Fireside Romance Box Set

Chapter 3-4

Monday morning I unlocked and then relocked the door to Non-Fiction after me. We had half an hour before letting in the public. The children’s section opened at half past eight to allow the little darlings to change their books on the way to school.

Spotting Mary, I put my hand over my mouth, let out a high-pitched squeak, fell against the wall and said “My god, I’m in shock.”

“Daft bugger,” she replied. “I’ve been early before, you know.”

“I can’t remember the last time.” And to be honest I couldn’t. “Whatever could have caused this hitherto unforeseen event in the space-time continuum?” I’d just finished reading a science-fiction novel.

I was expecting a ‘daft sod’ or an eye roll. But instead I got a smile. I don’t think I’d ever seen Mary smile so widely before. “He’s called Jerry.”

I didn’t need to ask, but I thought I’d play dumb anyway. “Who is, the new milkman?”

“No, silly, the man we met at McDonald’s.”

“Oh!” I couldn’t really find anything else to say.

Not surprisingly, Mary didn’t have the same problem. The rest of the day—readers permitting—I got the full history of this god in human form. Apparently he was a post-graduate history student at York University. He lived in a flat with two other students close to campus during the week, and came home to visit his parents most weekends.

When Mary finally wound down, I asked, “So, he’s the one then?”

The smile went up a few watts, and she nodded. Then her face fell a little.

“What? Is he married or something?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” She shook her head. “Because he’s away all week, I can only get to see him at weekends.”

I was ahead of her. I’d worked it out earlier when she told me what his living arrangements were. “It’s okay. You need to be with him as much as you can, I understand. We’ll put our Friday nights on hold for a bit.” If the relationship was going where she hoped it was, we wouldn’t be having any more Friday nights out for a long time, if at all.

“You don’t mind?”

“Silly girl, of course I don’t mind.” I did, but I’d rather die than have her know this.

Mary was my only social contact—save for my occasional meetings with Mark—but she had as much right to happiness as anyone else. I’d really enjoyed getting out and about with someone for a change, but…putting my own feelings aside I could see Mary liked this guy a lot, and she needed time with him.

“You’re such a sweetie,” she said, kissing me on the cheek.

“Just don’t forget to invite me to the wedding, you hear?”

“I won’t.”

I was half expecting her to make a joke of my last comment. The fact she didn’t probably meant she was serious about Jerry. Most of me hoped it would work out for them.

Anyway, as I said earlier, the town was gearing up for Christmas. I’d bought the few presents I needed to. I posted off the ones to my parents in Birmingham. They’d moved down there a few years ago because Dad got a promotion, and after I’d finished university in Leeds I applied for and got the job at the library, so I stayed in the home town.

I had muddled along since my second meeting with Mark. I would take a walk down to Gamble Street once every couple of weeks or so. Usually he was there. If he wasn’t, I’d carry on home and try again the next day.

Our times together—I wanted to call them dates, but was strangely reluctant to do so—followed the same path each time. I’d feed him, we’d touch and kiss for a bit, then we’d go into the living room and cuddle for a while on the couch. When the time came for him to leave, he would offer to stay later. I would tell him I really wanted him to stay, yet knew he had to get going, and he would thank me for being so understanding.

During our times together Mark had begun opening up to me. He told me a little about his family background. It seemed his father was a brute. Things had been tolerable while his mother was living, but when she’d died of breast cancer, his father had hit the bottle…hard.

Up until this point I hadn’t even been sure if Mark was gay. I realised he wasn’t selling himself by choice, but some men have so few options that, despite being straight, they had to sell their bodies for s*x in order to survive.

I suspected Mark hadn’t told me the whole story about his family situation. It had been enough to start the waterworks in both of us though. I clung on so tight to him that evening, offering him what little comfort I could.

Another time he told me something about how he got into the business of selling himself. It wasn’t a pretty story. He did say he was able to crash at—for want of a better word—his pimp’s house. I grew so angry at the news of how Jake, the pimp, took half Mark’s money in exchange for keeping Mark safe on the streets.

“Couldn’t you just give him a bit less, and keep more for yourself?” I’d asked.

“No; John, another of Jake’s boys, tried that. He was in hospital for over a month…”

I really wanted to get Mark out of his situation. I offered to help him. But it seemed as though Jake had a pretty tight rein on things, and I, too, could end up being hurt. I didn’t see what I could do: I’m not—to my shame—very brave.