Chapter Text
Howard sat at his desk, doodling vaguely on the blotter. It was a week later, and he was beginning to feel quite worried. He hadn't had any other clients – not even a phone enquiry. Every time the phone rang, he rushed into Mrs Gideon's office, but it always turned out to be a wrong number, or someone selling double glazing. And Mrs Gideon would glare at him. As she demanded to know, what was the point of him hiring her as his secretary if he answered the phone himself?
The problem was, Great-Great Aunt Edith's money was close to running out, and the only reason Howard had even been able to keep going this week is because Saboo had paid for ten weeks in advance. If another client didn't come along soon, he wouldn't have enough money to pay Mrs Gideon next week.
There was a light tap on the door, and when he looked up, Vince's head poked around the door.
“Hi, Dr Moon. It's only me”, he said.
“Vince, what are you doing here?”, asked Howard in surprise.
“Come for my appointment, ain't I?”, Vince said, slipping his thin frame into the room. “Saboo paid for ten sessions, and we've got nine left”.
“Mrs Gideon didn't tell me you were here”, Howard frowned.
“She left a note on her desk saying she just popped out”, Vince explained, throwing himself on the sofa with a casual grace, lying sprawled on his back with one arm supporting his head.
He was wearing skin-tight jeans, a Rolling Stones tee-shirt, and a black leather jacket. Even with the high-heeled boots and pretty made-up face, Howard would have had no problems identifying Vince as a boy, if he had worn this outfit the first day they met. He wished it made a difference to how attractive he found Vince.
“Where's your husband?”, Howard asked, dropping into his armchair, and taking up his so far unused pad and pen.
“We split up”, Vince said airily, examining his nails. They were short, chewed, and painted black.
“Good riddance to bad rubbish”, said Howard with a certain grumpy satisfaction.
“You really don't like Saboo, do you?”, grinned Vince.
“The man's a complete arse”, Howard grouched. “I don't know how you put up with being married to him for a week”.
“He's alright”, shrugged Vince. “You have to know how to get on his good side. And we weren't married for a week. It were more like five days”.
“You weren't paying rent to your landlord, so where are you living now?”, Howard asked in some concern.
“My mate Leroy's letting me sleep on his sofa”, Vince said.
“Mm. That doesn't sound like a long-term solution”, nudged Howard.
“Why did you agree to see me?”, Vince asked, looking searchingly at Howard with his bright blue eyes. “You're a marriage guidance counsellor. I ain't married”.
“You were married”, said Howard with a slight blush, “and I think you may have some unresolved issues from your marriage”.
“Like what?”, asked Vince curiously.
Howard fidgeted with his pen. “I think … you weren't treated very well by your husband. I wonder why you let him talk to you that way, because you didn't deserve it”.
“You're sweet”, Vince said with a smile, turning his face to look at Howard. His tee-shirt rode up over his belly, displaying a trail of thick black hair that disappeared under his belt. Howard imagined following the trail with his fingers, and then shook his head, trying to get the enticing image out of his head.
“I'm not sweet, simply trying to help”, said Howard with dignity.
“You're sweet that you want to help me”, persisted Vince with a radiant smile.
“For example, have you thought about your future?”, Howard said. “How you're going to support yourself?”.
Vince looked wide-eyed at Howard. He seemed far too naive and innocent to take care of himself.
“You've tried being supported by a husband”, Howard pointed out with some humour. “You said you were a terrible wife, remember? So you'll have to learn to support yourself”.
“I was thinking of getting a husband with lower standards”, Vince said. “One that wouldn't care if I was terrible”. He gave Howard a cheeky grin.
Howard let out a reluctant chuckle, remembering that Saboo had said that there were compensations to being married to Vince – that he had certain talents. He coughed a few times, clearing his throat elaborately.
“Perhaps you might consider getting a job of some kind?”, he suggested.
“No skills or experience”, Vince said quickly.
“You could learn”, Howard said, with a determined edge in his voice. “You could study, get qualified, and gradually gain the necessary experience through an apprenticeship or employment scheme”.
“Look, Dr Moon”, Vince said. “You've got the wrong idea about me. I'm well thick. I didn't even do my GCSEs”.
“The GCSEs aren't that important”, said Howard. “There are many other paths to education. Surely there's something you're interested in?”.
Vince thought for a moment, before replying, “I like watching Colobus the Crab. It's my favourite show of all time”.
“Your ex-husband said you spent all day doing your hair. Could you train in hairdressing?”.
“Yeah!”, said Vince enthusiastically. “I'd be a genius hairdresser, Dr Moon”.
“Well, that's great”, Howard said encouragingly. “They teach hairdressing in a ten-week course at Hoxton Polytechnic. Let's apply now”.
“There's something else”, Vince said slowly. “I always wanted to be an artist. Since I was a kid. But that sounds like something only clever people can do”.
“You can be an artist, Vince”, Howard said. “We'll apply for you to go to the Shoreditch School of the Arts. It's a one year certificate, starting next September. But I think the hairdressing course is still a good idea. Artists need a back-up career until they can get established”.
Howard filled out the forms for Vince, and sent Mrs Gideon to post them.
“Won't all these courses cost money, Dr Moon?”, Vince asked worriedly. “I can't afford them”.
“As you didn't finish school, the government has to pay for your education”, Howard said, zealously grabbing another form. “I'll make sure they understand this is the equivalent of you doing fifth form”.
“Even though I'm already … um, nineteen?”, said Vince in disbelief. “Er, and a half?”.
“Yes, that's right”, said Howard, diligently writing.
“That's genius. Dr Moon, nobody's ever been this nice to me”, Vince said, getting up and hugging Howard.
“Don't touch me”, Howard said, ashamed of how his body had reacted to Vince's embrace. “Er, it's unprofessional. I could be struck off for having inappropriate relationships with a client”.
“Stupid rules”, said Vince, rolling his eyes. “Hey Dr Moon, where's a good place to meet a husband? Where did you meet your wife?”.
“I don't think that's relevant”, Howard said austerely.
“Oh, go on”, coaxed Vince.
“We lived in opposite flats”, Howard said, relenting. “One day I was trying to hang up a lantern on my balcony, and I fell off. Kate, that's my wife, was the one who found me, and took me to hospital. She's a nurse, you see”.
“That's well romantic”, pronounced Vince. “Maybe I can meet a husband where I live by helping him with his terrible hair. Yours is a bit of a mess, actually”.
Vince began running his fingers through Howard's admittedly rather scruffy hair.
“That's enough, Vince”, warned Howard.
“It's really fine”, pronounced Vince. “Like touching brown smoke. You could use a root booster to give it more volume”.
“How would you like it if I started touching your hair?”, Howard said crossly, reaching up and twisting his fingers into Vince's dark locks. It was softer than Howard had expected, and he buried his hand into the silky shag cut without thinking.
“I don't like having my hair touched!”, said Vince in a panic, pulling away. “I spent hours this morning getting my barnet just right, and I don't need your big northern mitts making a mess of it!”.
“Calm down”, Howard said, alarmed at how quickly things had changed.
“I'll fight you like a Cockney bitch”, Vince shouted, putting up his fists like a boxer. “I'm a ragamuffin from the streets, I am”.
“I'll come at you like a northern bullet”, Howard said angrily. “You'll be taken out for a meal by Mr and Mrs Pain. Order you up a violent quiche”. He brandished his hands, kung-fu style.
In a moment, both men were struggling against each other. Howard was using his superior height to force Vince into a wrestling hold, while Vince made ineffectual slaps against Howard's belly. Howard tried to make Vince sit on the sofa and calm down while he held him tightly, but somehow he ended up almost lying on top of Vince, pressing down on his shoulders to hold him in place.
Their groins were notched together, and Howard was horrified to realise he was hard and rubbing against Vince with fervent need. Vince had stopped struggling, and was looking at Howard in sleepy surprise.
“Wow, you're really big and strong, Dr Moon”, he said admiringly.
At that moment, Howard heard the click of the door opening, and the shocked gasp that prefaces someone saying something like, What is the meaning of this?
Howard quickly swung himself off the sofa, and addressed Vince.
“So, if you continue doing the exercises as I've demonstrated, I think you'll soon find that the results pay off”, he said glibly. “Ah, hello Mrs Gideon. To what do we owe the pleasure of your unannounced visit?”.
“I came to tell you I'm putting in my notice”, she said crisply. “As of this minute, I no longer work for you, and have sought other employment. Tomorrow I start as Head of Reptiles at The Zooniverse”.
“My old landlord Naboo has a kiosk there”, Vince butted in cheerily. “You should look him up”.
“I shall miss you, Mrs Gideon”, said Howard formally. “I only wish you had given me time to find a new secretary”.
“I do your banking – you don't have enough money for a new secretary”, Mrs Gideon informed him.
“Ha ha ha, that's the wonderful sense of humour I shall miss, Mrs Gideon”, Howard said. “You and your extremely funny jokes”.
“It's not a joke”, Mrs Gideon protested, as Howard firmly steered her out of his office with a hand in the middle of her back.
“Good luck with your new career, Mrs Gideon”, Howard said, as he countersigned all the paperwork necessary to let her go. “I hope you remember me fondly”.
“I doubt I'll remember you at all”, Mrs Gideon replied, picking up her bag and her coat, and walking out of his office and life.
By the time Howard got back to his office, it was empty. Vince had apparently left by the back stairs. He would probably never see Vince again, either, Howard told himself, after the stupid fight they had had. He felt unaccountably lonely and depressed, as if he'd lost a good friend, yet he barely knew Vince, and from what he did know, he and Vince had little in common, and didn't seem suited to each other.
He slowly walked home, remembering to post Vince's application for government funding on his way, and taking care of one or two other tasks at the shops while he was there.
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Howard stood in the hallway of his flat, reading his mail. There seemed to be an alarming number of bills, and no money to pay them with. There was no getting around it – he would have to look for a job.
The front door was open in the spring warmth, and he could see Kate walk up the path to the flat. She was smiling to herself, carrying a bouquet of flowers tied with pink ribbon.
“Oh, hello Howard”, Kate said as she came in. “Any mail for me?”.
“Just these two”, said Howard, passing over her mail. “Had a nice day, Kate?”.
“Yes, thanks”, Kate said. “Look – someone sent me flowers at work!”. She held out her bouquet.
“Well, young ladies like flowers”, said Howard.
“This one does, anyway”, said Kate with a smile, and opened her front door with a key.
She started looking for something to put the flowers in, and finally settled on a very large pickle jar, her vases all turning out to be far too flimsy and delicate for this riot of blossom. She looked at the card. It was signed, Your secret admirer, and the card had been filled out by the florist, so the handwriting wasn't a clue. Tomorrow she would call in at the florist and find out if they remembered who had ordered the flowers.
Could it be the handsome new doctor that everyone had a crush on? She scolded herself for being so silly, and desperately hoped it wasn't the creepy old cleaner who kept staring at her legs while he pushed a mop around. Maybe it was a friend, just trying to cheer her up, or have a laugh. Whoever it was, and whatever their motive, they had brightened her day.
Howard went to his own flat, pleased to see that Kate was genuinely happy with the flowers. She'd seemed so miserable when she got home from work last week, and he was sure that husbands were meant to buy their wives flowers when they were having a hard time. Happy wife, happy life, and Howard thought life did seem a bit rosier, knowing that Kate was happy.
****************************************
That night, Howard wondered if Kate was in the mood for making love. Not that he would expect it after the flowers, he just wondered. She left the lamp on after going to bed, which seemed like a good sign, and then she gave out a few other unmistakable signs, such as wearing a particular nightgown and putting on a certain piece of music on the stereo. A husband notices these things.
Emboldened, Howard lay down next to Kate, on her right side. This side was far colder and less comfortable than where she was, but Howard thought a man should be a gentleman about these things and endure a little discomfort. Besides, he made sure he was under the blanket.
He could hear the soft noises she made through the music, and he quietly joined her. The only trouble was, images of Vince kept coming into his mind. Here he was, in bed with his wife, making love with her, and he was actually thinking about Vince. His innocent eyes, his sunny smile, the way he'd said, “You're sweet”.
What was wrong with him? And then, that silly fight. Except that he had rather liked seeing Vince get angry, even over something silly. His eyes had become even bluer and deeper, his cheeks had turned red, he could see that Vince was capable of real passion, real feeling. And then, oh God, he had ended up on top of Vince, virtually rutting him on the sofa. And Vince had just let it happen, had even seemed to enjoy it.
That was it. He wasn't going to be able to last, thinking about Vince's firm thighs between his, the little strip of white belly between his tee shirt and his jeans, his red painted lips, open and moist as Howard held him down and rubbed against him. Oh fuck, the little vixen. He was going to come thinking about Vince, right next to his wife, oh God, oh yes, the little titbox … oh fuck he'd gone wrong.
He let out a groan of pleasure, and then the music suddenly shut up off with a click, and Kate opened the curtains wider to look onto the balcony. And then she screamed, and screamed again. The screaming went on and on, until Howard thought it would never stop.
It was hard to think with all the noise, but Howard had a strong feeling that his marriage to Kate might be over. And much deeper down, a cold suspicion slowly grew that she had never been his wife at all.