”

  “Please don’t, Mrs. Grindley. I’ll go, but don’t do this to Sandy.”

  “Don’t bother yourself, Evan. I’m off. I’ll not stay where you’ve been treated like this.”

  “I’m pleased to hear you’re being reasonable.” Mrs. Grindley strode briskly toward the door. “And Mr. Calver, I want you out of this house before dark.”

  Mrs. Grindley disappeared into the hallway and Evan turned helplessly to Sandy.

  “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe she’s thrown you out like that. What will you do?”

  “Don’t you fret about me. I reckon it’s time I went home to Crieff anyway. I need some clean Scottish air in my lungs. But what about you? Where will you go?”

  “I’ll go to Milo’s for tonight, then… Maybe I’ll go home as well, but God knows what I’d say to my parents.”

  “Evan, you can’t leave Milo. You love him. Damn it, this is so unfair.” Sandy gave the dining table leg an irate kick. “I wish I knew who’d told Mrs. Grindley, so I could give them a bloody good hiding.”

  No sooner were the words out of his mouth than footsteps approached outside and Dennis appeared at the dining room door. At first he looked curious to know what was going on. Then his mouth curled into an unrepentant smirk. Evan shook his head in disbelief, but Sandy’s reaction was more forthright.

  “Dennis, you vicious swine, I’ll have you for this.” Dennis took a startled step back as Sandy launched himself toward him, but Evan grabbed Sandy’s arm.

  “Sandy, leave him. We can’t cause any trouble.”

  “Speak for yourself. I don’t mind a night in the cells for teaching that little shit a lesson.”

  “Sandy, we can’t have him going to the police.” Evan looked imploringly at Sandy. “I can’t have him telling the police.”

  Sandy’s arm slackened beneath Evan’s fingers, and Dennis broke into a smug smile.

  “Too right you can’t. Mrs. Grindley doesn’t want the coppers involved, but if either of you lays one finger on me, I’ll be down the station before the blood’s dried.”

  “There’ll be no need for that.” Evan released Sandy from his grasp. “But why did you do it, Dennis? What have we ever done to you?”

  “Nothing.” Dennis shrugged. “Apart from you being a filthy poof and using me to give your excuses when you’re off with your boyfriend. And don’t deny that’s what he is. There’s only one reason a toff like him would want to spend time with a grocer’s boy, and it’s not to talk about tins of soup. Besides, I’ve seen the little looks he gives you, all soppy like he was your sweetheart. It makes me sick to my stomach, and I’ve had enough. I’ll not live under the same roof as so-called men like you.”

  “Think what you like about me, but Sandy’s not like that. Why would you think he is?”

  “Because I’ve heard pretty boy here coming out of your room at all hours. Don’t tell me you’re just talking in there.”

  “That’s exactly what we’re doing. It’s all in your imagination.”

  “Maybe it is, but I’ll feel a lot safer with both of you out of the house. So the sooner you’re gone the better.”

  With a last scornful sneer, Dennis went out into the hall, and the front door slammed a moment later. Sandy gave the table another hefty kick, rattling the plates already set for breakfast.

  “The spiteful bastard. You should have let me thump him.”

  “You know I couldn’t let you do that. If the police get involved, they’ll find out about me and Milo, and I can’t risk him going to jail. It would kill him. I’ll leave for his sake, but I’m so sorry you have to go too.”

  “Like I said, I reckon it’s time I went home. Mum will be glad to have me back anyway. I’m more worried about you and Milo. What’ll happen if you have to leave London?”

  “I don’t know.” Evan’s stomach clenched at the thought of not seeing Milo every day, of not being able to kiss or make love to him. “I’ll try and see him when I can, but I suppose this was bound to happen sometime. The life we’ve got can’t last forever. We have to live in the real world.”

  “Don’t say that.” Sandy wrapped his arm around Evan. “You’ll work something out, I know you will.”

  Evan wished he could believe Sandy’s words, and that he could stay with his friend a while longer, but his time at Beston House was almost up. He went upstairs and packed his belongings, then trudged to Milo’s with the old leather case he’d brought with him to London three years ago. When he rang the bell to Milo’s flat, Evan was certain his day couldn’t get any worse, and he could have burst into tears when Milo appeared, wearing a raincoat and evidently on his way out.

  “I’m sorry, Milo. I didn’t know you had plans.”

  “It was nothing important. I just thought I’d go to the pub.” Milo looked down at Evan’s case. “What are you doing with that? Are you going to see your parents?”

  “I wish I were. It’s Mrs. Grindley. She’s thrown me out.”

  “Thrown you out? Why?”

  Milo took his case and ushered him inside, but Evan didn’t answer his question until they were safely upstairs in Milo’s flat.

  “She knows about me. She knows that I’m… And she thinks the same of Sandy, the stupid old… Bloody hell, Milo, what am I going to do?”

  “Just calm down.” Milo sat Evan down on the bed. “Now, is Sandy all right? Did she chuck him out too?”

  “He’s got until the end of the week, then he’s off back to Scotland.” Evan slumped miserably against Milo. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t go home and I can’t stay here. I’ll have to go away somewhere, but where on earth can I go?”

  “You’re not going anywhere. You’ll stay here with me while we sort something out.”

  “I can’t do that. What if Mrs. Grindley tells the police? She knows about us, Milo. That bastard Dennis told her. It’s too dangerous for me to stay around here.”

  “I doubt Mrs. Grindley would go to the trouble of reporting us. But if she did, you don’t need to worry.”

  “We could go to jail, Milo. Do you have any idea what that would be like, what they’d do to people like us?”

  “I know exactly what they would do, and it almost makes me ashamed to be English that men are treated so appallingly in this country for simply being different. I would change the law tomorrow if I could, but as it is, I can only take care of myself and those I love. You see, my uncle is a High Court judge with a great deal of influence. He would not allow either of us to be imprisoned, so you have nothing to fear.”

  As Milo folded his arms around him, Evan thought of the man who’d been jailed for immoral acts in Derby. He’d had no rich relations to call upon. He’d probably had no one at all. Evan felt guilty and lucky in equal measure as he nuzzled against Milo’s shoulder, but he knew his problems weren’t over.

  “I can’t stay here forever, though. Even if we managed to stay out of jail, people would start to talk.”

  “I’m sure they would.” Milo eased away with a curious smile. “Look, I’ve been wanting to suggest this for a while, but I haven’t found the right moment. Evan, what would you say to living with me at my family’s house in Sussex? My parents hardly ever go there, so it would practically be our home.”

  “I’d say you
were stark staring mad. Whether it’s London or Sussex, two men can’t live together like that. It’s not possible.”

  “It would be if you were my employee.”

  “I doubt I’d be a very good valet, if that’s what you had in mind.”

  “I was thinking more of an assistant. A secretary, if you like. You would deal with my correspondence and financial affairs. I’ve had more pieces commissioned than I have time for since the prize at the Royal Academy, and I have to give up teaching if I’m to take my art seriously. What’s more, the flat is too small to serve as a proper studio. I hope we’ll buy our own house in time, but for now this seems like the best option.”

  The idea of owning a house with Milo was too fantastic to contemplate, and Evan fixed his thoughts on the current proposal.

  “What about your parents? I know they don’t mind that we’re together, but they wouldn’t let us live in their house.”

  “My dear, they were the ones who suggested it. They hate to see the house empty so much of the time, and they’ve seen how happy you make me.”

  Evan was still amazed that such people as Mr. and Mrs. Halstead existed. His parents had always been good to him, and he helped them out in return, but he couldn’t imagine their reaction if they discovered his relationship with Milo, or when he told them about his new job.

  “What will Mother say when I tell her I’m secretary to a famous artist?”

  “I’m not famous yet, darling, and you’ll only be a secretary some of the time.”

  “And what will I do the rest of the time?” Evan grinned and drew Milo to him. “Will I be providing for your physical needs?”

  “If you like.” Milo chuckled. “But I thought you might like to spend some time in the grounds and give your gardening idea a go. The place could do with a bit of sprucing up, and it would be good practice. You can see if it’s what you really want to do.”

  “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

  “I suppose I have, but they’re only suggestions. If you want to do something different or go somewhere else, I don’t want to force you into anything.” Milo smiled uncertainly. “I only hope that wherever you go, you’ll take me with you.”

  “Milo, I don’t care where we are as long as we’re together. If you want to live in Sussex, we’ll live in Sussex. I’ll go to bloody Australia, if it means I can be with you.”

  Milo laughed and rolled Evan back onto the bed.

  “I think Sussex is far enough for the time being.”

  As they kissed and cuddled, then made love, Evan didn’t dare picture his future with Milo. He couldn’t imagine Milo’s house in Sussex, or the gardens he might be allowed to tend, and as for being Milo’s secretary, taking care of the practicalities of his artistic career, Evan didn’t know if he was capable of such responsibility. But he was more excited by the prospect than he could say, and Evan knew he’d be happy if he was with Milo, wherever they were and whatever life threw in their way.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sussex, April 1925

  “Would you like a drink, Evan?” Milo waved from the terrace that stretched along the side of the house. “I’ve made some lemonade.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute. I want to get these marigolds planted.”

  Evan smiled at the sight of Milo, adorable in his paint-splashed work clothes and sitting in the shade of the old rowan tree. He still couldn’t believe he was living in such a wondrous place, where the country air was fresh and pure and the seaside was only a few miles away. Evan had fallen in love with Southease View the moment he’d seen the Victorian villa, with its ornate gables and tiny turrets like something out of a fairy tale. He’d gazed entranced at his new home, and as sunlight trickled through the trees and honeysuckle had scented the air, he’d envisioned an idyllic future there for himself and Milo.

  The six months that followed had indeed been more sublime than Evan could have wished for, but their new life hadn’t been without its challenges. When they’d first moved to Lewes, Evan’s work as Milo’s secretary had taken an enormous amount of his time. He’d written to Milo’s clients to arrange sittings and payments, ordered paints and canvases from suppliers in London and, most time-consuming of all, helped put his studio in order. Milo had used the old nursery for his art before, but only during holidays, and while the ceiling-high windows made it ideal for painting, it had been in no state to welcome the great and good to sit for their portraits.

  He and Milo had been exhausted by the end of each day, after plastering walls and stripping floors, not to mention making cushions and curtains, but Evan couldn’t have been happier. Falling into Milo’s vast bed at night was like sinking into a heavenly cloud of lavender, where they enjoyed and explored each other’s bodies like never before. And on those nights when they were too tired to make love, Evan lay enfolded in Milo’s arms, floating into the deepest sleep and the sweetest dreams imaginable.

  Of course, their sleeping arrangements weren’t entirely straightforward. Before tiptoeing into Milo’s room, Evan crumpled his bedsheets in order to save the housekeeper’s blushes, even though she almost certainly knew where he slept. Mrs. Bligh had looked after Southease View since Milo could remember, and she did so with the help of a small but loyal—and trustworthy—staff. Mr. Casey tended the garden, young Abraham Kenton did the odd jobs, and Sally the maid had helped, until recently, with the cooking and cleaning.

  Sally was a lively girl, always one for a joke and a gossip, but she’d gone and married a car mechanic from Worthing. Mrs. Bligh had advertised for a new maid and employed another spirited girl named Dora. She’d worked hard and was friendly with the rest of the staff, but when she’d caught him kissing Milo in the summerhouse, Evan had thought she might faint with shock. Mrs. Bligh and the others coughed and turned a blind eye if they walked in at an inappropriate moment, but Dora had been an unexpectedly God-fearing girl, who couldn’t countenance staying in a house where such sinful acts took place.

  She had been very good in the circumstances, only asking for a month’s wages and a decent reference. While she’d promised not to breathe a word of what she’d seen, the household had spent several tense weeks awaiting a knock at the door from a policeman—or worse, a journalist. They’d thankfully heard no more from Dora, who’d secured a position three hundred miles north in Lancashire, but Evan and Milo had decided not to risk appointing another maid. Instead, they both contributed to the daily running of the house. Milo helped with the cleaning and Evan the cooking, and they all muddled along nicely, but it did mean almost every hour of the day was occupied. It was only in the last few weeks that Evan had found time to start work on the garden.

  The grounds of Southease View were relatively modest, but giving them a new lease of life was a tremendous opportunity, and Mr. Casey, who was long past the first flush of youth, was glad of his assistance. Evan had spent several absorbing evenings sketching his horticultural plans, and when he began to put his designs into practice, he’d imagined that must be how Milo felt when he laid the first strokes of paint on a canvas. Almost as exciting was the chance he’d been given to work alongside the head gardener of one of the county’s larger houses, and Evan looked forward to the day each week he’d spend there when summer arrived at last.

  Meanwhile, Milo’s reputation had spread far and wide, his most prestigious appointment being to paint the portrait of a Danish princess. He and Evan were going to Copenhagen in September, and it would be their second long trip together. They’d already journeyed to Scotland that year, having taken a detour to Derbyshire to visit Evan’s parents. His mother had treated Milo like royalty, bringing out the best cups and saucers, but his father had eyed his son’s employer with undisguised suspicion. Evan had been guiltily relieved to say his goodbyes and head north of the border, where they’d seen some magnificent sights, from the tranquil banks of Loch Lomond to the rugged peaks of Skye.

  It had been terrific to see Sandy too, who was much more content in his home t
own of Crieff, where he’d seemed to know almost everyone. Evan couldn’t remember half the people Sandy had introduced them to, but he wouldn’t forget Mabel, the trainee nurse Sandy was courting. She was a lovely girl with long blonde hair and the prettiest laugh, and Evan suspected it wouldn’t be long before a wedding invitation arrived. He only hoped they’d be able to fit the trip into their hectic social calendar.

  Evan had worried Milo might miss his friends when they moved, but his London circle seemed to have followed them out to the country. Bertie and Finlay, Selby and Jacob came to stay for weekends and longer, along with other men and women Evan had never met before. He’d been nervous at first about playing the host, but he had grown to enjoy entertaining and readily joined the conversation, whether a literary discussion at dinner or a scandalous tale over afternoon tea.

  His only anxious moment had been when Milo’s parents came to stay. They’d been delightful when he’d met them in London, but spending two whole days with them had been a different matter. Apart from anything else, he hadn’t been sure what they’d make of his designs for the garden, with the fragrant herb beds and vibrant borders of dahlias and chrysanthemums. Evan also found it hard to forget that the Halsteads knew what he got up to with their son, but they’d seemed quite at ease when they arrived with a hamper of treats from Fortnum & Mason, and had been extremely encouraging about his floral scheme.

  As he planted the last of the marigolds and strolled across the lawn to the house, Evan ran through his plans for the coming days. He had to go shopping in Brighton tomorrow while a baroness came to sit for Milo. The next day was set aside for paperwork and dinner with Jeremy and a new friend of his. Then the day after that…

  Evan realized they had no plans at all for that day. He and Milo could do whatever they pleased. They could go back to bed after breakfast and spend the whole day making love if they liked, and with luck, that was exactly what they would do. For as much as he loved their busy life, filled with work and friends and family, the times Evan adored were those he spent alone with Milo, lying in bed talking and kissing, taking a leisurely walk to the coast, or drinking homemade lemonade on the terrace of their house in the country.