Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Anthony isn’t sure who’s idea it was to allocate him the bedroom the furthest away from the rest of the house as a child, but he’s been cursing them from beyond their graves most of the morning.

Now on his 7^th trip from his car (which still has a boot and passenger seat full of boxes and bags) he’s growing increasing frustrated by the sight of sparsely decorate walls, crumbling plaster, and threadbare carpets with each trip up the stairs. Had it been this bad while they’d been growing up? Maybe it had, and Anthony hadn’t noticed. Or, maybe the shabby chic look was Button House’s charm these days he considers while eyeing up another hole in the plaster.

Surprisingly his old bedroom isn’t too bad. Stephanie has obviously been in and cleared the place up before his arrival. They’d removed the wooden four poster bed though, which saddens him a little. He liked that bed. He liked that as a child he could close the curtains and block out the world for a little while as much as he pleased. From all accounts its current whereabouts is unknown, Stephanie had mumbled someone about wood worm, which he knew was a damn lie the moment the words left her mouth.

Anthony rather suspects it’s sat pride of place in his brother Thomas’ room.

(Thomas had always been a jealous child growing up and the inequalities in bed allocation - his was a single brass framed effort - had been his focus for much of his childhood.)

Still, at least Anthony has a bed and somewhere to stay. He’s very aware many in his position don’t, some end up in flat shares or spare bedrooms god forbid. One of his friends had ended up in someone’s garage after his divorce. When Anthony had visited, he had been shocked to see his friend slept with the family car.

So, yes, he was lucky in that sense he supposed. But then not many 42-year-old divorcees had privilege of a 200-year-old ancestral home, cult WW2 horror film set, a museum, onsite café, deer park and over 500 acres plus of land to fall back on either.

Most he knew didn’t anyway.

None of that matters now though Anthony thinks as he drags ‘Mick’ his medical skeleton along the 1^st floor corridor for what feels like the hundredth time. Button House, and everything it stands for may frustrate him to the point of annoyance more often than it should, but it’s the only blasted thing he’s got at this point.

That and Mick, anyway.

“So, you’re finally back then?” A voice suddenly says, stopping Anthony in his tracks. The tone of the voice is neither a sneer nor a smirk. Instead, it is something in between that echoes down the corridor after him. The crumbling walls and bare floorboards of Button House may do nothing to help the acoustics of the damn place, but Anthony doesn’t need to turn around to identify who the voice belongs too.

He hasn’t needed to for over 30 years.

Of course Julian has found him. Of course. It was only a matter of time before Anthony’s father’s solicitor – accountant – ex MP ‘best friend’ found him.

Anthony just hadn’t expected it to be so quickly.

“Good afternoon, Julian, and yes, apparently, I am back. Arrived early this morning, I’ve been with Fanny at the stables most of the morning,” Anthony answers, turning around to face the man and steel himself for whatever Julian wants to discuss with him.  

“You don’t sound so pleased about being back. London not all it’s cracked up to be? Not metrosexual enough for you…” Julian goes onto ask, another smirk crossing his face. “Also, do you really need to refer to your sister with that childish name?”

This time its Anthony who smirks. He ignores the metrosexual comment because what the fuck? “Absolutely, she’s always been Fanny Button to us, the joke writes itself Julian. But that wasn’t what you originally asked, London was perfectly fine. It never sleeps. Did my best work there. Fabulous city. Some of its resident’s, less so.”

“Heard about that, bloody awful situation, nothing is sacred these days, is it?”

“Didn’t you cheat on your wife multiple times?” Anthony snaps back – it’s a cheap dig, he knows it is. Julian doesn’t deserve to be the recipient of his bad mood (not yet anyway), but Anthony just can’t seem to keep it in check around the guy. Never has been able to.

“Repeatedly. Pot, kettle and all that, but still.”

At least the man was honest.

“Did you want something Julian?”

“We need to talk.”

“Who?”

“The four of us, and what on earth is that?”

Obviously not content with bellowing down the hallway at Anthony, Julian has followed Anthony to the door of his bedroom, and is now staring apprehensively at Mick, the full-size male medical skeleton. 

“This? This is Mick.” Anthony replies casually, pointing to the figure and giving it a tap on the shoulder.

“Mick?! It’s a bloody skeleton.”

“I’m a doctor. We tend to refer to these every now and again, and this here is Mick. We’ve been through a lot me and Mick. Oddly attached to him for some reason, has his own back story, plague victim, syphilis, liked the ladies.”

“Riiiight. Is it real?”

“Goodness no – wouldn’t that be a story. Can you imagine?” Anthony said with a slight maniacal chuckle. “No, resin, I think. Anyway, you said you wanted to talk to the three of us. Can it not wait considering I have only just set back in the county?”

“Arh, yes, and no. Stipulation of your Father’s will.”

Dear god. “Father died over four years ago, big meeting in London about it, funeral, you invited the Queen if I remember rightly, but she never came, all sorted.”

“Well, yes, your father added a stipulation to his will,” Julian says, arms now behind his back. The posture briefly reminds Anthony of his father for some reason. Pinched expression. Shoulders up. Straight back. Don’t slouch boy. “If you returned to Button House and the three of you began to live under the same roof again it was to be actioned.”

“Okay…”

“The peerage.”

Anthony frowns. “Not interested. Don’t want it – Father wouldn’t have wanted me to have it anyway, you know that. I wasn’t his favourite – I’m sure you were then when he told me – repeatedly. It’s Fanny’s. It’s always and quite rightly been hers.”

“Well, not necessarily,” Julian answers calmly like he has been expecting this part of the conversation. Without asking, he then steps over the threshold and into the room Anthony has spent the morning filling with boxes and bags. “Due to your mother’s decision never to confirm the birth order, we are at a bit of an impasse.”

Anthony sighs. “All this bollocks again Julian? Really?”

“Hmm well, yes. But as it stands the lineage is first male born and as we can’t confirm who that is out of you and Thomas then…”

“Julian!” Anthony is aware that he sounds rude and standoffish but bugger it all to hell. He couldn’t give a shit about inheritances and peerages. Yet somehow, he knew this was going to come up at some point, because of course it was. Lord of the Manor. Hereditary titles. The House of Lords… Closing his eyes, Anthony takes a deep breath, “maybe we could talk later, yes?” he says quietly, his voice a little shaky. “Let me sort out some more my stuff then we’ll gather Fanny and Thomas up and we will talk. Just give me a moment.”

For once (and after a pause) Julian seems to take the hint. “Later then,” he says his face scrunched up like he is chewing a wasp. He doesn’t look happy, but Julian can shove it, Anthony thinks. “I think the others are glad you are back at Button House. Stephanie especially. She has been worried about you since… since the breakup.” Julian continues.

“Okay.” Fanny had said as much when they had spoken in the stables earlier. He’s yet to bump to Thomas. Anthony suspects his brother is performing somewhere for a tour group, re-enacting a scene from the horror film, or trying to regale them with some poetry.

That being said, it’s good to know at least one person is pleased he is back. The fact that Anthony has had no choice in the matter is another thing. Regardless of one’s ancestral country pile, London rental prices are famously astronomical and although he wasn’t on a bad salary at the last surgery he worked at, paying over 3k per month for a small attic room and a shared bathroom was pushing it a bit far, even for him.

“It made sense, given the situation I found myself in,” Anthony acquiesces, daring himself not to spiral into a ‘oh woe me’ thought process – something that’s rather felt rather like a default setting with him these past few years.

“Later than,” Julian says as he takes a backwards step over the threshold onto the landing, not before eyeing Mick up warily. “Maybe we could meet after dinner.”

This time Anthony doesn’t reply and closes the door behind Julian without even a nod.

With Mick safely in the corner of the room - hands on hips, Anthony swings the rucksack off his shoulders and does what any self-respecting man his age does and flops himself down onto the replacement bed. It’s not a fourposter, that’s for sure, but it’s not too soft either. At least it’s not dusty or looks unkempt which is a bonus.

The bedroom hasn’t changed much, not really - it certainly looks bigger and lighter without the fourposter, come to think of it - still smells the same though, not musty or unpleasant, but familiar.

If he remembers rightly, the three of them had caused chaos in this room – a hidden benefit of it being so far away from the rest of the house. To his left he can still see a series of holes peppering the wall from the where the dartboard had hung, and the crack in one of the windowsills when his foot had gone through the wood. The floorboards apparently still creak in the same spots, just by the door and near the large wooden wardrobe and the ensuite bathroom he has his Victorian ancestors to thank for installing is still a lurid pink colour.

It all feels rather familiar and yet new at the same time.

It certainly isn’t a whitewashed wall flat with chrome fittings and a lovely, patterned wing backed chair that he had bought from Next in the sale. Come to think of it, there’s probably nothing bought from the Next sale in the whole of Button House and heaven forbid anything from Ikea.

Anthony spends the rest of the day making more trips back and forth to his car and adding to the worn grooves in the floorboards along the 1^st floor corridor while ruminating about the fact he is living back at home.

Maybe he should have stayed in London he considers not for the first time that day. He could have taken the hit on the rental prices for a short period of time, done the singles scene for bit, found himself a bit of ‘fun’. A random and regular no-strings attached shag somewhere with someone half his age called Callum or Alfie would have taken the sting out things for a bit he supposes.

Anthony then remembers – like he always does – he’s 42, a GP, single and these days can’t get through the night without a visit to the toilet.

When Anthony finally bumps into and disturbs Thomas, he is conducting visitor tours much to man’s annoyance. Under the guise of rearranging a box of his belongings, Anthony had stood and listened for a while – it was rather informative if he was being honest given Thomas’ pendant for the dramatic. The film and TV industry, WW2 residents, murders, the middle ages where all covered and he can’t help but give Thomas a nod of sly approval at the purple Button House ‘official guide’ t-shirt he is sporting as he leads the visitors towards the gift shop.

“Looking good, brother mine,” Anthony tells him with a wide smile. “Purple suits you.”

“Damn your eyes brother, damn your damn eyes.”

At some point Anthony remembers he is a human male and needs to eat. He’s not the greatest cook in the world, his ex-husband rather controlled that side of the relationship in all honesty. Not controlled no, Anthony assures himself as he makes his way to Button House’s new onsite café, it was more that Graham was better at it and so Anthony had learnt to pick his battles.

Once inside the café he finds himself being served a homemade lasagne by someone called Mary, (according to her name badge), who seems to know a lot more about him than does he about her.

“The prodigal rogue triplet returns,” she says as he walks up to the counter.

It makes Anthony laugh loudly almost spilling the cup of tea he’s just been handed, “now come on Mary, I wouldn’t say prodigal. Disgraced more like. Lasagne please”

“Nowt wrong with a divorce,” she tells him firmly and with a wipe of her hand on her purple Button House t-shirt. Anthony has forgotten how quickly news travels in small villages. “You’s be a Doctor though,” she goes on to say.

Anthony nods. “I am. GP actually.”

“Are you gonna be working at the surgery with Dr Bone?”

Considering it’s an important part of his life Anthony hasn’t really thought about work – well he has, briefly, after he’d stopped feeling sorry for himself. He needs something that much is obvious – but sourcing a locum position has been the last thing on his mind. He supposes it’s in his favour that after the Covid pandemic they are crying out for GPs across the country so it shouldn’t be too hard.

His basic plan had been to get himself as settled as he could be back at Button House, find a locum post somewhere, move on. But if the local surgery has vacancies though… Also, Dr Bone? Really? Had he heard right? And he was a GP? It was crying out for an orthopaedic specialisation with a name like that. Maybe he could introduce him to Mick.

“Is that what the local GP is called?” he enquires as if that the most important thing he has just been told.

“Aye, he’s a good Doctor as well.”

“I have no doubt.”

“The other Dr left; she wasn’t very good – total bitch if I am beings honest, Alison who lives up at Top Farm thought so and Kitty, who’s one of the nurses there said the same and she likes everyone,” Mary continues albeit now in a conspiratorial whisper. “Humphrey, he be Dr Bone will be up here later no doubt to see your sister.”

“Really?” Anthony eyebrows shoot up at that snippet of information. Fanny hasn’t mentioned a suiter in any of their recent conversations. They've mostly been about him returning to the fold, or how much of a bastard Graham had been, but her dating a doctor hasn’t been mentioned once. The thought that his sister might be engaged in some sort of relationship with anyone brings a smile to his face. She’d rather shied away from them over the years.   

“Really, but you haven’t heard it from me. Now eat your lasagne and this time it’s on the house Doctor.”

Anthony laughs, because he’s fairly sure there’s a niche joke there somewhere about House Doctors’, but he isn’t sure Mary would get it.

The lasagne however (and the local gossip) is the best Anthony had in a long time.

Chapter Text

“So, you’re finally back then?” Asking this time is Thomas, still wearing the purple Button House polo shirt Anthony had seen him in earlier even though its well past visitor opening hours.

After unpacking a couple of his boxes and briefly raiding the fridge Anthony finds himself standing in the middle of the old ballroom next to a short man sporting glasses, a duplicate purple polo shirt, a scouting neckerchief (‘I like to represent the troop’), and name badge that says ‘Pat’.

Anthony shrugs, “apparently so.” 

“For good this time?”

“Bloody hell Thomas, I’ve only just got here.”

“Well one needs to ask these things brother mine given your history of disappearing off down Dorothy’s yellow brick road to follow your dreams while giving Mother a heart attack.”

Dear god. Anthony mentally shakes his head at his brother. A touch of the dramatic as always, just like their Mother (who never had a heart attack, not once). “I’m here for now, not sure how long for, let’s see how it goes,” Anthony replies nodding at the other man who had been stood watching their interaction with interest.

“Patrick Butcher, Events & Facilities Coordinator.” The man holds out his hand and Anthony responds in kind with a firm grasp and vigorous shake.

“Anthony Havers, triplet number 3, number 1 or number 2, dependant on what day of the year it is – we don’t have a known order. Definitely the wayward one though. Absolutely didn’t find a pot of gold at the end of Dorothy’s rainbow, terribly gay, GP.”

“Dear god Anthony. Have some respect!”

“What?!”

“Button. It’s Button, your surname is Button brother dear. I do wish you would get it right,” Thomas interjects cutting anything that Pat was going to say off. The man is left hanging with his mouth open.

“Apologies Patrick,” Anthony says, turning back to give Pat his full attention, “my full title is Dr Anthony Joseph Havers Button. That’s what’s on my GMC record and my birth certificate anyway. I prefer Anthony Havers. Didn’t fancy being known as Dr Button so used my middle name.”

Patrick nods knowingly, “understandable. Although considering the GP here is called Bone, you’re in good company.”

Anthony laughs at hearing the Doctor’s name for the second time today. “I’ve heard about Dr Bone. Outstanding moniker, as is yours come to think of it.”

“Ha, well yes, well, Butcher, Bone, Button. Quite the combination. Humph’ll probably be here in a bit. Cap as well. All of us have been called in for a meeting by Julian.”

Anthony frowns. He had rather hoped the erstwhile family accountant slash solicitor had forgotten about it, “he told me earlier he wanted to speak to the three of us but not the whole estate. Bloody hell.”

Before either man can answer him though, the sound of Julian’s voice once again echoes around the house. “Ah, a call to arms?” Anthony asks looking towards the direction the yelling had reverberated from. One of the meeting rooms in the east wing by the sounds of it. Fanny had informed him earlier they had managed to convert some of the ground floor vacant rooms into a meeting space.

“Hmm yes. I’m surprised he hasn’t sent someone he thinks is a servant for us.”

“He’s not changed then, has he?”

Thomas sighs heavily, “not in the slightest. Terrified of Fanny though, she eats him alive during board meetings, which you’d know about if you read the minutes.”

Anthony doesn’t.

By the time the three men reach the meeting room, Anthony has naturally built himself up into a mini-internal frenzy. He puts some of it down to lack of sleep and being in a constant state of worry. However, he suspects most of his worry is due to being back at Button House. It’s only been twelve hours and already he is already being bloody well pulled into Button House’s issues and Lord of the Manor bollocks.

Not that all Button House’s issues are bollocks, of course, but one of the reasons he did follow Thomas’ metaphorical yellow brick road and go to medical school was this sort of ‘bollocks’.

No, Anthony was and is, quite happy to receive paperwork advising him of changes every quarter (‘you’re still on the board!’), signing legal stuff when it arrives or voting in a decision over new toilets for example. He’s even happy to be a recipient of Thomas’ monthly newsletter after being added to a mailing list without his consent.

But farm tenants, visitors, café’s, meeting rooms, guided tours, deer, he wants nothing to do with it all.

Especially not while wearing a purple polo shirt anyway.

The meeting room is full when they finally reach it. Casting his eyes over the occupants he is surprises himself by being able to recognise some of the attendees from the various introductions he has been on the receiving end of throughout the day.

The fact most (with the exclusion of his sister and a couple of others) are still wearing the lurid purple polo shirts and their name badges help enormously of course and Anthony takes that as a bit of a win if he is being honest.     

For her part, Fanny is sat over in the corner with a dark-haired man who Anthony assumes is Humphrey the infamous Dr Bone. Patrick has already broken off from them and is heading over to where a young couple and a sleeping baby are sat (possible farm tenants?) asking about biscuits. Thomas has found himself a seat by Mary, who is sitting with a rather strange looking chap with wild hair and even wilder teeth also sporting a purple polo shirt. The man waves a thumbs up at Anthony wildly, prompting Anthony to return a thumbs up back nervously.

Julian is also there, looking like he is about to shout ‘order’ very loudly and next to him, stood casually lounging against the wall, is a grey-haired chap with a full moustache, wearing glasses and open wax Barbour jacket, a John Deere baseball cap, a purple polo shirt and dark blue trousers that Anthony thinks might be chinos.

Good Lord. Who in the silver fox was that?

“ORDER!!” Julian shouts, making everyone jump, especially Anthony who is semi transfixed by the chap in the Barbour coat.

“Goodness, there’s really no need, you aren’t the in House of Commons anymore.” Fanny tells Julian calmly, no doubt reminding the man he’s no longer an MP. The look Julian’s gives her in reply almost makes Anthony sad he hasn’t attended any AGM’s. His sister is a warrior of a women.

Anthony notes the silver haired man didn’t move a muscle.

“Well, I’m just getting their attention. Anthony, I see you made it to a meeting finally,” Julian replies not looking up from the paperwork. Unfortunately, Julian's use of his name causes everyone else to look up and directly at Anthony, including Humphrey who nudges Fanny with his elbow. Mary gives him a big wave.

The grey-haired man who up until that point had been fixated on his phone also looks across towards Anthony.

Blimey.

“Apparently so,” Anthony replies with a cough. Talk about putting a person on the spot. He’s being stared at by at least 12 sets of eyes. Even the baby is giving him a hard glare. “What is this all about anyway?” he says as calmly as he can, “not to be a complete arse on my first day back Julian but I’ve only been here 12 hours. I’ve not even unpacked my underwear yet.”

It is the truth; most of his suitcases are still sitting in the middle of the bedroom where he’s left them. The exercise of unpacking filling him with an existential dread. “I’m dead on my feet, I really don’t see why I am here.”

“You’re on the board!” Julian snaps back.

Anthony tuts in response. “I’ve been on the board for over 20 years, and you’ve managed okay without my input all this time, could this have not waited?”

“Told you he’d be trouble, I love it,” someone – Mary he suspects – whispers too loudly. The comment has Anthony turning to face her end of the room and laughing softly.

“Always happy to oblige,” he replies. He knows he’s behaving like a dick; but honestly.

“Anthony please,” it’s Fanny who brings his attention back to the front of the room with the sort of cough that Anthony knows too well because before she died their mother deployed the same tone of voice and glare manoeuvre while they had been growing up.

Stop it.

“Sorry Julian, tired and irritable. Forgive me,” Anthony apologises, clearing his throat. “Please continue.”

“Hmm, well – let’s get on with it, as you can all see Anthony has returned to Button House for an undisclosed period. For those of you who don’t remember or have never met him, he is Thomas and Stephanie’s brother – order unconfirmed. Anyway, as all attendees here are contractually linked to Button House via way of heritage, tenancy, business, or employment, I legally need to inform you that due to complications and decisions made over 42 years ago and no formal successor being named, Button House and Estate does not currently have an active representative in the House of Lords. A stipulation of Lord Joseph Button’s last will and testament was that on the return of all three siblings permanently to Button House – and as we can assume Anthony will be at Button House for the foreseeable future as he nowhere else to go - a named successor will be chosen. If no heir is identified, Lord Button determines the title… blah… blah… blah. Therefore, cutting to the chase, as the 2^nd potential Button House heir has now returned to the estate – Thomas being the other, paragraph 5.2a has been triggered of Lord Button’s will. A male successor therefore must be named within twelve months.”

Silence. Absolute silence fills the room, and it takes Anthony to moment to take in everything Julian had just said.

“Are you being fucking serious?” he snaps across the desk, making eye contact with Fanny and then Thomas as he speaks. “Excuse the language sister, I know you aren’t a fan, but was this in the original will?”

He can see the panic cross her face, “I I I… I’m not sure. I think I have a copy upstairs.”

“It was a hidden stipulation of the will, only to be released when the three of you returned home,” Julian replies nodding firmly, chin held high. He has such a smug look on his face that Anthony for the first time in his life wishes he could punch something.  

“Is that legal?” Thomas asks, biting his lip as he does so. “I’m sure it’s not legal. What happens if Ant never returned home? What happens then? Can father do this? And really Julian, did you need to do it in front of everyone?”

“Julian?”

“Your father can, and he did. The naming of a successor effects everyone who resides on the Button House estate and/or uses the Button House name, specifically the surgery - Dr Bone, the tenant farms – The Coopers, Mary, and Robin, including the museum, café and deer park – Captain? You cover everything James hence why you are here. As for your question re: Anthony not returning to Button House, if no heir is declared after 12 months or the three siblings are not under the same roof when they reach the age of 45 article 5.2b is triggered. This is sealed article only to be released when either period expires.”

“Good Lord.”

“Bloody hell.”

Lifting his hands, Anthony rubs his hands over his face pushing the heels of his palm into his eye sockets. Blast it. This was everything he, Stephanie and Thomas had never wanted. Their dirty family laundry being hung out to dry was one thing, but for his failed marriage and arrival back to Button House to trigger this action sending the place into turmoil is enough to send him back to London, high rents or not.

“I…” he starts to say, not really sure what to say.

It’s been such a long time since the three of them sat down and discussed peerages and titles that he hardly remembers what was said. Not in any detail anyway and yet Anthony’s always felt he’s been quite clear on the subject.

It isn’t for him. He’s not Lord Button; and he has no intentions of being, not ever. Not at aged 21 when their mother passed and again after Lord Button himself had slipped off his mortal coil.

It seems therefore rather ironic, Anthony thinks as he scans the room, that his father who had at one time agreed quite fervently that that one of his sons was not Lord Button material, had triggered an event that could make his worse dreams come true.

It’s almost laughable.

Except it isn’t.

Not in the slightest.    

There’s no doubt in Anthony’s mind that the person who deserves the peerage more than anyone is Fanny. She is Lady Button, she’s earned it, and yet hundreds of years of male misogyny was going to be her bloody downfall.   

Sensing the emotion in the room Anthony turns towards his sister, taking in the expression on her face. He watches as sadness, anger, frustration, cross over it with a flash as their eyes meet. ‘I’m sorry’. Anthony doesn’t say the words, he didn’t need too, the weird triplet vibe they have kicking in for the first time in decades. He’s pleased when he spots Humphrey’s hand weave about her back and neck as a support. Fanny, for her part shakes her head lightly at Anthony in response, ‘Not your fault.’

Anthony’s gaze quickly moves to find Thomas. ‘Not your fault,’ his expression also reads as they lock eyes and Anthony shakily nods in thanks.

Knowing that they are all somewhat on the same sheet, Anthony pushes his chair back – he needs to get out of there. Right now. “I should go,” he announces to the silent audience. Standing, he pushes the chair back a second time, this time with force. The thud it makes when it hits the wall loud and intrusive. “Yes, I think I need to unpack, and maybe eat again.” He says, suddenly remembering he hasn’t eaten anything substantial since the lasagne. “Can we talk tomorrow?” he asks his siblings. Both nod in agreement in his direction.

“Anthony, before you go, might I have a quick word?” Anthony turns towards the voice, he just wants to get out of there, but Humphrey, Dr Bone (and Fanny) is looking at him with semi-pleading eyes. Anthony nods, hopefully indicating to the man the chat needs to take place outside where he can at least breathe some fresh air. “Of course, will there anything else Julian?” he asks out politeness.

“No. I think that’s it. Unless Cap has anything, he wants to bring up?”

“Ah…” The silver haired man says after a pause. Anthony looks over to the man as he speaks. Anthony rather hopes to god ‘Cap’, whoever he is, doesn’t have anything to bring up. “No, I rather don’t think it’s the right time do you Julian?”

At that, Anthony signals a silent thank you across the room and makes his way through the meeting room door without waiting for Julian to answer.

“He shouldn’t have done that,” Thomas snarls viciously as soon as they are out in the open. Apparently, Anthony’s siblings and a couple of other attendees have followed him outside. Thomas to his credit, Anthony thinks, looks furious. He’s always been the one out of the three of them who’d been closest to their parents. Over the years he has defended decisions and statements they made that cut both Anthony and Fanny to the ground. Their father’s latest ‘caveat’ was apparently a step to far though. “Damn him and father,” he blurts out running his fingers through the wild curls of his hair. “Damn him.”

“Thomas, it’s okay.” Fanny is the first to respond. She shrinks back when Thomas practically snarls at them a second time.

“Dragging Ant’s marriage into it as well. God almighty. Did you see all their faces? Alison and Mike looked like they wanted to dig a hole and dive in it.”

“Thomas…”

“Airing our dirty laundry out like that. Everyone ruddy well knows there is no named heir. Everyone. There’s a whole fucking documentary about it on You Tube,” Thomas continues, referencing the deep dive someone had once done on the family after the movie came out. “Father and his bloody ideas, no wonder Mother took to her room so often, the man was a law unto himself.”

“It just feels terribly cruel making one of you do it if you don’t want to,” Fanny says finally. His sister is strong and could rule the world given a chance and yet here she is very aware she is being hung out to dry because she wasn’t born a male. Dr Bone, god bless him, looks like he is practically holding her up.

“Who’s the guy in the Barbour, silver hair? The one Julian asked if there was anything else to bring up at the end there,” Anthony enquires, his eyes following the man as he walks out the main entrance of Button House.

Blue chinos indeed.

It’s Humphrey who answers this time. “Estate Manager. His name is James, but we call him Cap – used to the in Army. Good man. Likes a whiskey, bit nervous sometimes, but he’s been through a lot, I think. Stays out of the way when it’s Bonfire Night and New Year. Very good at what he does though, has this place running like a military operation.”

“He’s my right-hand man, isn’t he H?” Fanny agrees with a nod.

Humphrey not hearing the question has moved on though, “listen, speaking of jobs, and I know this isn’t the best time and completely up to you, but we have a vacant GP position at Button House Surgery. 12-month contract if you want it?”

The question has Anthony reluctantly turning his attention back to Humphrey and away from the silver hair man now striding purposely across the driveway towards a vintage Land Rover.

“12 months?” Anthony asks.

Humphrey nods firmly. “Minimum. Seems a bit good to be true… you… being back home, but I’m a bit desperate – down a good GP and Fanny says you’ve been working in London as one for years.”

“Oh, Anthony please do take it. I think you ‘d fit right in. Both Thomas and I think so. And as Humphrey says, it would give us time to sort this thing out.”

Anthony sighs at his sister. He’s tired and unsettled. More food, shower, sleep, not necessarily in that order are what he needs now, not a job – not one he must commit 12 months too anyway.

“Can I get back to you?” he replies carefully. “I’m not declining, I just think I need some sleep and maybe some food.”

Humphrey nods back in agreement. “Of course. Later in the week, let things settle?”

“Absolutely.”

Chapter Text

“So, I bet you are proper glad to be back with your family then?”

“Sorry?”

“Here at Button House?”

Over the last few days Anthony has realised that Patrick Butcher is one of the most perpetually annoyingly happy people he has ever met. In fact, in that time, Anthony has not seen or heard the man have a cross word with anyone - blocked toilets, not a problem ‘whoever did that must have needed it Thomas’, rained off archery display ‘wouldn’t want an arrow slipping and going your neck would we’.

Today, it’s an issue with a very broken wheel on a trolley in the cafe, ‘Mary, it’s not the end of the world, and if it is broke, we’ll get Cap to order you a new one,’ Anthony hears him tell the very frustrated looking restaurant supervisor a few moments earlier. Now though, Pat is sitting facing Anthony eating a large pork pie and holding a large mug with ‘Scout Master’s do it wearing a woggle’ printed across it. Not entirely Baden Powell appropriate Anthony thinks but what did he know. He had once used a mug while working on a Mental Health Unit that said ‘You’re just jealous the voices only talk to me’ on it.

“I know the boss is pleased you’re back,” Pat continues as if the statement is a matter of fact not theory.

“Boss?”

“Your sister.”

“Ah, yes – I didn't put the two together. La familia,” he replies with the best mafia boss impersonation he can muster.

“Is that French? I speak a bit of French myself - Quel est votre nom?” Pat replies triumphantly.

“It’s Spanish actually.”

“Are you fluent? Lovely country, marvellous. Went for two weeks to Malaga with the family a few years ago before Daley – that’s me lad, decided he rather go to Anya Napa with his mates.  Anyway, you must be glad you’re back home, right?”

In truth, Anthony isn’t sure how to answer Pat's question. He’s been back a few days now and he still hasn’t decided – not really. It has its advantages, no bills (yet), some privacy (Fanny, he has discovered likes to chat handsfree while she is mucking out the stables and Anthony is still in bed) and peace and quiet of the countryside, but the question ‘is he glad to be back?’ isn’t one Anthony doesn’t think he can answer yet.

The food is an improvement that’s for sure. Anthony was pleased as punch to see homemade fish and chips on the café menu today.

As for everything else though, the jury is still out.

There has one apparent blessing though, since the meeting, no one – including Fanny and Thomas has mentioned the dreaded peerage debacle. Julian tried to engage him about it while making a brew the previous evening, but Anthony had shrugged it off claiming he was tired and needed to sort through his stuff. It wasn’t entirely a lie – most of his belongings he’d shoved into boxes haphazardly having packed at speed. At one point yesterday he’d found his gym gear tangled up with some medical journals he had rescued from Graham’s clutches.

Mick has also shifted about the bedroom as well a far bit. The poor chap looks like Anthony feels, unsettled. Currently he is stood next to Anthony’s bed as if waiting for the next move.

In the end Anthony settles on nonchalant answer, “it’s been good to see everyone again,” he says before eating a fork full of chips.

Pat doesn’t seem to take the hint. “Families can be stressful. It all kicked off when me and Carol, that’s my ex-wife left me for my best friend – took sides they did the sods – so I know how you feel. But then I came here, and found these lot and well, happy days.”

“How long have you worked for my sister?” Anthony asks, resigning himself to needing to make conversation.

“Five years. And it’s been a pleasure.”

“Some of us have been ‘ere longer,” another voice says suddenly. A 2^nd mug of tea lands in the middle of the table by way of introduction.

“Hi Mary, excellent chips today.”

“Good potato’s the key, not frozen, twice baked. Your sister’s wrong if she says anything else,” Mary replies proudly.

“I’ll be sure to tell as such if she asks,” Anthony replies firmly aware that there may be a back story to this somewhere. “Serious stuff are chips.”

“As well you know it. Anyway, less of that when are you starting at the surgery.”

Anthony groans silently. “Not you as well.”

Robin – who he found out earlier that day is Mary’s partner – has asked him also. According to Robin the last locum GP to work there had been an idiot.

“It’s a good surgery. Humphrey’s a good guy.”

“Tis the best in the area.”

Anthony doesn’t doubt it. The fact Humphrey has the balls to get involved with Fanny single handedly moved him up the good guy’s ranking in Anthony’s opinion.

Twelve-month contract though? Anthony just isn’t sure. “There’s some things to consider,” he answers before taking another mouthful of food.

Pat eye’s him suspiciously as he does so. “You don’t know if want to be here for long, do you? At Button House.”

Anthony huffs lightly, “it’s a bit more complex than that.”

“Is it?” Pat answers taking a sip of tea. “From where I am sitting-.”

“And me,” Mary interjects.

“Listen, this is my opinion, and I don’t know everything,” Pat continues, leaning forward. His voice is almost a whisper, “London sounds like it gave you hell for a while. Well, the people in it anyway according to the Boss – I’m sure it’s a very nice place – food and drink galore – but that’s beside the point. What I’m saying is maybe you need some time out, speak to Humphrey, then, when stuffs calmed down and you know about the peerage – have a look elsewhere if you still want to go. Depends on how attached you feel to this place – I can’t imagine not working here, the place pulls in lost souls – Mary and Robin, Alison, and Mike, even Cap – I can’t imagine this place without him, and he started just before covid hit. But in the end, you gotta make your own decisions haven’t you.”

Anthony nods, unsure on how to reply to that.

“And speaking of Cap,” Pat states suddenly, his voice now back to a normal level, “he’s just walked in, I need to tell him about that trolley. In my opinion Mary you’re gonna need a bigger boat, broke or not, that trolley’s too small.”

Following Pat’s bold stride across the café, Anthony turns his head towards the door and spots Button House’s estate manager stood by the trays and eyeing up the menu. Anthony hasn’t seen the man since the meeting. According to Fanny he likes to keep himself to himself a lot of the time and doesn’t much get involved in the day to day running of the house and yet the place wouldn’t survive without him apparently, ‘an absolute god send Anthony. He really is.’

Anthony doesn’t know whether that’s true or not, but he can certainly see the appeal of the man for different reasons. Especially if he walks around without a jacket on and fills out a purple polo shirt that well all the time.

Shoulders. Anthony thinks. Shoulders. All the better for hold-

“You finished?” Mary says suddenly, breaking his gaze. She’s smiling most oddly at him when he turns around to face her.

“Arh yes, thank you,” he replies hoping she means the food and not the staring.

“Surgery,” she says firmly and with a nod so firm Anthony feels his face begin to burn. “Tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

Button House Surgery isn’t what Anthony is expecting – unless of course he was expecting a sleek, modern, purpose-built ground floor building with excellent wheelchair access, ample parking, hand wash, a pile of face masks at the entrance and automatic doors (he wasn’t).

He arrives there at 8am, a little earlier than expected but sleeping in a strange bed, inside a structure that groaned and creaked the way the Button House does, coupled with the fact that his sleep pattern is all to sea anyway, apparently takes some getting used after one hasn’t done it for a while.

The surgery itself is set back from the main road, a few miles from its original location in the town centre, if Anthony remembers correctly. He notes that it has a good sized and car park – including an EV charging point, currently hooked up to a Smart Car – and is well protected from the elements by the furthest edge of the deer park and forest that border the Button House Estate.

He rather wonders if the surgery is something he has signed off on in the past as part his ‘member of the board’ obligations. He doesn’t remember signing anything – it probably would have caught his attention being a GP practice, but he’d rather developed a bad habit of not reading the stuff Fanny sent. Once time he accidently signed off on a new septic tank that cost rather more than the allotted budget. That had resulted in a stern phone call from his sister in between clinical sessions. So, the irony that he may end up working here isn’t lost on him in the slightest.

Nevertheless, it is all rather different to his last locum placement that’s for sure. That had been in a converted, repurposed old cottage hospital built the previous century. It had the mould and wasp infestation to prove it. Anthony had hated it.

“This is quite the place,” he says to Humphrey as they both wait for the automatic doors to slide apart and open. The aptly named Dr Bone arrived just after Anthony, riding a mountain bike complete with helmet and trouser clips. “Very Star Trek-esk these doors, aren’t they? Aren’t you going to lock that up?” He enquires, nodding to the bike Humphrey has just propped up by the door.

“God no. No one will nick it - they all drive Range Rovers around here. I’m glad someone gets the Star Trek reference though, no one else does in this place. But don’t get me started on Trek, or I will be here all day and demanding to know who your favourite Captain is, it’s Picard by the way. Did you ever visit the old surgery?”

Anthony nods. “Many a time, as a patient and then briefly as an admin assistant after leaving school. Also, I think I liked Kirk - both Shatner and Pine’s portrayals.”

“Really?”

“Yes, to both, as for the surgery I made cups of tea, secretly read the patients notes and served biscuits to old Dr Barclay.”

“Arh, fair play, the old guard, Doc Barclay himself,” Humphrey answers with a laugh, straightening a stray leaflet about accessing NHS bereavement services as he does so. “He hated me, hated that I saved his practice and moved it into this place. Please don’t tell me that old fossil made you want to be a GP?”

This time it’s Anthony who laughs. Good lord no. Dr John Barclay had been one of his father’s cronies – members of the same club. The only positive thing Anthony could say about the man was that he didn’t like Julian very much. “No, I wanted to be a fighter pilot growing up. Or a world class cricketer. Both choices where slightly out of my capabilities, so I settled on medicine. My mother was happy, so here I am.”

“Cricket, eh? Cap will like you. I’m pretty sure he listened to a whole test match once during one of Julian’s quarterly meetings. I could hear him swearing under his breath when someone was caught out. Do you still play?”

Anthony shakes his head. For some reason he squirrels the information that Button Houses’ estate manager likes cricket away for later. Mostly so he can think about it when he is alone, and then try to understand why he wants to think about when is alone. “Erm, not for a while,” he answers quickly. “I’ve been a Lords a few times though. Watched England beat the Aussie’s last year.”

“Fair play. The Button House XII is still going, I think they won last weekend, but it all gets a bit too Midsomer Murders for me with them lot. The AGM and Quarterly meetings are a bloody blood bath – probably why they ask me to attend,” he says with a chuckle, smacking his hands together. “Anyway, let’s get down to business, you’re here, and I know it’s not under the best circumstances – Fan’s told me a bit of it, but being the selfish bastard that I am, I think it couldn’t have happened at a better time. If you don’t want the position that’s fair enough but I’m going to be a bit up shit creek. Our clinical caseload isn’t massive BUT the area is too big for me to handle on my own. I’m working all hours.”

Anthony nods, he knows that feeling. He hasn’t a clue what the practice capacity is at Button House – maybe he should have done a bit of research before turning up – but most surgeries in London are well over capacity and have multiple salaried and locum GP’s. “It’s more like a business now.”

“It is.”

“What’s your offer?” Anthony asks as they step into the main waiting room. It’s light and airy and doesn’t smell like bleach which is always bonus.

“£85 - £90 / hour, locum rates. With the opportunity to turn it into a salaried role at the end of the contract. I know it’s not London prices – we couldn’t complete with them, and I’d rather not go through a recruitment agency, but... Face to face, telephone, home visits, care home visits, your own clinical space, on call, some evenings. Just… listen… hear me out, let me show you around and tell me what you think.”

Nodding, Anthony allows Humphrey to lead as he weaves his way around the chairs. They walk past a large ‘Who We Are” noticeboard that has a very visible gap for the photograph of second GP, before reaching a door with a sign on it that reads PRIVATE. Anthony watches as Humphrey flashes a fob at door release lock on the wall.

“This is the hub of the place. Everything you would need is here. We have three admin persons, all trained at triaging patients – who - by the way - will complain weekly that they get a mini assessment before booking an appointment – two general / district nurses – Kitty and Joyce, a Psych Nurse called Andy who covers the whole county and a phlebotomist – Roger - who does a twice weekly clinic. We also have a baby group that’s absolute carnage on Tuesday’s mornings. Are you familiar with SystemOne?”

Anthony nods, “I am.”

“That the system we use. It’s not perfect but it does us. Links us up to the mainframe – Robin manages that – you met him at Julian’s meeting. Scruffy looking chap, Astrophysicist by trade, his spare room looks like mission control at NASA, prefers working in the park with Cap and café though. That door there? Is the staff room, there’s a shower and a toilet area in there also. Network and computer stuff behind that door and the final door there takes you to the clinical space – want a look at your room? Well, your potential room anyway.”

Anthony nods an okay, “it’s certainly different to my old surgery,” he says but Humphrey hasn’t heard him, he’s already opening doors, and naming each room as he goes.

“This is the treatment room,” he announces outside a closed door, giving the wood a hard knock and opening it without waiting for an answer.

“Goodness Humphrey did you not hear me?!” The voice comes from the corner of the room from where Anthony can see a nurse bending over a chair speaking calmly to someone.

In all honesty it takes Anthony a moment to read the scene. The room decor itself is a lot to take in, modern and bright with a pink wall at one end and rather strangely, a poster of someone he thinks is from Gladiators hanging up on the wall.  The nurse, who is now stood upright is wearing pink Dr Martin boots, a plastic apron, face mask and gloves. She’s also holding two vials of blood and a needle.

“It didn’t say engaged on the door Kitty.”

“I didn’t think I would need to ‘engage’ it at 8am.” The nurse retorts, gently slamming the two vials down into a kidney dish. She pulls down the mask, so it sits under her chin. “Bloody pointless wearing this thing too, considering you just burst in.”

Humphrey ignores her, “I was just showing Anthony, Dr Havers around. Trying to tempt him to join us.”

“Thomas’ brother?”

“Fanny’s too. Triplets, it’s a miracle of modern science.”

Anthony chuckles, straightens his back, and gives a mock salute. “The very same.”

“Whose bloods are you doing at this time in the morning?”

“She’s doing mine Humphrey, what of it?” a voice says from the chair.

Anthony suddenly realises he hasn’t really paid much attention to the person sat in the chair, which it terribly remiss of him considering this chap could be a potential patient. But now that the man has spoken Anthony can’t help but drag his eyes up and cast them over the two blue chino clad legs shuffling forward, purple polo shirt, broad shoulders, moustache, and silver hair.

Cap. James. The Estate Manager.

Good Lord. The cricket information was one thing, as were the naked arms yesterday, but having now seen the chap in proper lighting he’s a walking a conflict of interest if ever Anthony saw one. Not that Anthony was in any shape mentally or professionally to have a conflict of interest but still it couldn’t hurt to look.   

“You know I detest having my bloods done so I came early before all the rest of the town wake up. Early bird catches the worm!” The man continues, throwing Kitty a concerned look as he does.

If Humphrey is bothered by this, he doesn’t say so. Instead, he picks up the estate managers coat and hands to him. “I didn’t see the Landy out front, have you walked?”

“No, I parked the quad at the back, scaled the fence. Will probably regret that move later but needs must, it’s a 25-minute round trip otherwise and I’d rather go as the crow flies. Anyway, I better be off, I have a 0900 with some feed merchants. Dr Bone…Dr Havers, Katherine.”

“Remember if you feel faint Uncle James have a cup of tea or a biscuit.” Kitty shouts mid doff of her PPE but the man is already out of the room in a blur of purple and chino.

“Will he be okay to climb back over the fence?” Anthony enquires. He hasn’t a clue of the man’s medical history of course. He could be perfectly able to do so and runs marathons at weekends for all Anthony knew.

With those shoulders he could probably lift a man.

Kitty nods her head. “Oh yes, he can be a bloody menace at times. If he starts talking to you about tanks or World War 2, walk away. Just leave him to it. Anyway, more importantly, when do you start?”

“He hasn’t said yes yet Kitty. Don’t pressure him.”

“Whyever not? Have you got other options?” she asks pointedly.

Anthony hasn’t. Not really. He indicates as such with the shake of his head.

After Patrick’s bold speech at lunch yesterday however Anthony realises the man might be right in some respects, not all, Button House was easy to leave. Anthony has already left once, and he could easy do it again.

Kitty huffs, “then just say yes. According to Mary, who’s been told by Thomas you got divorced from your awful husband who was cheating on you with an awful American called Bryon and came home. No job.”

Anthony will be thanking Thomas later for sharing his life story. Small town, big gossip. The guy’s actual name was Brydan. “All of that is true.”

“Then work here. You aren’t going to get a better offer. Why make it so complicated?”

Anthony sighs, he knows this. He does. It all just seems rather too easy.

Happily, for Humphrey (and with an excited Kitty standing over him and Pat’s words ringing in his ears) Anthony accepts the locum contract 30 minutes later and is advised his network log in info, password, access fob and all the legal stuff will be registered with Button House Surgery by the end of the week.    

---

It’s early afternoon by the time he eventually leaves the surgery. He’s been introduced to the rest of the staff with firm handshakes and is handed a key to his own room and is told to decorate it as he wishes.

“Put up posters, whatever, Roger brings a laminated photograph of his dog when he’s doing bloods, apparently it’s a talking point with some of the nervous patients and distracts them, anyway, whatever, it’s yours for the next 12 months anyway,” Humphrey tells him, Kitty excitedly nodding in agreement next to him.  

He declines however to have his photo taken for the board ‘just yet’ but promises a very stern looking secretary she can grab it on his first day of work which Humphrey proclaims rather loudly to the whole surgery (including patients) will be later in the week if everything clears.

---

The village Anthony grew up isn’t a big place. It has a church, a few shops, a new Tesco Metro, a butcher, a decent bakery, and the obligatory charity and vape shop (combined). As he walks along the main high street looking for a spot of lunch Anthony remembers it feeling like centre of the world when he was younger. His parents, who owned most of the land upon where it stood, rather let him and his siblings run wild at times. It didn’t help that the three of them where home schooled initially, something that Anthony always considered held him back - not that the day school he was eventually sent to prepared him anymore, but at least it had him out from the shadows of Button House for a while.

In those days, Anthony’s relationship with his schooling, his parents, his siblings even, had been rather turbulent. Of course, aged 15, the thorny subject of his sexuality had reared its head and by god hadn’t that had caused misunderstanding from different quarters. Crushes on teachers, older boys, the lad who worked at the butchers who he had his first kiss with, watching Queer as Folk with the volume as low as he could get it aged 17 (he secretly hasn’t been able to watch anything Aiden Gillen has starred in since without blushing) and being as equally shocked as he was in awe that people like him existed.

All of it resulted in him feeling rather out of place at Button House. His father didn’t want to understand, his mother telling him it was a phase. The verbal fireworks and explosions that followed Anthony still feels to this day.

Attending medical school in Birmingham was the revelation he finally needed. God was it ever. To quote the Queen Katy Perry herself, Anthony had kissed so, so many boys and liked it.

Then, during his Emergency Care placement he’d met Graham, a suave, handsome Consultant Anaesthetist, and rest was history. Or not. He still hasn’t decided.

By 2pm though Anthony has had enough. He’s walked the streets, grabbed a sandwich meal deal from the Tesco Metro and said ‘hello’ to more people than he can handle.

“Back to Button House?” Humphrey asks him as he spots Anthony is climbing into his car. “Home visits are easier on the bike, only got the two today though,” he offers as way of an unasked explanation for the bike clips and helmet.   

“Still got a few things to unpack,” Anthony lies. The belongings he needs are unpacked; the rest is still in boxes under the bed.

“Tell Fanny I’ll come up there after clinic tonight, if you see her,” Humphrey says as he pushes away and out of the car park. He doesn’t wait for a reply.

Chapter Text

To the unsuspecting visitor, the entrance to Button House appears to have just one road that leads up to the main buildings. What most people don’t see is the sharp right, just past the gatehouse where Julian resides. It’s a road that skirts the edges of the forest before turning left and into a single gravel track road. Skirting around the edge of an outcrop of high ground, it then passes the entrance to the family cemetery, before coming to a dead end and giving wonderful views of the countryside.  

Anthony hasn’t been this way for years, well before his father’s funeral anyway and he isn’t 100% sure what makes him turn right at the Gatehouse after leaving the surgery, but he does.

Slowly following the road, he manoeuvres his old SUV around the twists and turns, through the dense undergrowth and out onto an exposed section of track that leads directly to the family cemetery.

He’d behaved rather like a fool the day of his father’s funeral in hindsight. It hadn’t helped that he and Graham had had a ridiculous argument prior to the service about text messages and 1am phone calls - so Anthony knew his judgement may have been off a touch to begin with that day. Graham had even pointed out as much, calling him foolish and demanding they leave as soon as possible. The argument had rumbled on throughout the service as each ping from Graham’s phone sounded during the eulogies.

In the end Anthony had left early - maybe more out of embarrassment than anything. Saying his goodbyes to his father’s coffin at the church and not in front of the masses. Fanny of course had been so angry with him for that, refusing to speak to him for months. “He’s our father,” she snarled at him on the day and then repeatedly down the phone for weeks after.

It had taken an age for his relationship with his sister to get back on an even keel after that.

Whether it’s being back at Button House that is making him feel sentimental or not, Anthony isn’t sure. Maybe he just needs some space on his own. He’s been followed about all week. Fanny asking how long he is staying, Thomas very suddenly last night about the peerage, and everyone else about everything else.

It just all feels rather too much.

Pulling the car into a small layby and remembering to grab the meal deal, Anthony exits his car and walks along the stone track towards the cemetery. It is a pleasant day; he can sit on the bench he hopes is there and eat his lunch in peace before going back to the house and a million questions whether he has accepted Humphrey’s job offer.

In the distance Anthony can hear the familiar sound of the river that runs through the estate below, the sound of flowing water bringing a small smile to his face. The noise brings a tug of familiarity to his stomach. He’d grew up here, he knows this place. He just might not like it very much at times.

When Anthony finally spots the bench (exactly where I left it – he think’s rather oddly, considering he had nothing to do with putting the damn thing there) he takes a seat thankful that the wood is holding up under this weight.

The sandwich of course is pitiful, but that’s not what he is here for, and he opens the bag of crisps instead and looks out across the vista towards where he thinks London is.

Should he have taken the job at the surgery? Will they expect him to stay on after the contact is over? Is he homesick for the London? The hustle and bustle? Or is it Graham he misses? The man was complete bastard, but they had had some good times.

What was the saying? It’s how you feel at the end that’s important and not the beginning.’ God knows what film that came from – maybe one that Graham had made him watch, but it’s always stuck with him once he had heard it.

Had he loved Graham in the beginning? Of, course. At the end? Anthony still isn’t sure.

He may miss the man’s company sometimes, or rather the company of someone anyway. Graham was a little older than Anthony, ten years almost, but that had never worried Anthony, he preferred the mature man, someone a little more seasoned.

Apparently what Graham preferred was someone 15 years younger than Anthony.

No, he won’t miss Graham, he thinks solemnly.

What Anthony is ‘definitely’ going to miss London’s museums and theatre’s and everything being on a person’s doorstep that’s for sure. What happens if he wanted to visit friends or the West End? Eat Lebanese food or drink cocktails in an expensive bar?

Did Just Eats even cover this area?

Anthony takes a deep sigh and closes his eyes, just for a moment he assures himself.

“EXCUSE ME THIS IS AREA IS NOT…. Oh, apologies, I am sorry.”

Anthony’s eyes flick wide open at the noise. “Sorry?” he snaps back, unsure of where the sound is coming from. The brief nap he’s obviously just taken has made him discombobulated and he throws his head from side to side to scan the area to try to remember where he was.

Maybe his eyes had been closed for more than a minute.

“Apologies, I…I didn’t realise, I saw the car and… the public, sometimes, they come up here. Private land. Oh, yes, I’m so sorry, your family, the graves stones.” The person looks like they are waving towards the small mausoleum to Anthony’s left.

“Ah,” Anthony finally responds, very aware of the man now stood in front of him. Silver hair, purple polo shirt, naked forearms again even though he probably should be wearing a light jacket in this weather, shoulders, blue chinos, apparently rather lovely when flustered. “I don’t believe we have been formally introduced even though I have held a vial with your blood in it. I’m Anthony.”  

“You held my blood!?”

Anthony hums lightly, “Kitty has only two hands or so she says. It all got a bit complicated after you darted out the surgery earlier. At least you didn’t refer to me as someone’s brother though. And you are?”

“James… people call me Cap – short for Captain, Estate Manager.”

“Well take a pew James, join me, do you want a crisp?”

“Arh, no, It’s… I don’t want to disturb.”

Anthony laughs deeply this time. “You’re not disturbing me; you’re probably stopping me from getting all maudlin and shit about being back at Button House. Sit the hell down.”

“Well, if you insist,” James replies looking slightly unsure. “Do you not like being back Button House?” he asks after a pause as if the comment about Anthony being back was the only thing he took from the statement.

Anthony huffs, “well, that’s a loaded question if I ever I heard one. Let’s just say, I have complicated relationship with it. But I’m sure you gathered that from the meeting the other night.”

“Ah yes, it was rather unfortunate and tense.”

“Anything to do with my father was - is - never not tense. Even from the grave he manages to have an impact. Anyway, sit down.” Anthony waits for James to awkwardly sit next to him on the bench before offering up his crisp packet. The chap looks as stiff as a board Anthony notices; his knees didn’t sound too good either. “Take one, sandwich is bloody awful, you can rely on a Walkers though, Lineker never lets you down. And sorry for scaring you, not many people know about this bench, fancied a quiet moment to myself.”

He has strong hands too; Anthony thinks as he watches James take a crisp from the packet.

“Well, yes, I can imagine the past few days have been a lot,” James replies.

He really is rather handsome is James, Anthony decides, staring at the man’s profile. Classical, roman. The grey hair, the moustache is not something that would normally catch Anthony’s eye but then his buffs have been all over the place recently. “It’s been a strange couple of days I’ll admit, I’m hoping it calms down a little.”

James nods firmly, taking another crisp when offered, “will you working at the surgery?”

“Hmmm, yes. I will be. Not 100% I had a choice really.” It’s not a lie.

“Oh, Katherine didn’t bully you, did she?” James asks, eyebrows knitting together as he does so. “She does get a little excitable at times.”

Anthony chuckles softly, “Kitty? Gosh no, she is a polite excitable force isn’t she though, I rather think I’ve bullied myself about it. It’s a good surgery from what I can see, and even if I do say so myself, I’m an excellent GP and I’ll be doing what I’m good at. I also need the money.”

“A solid choice then.”

“What about you? Fanny says you are her right-hand man – which by the way I find fascinating, she’s never once said that about anyone else that’s worked for her, and she’s been running place for years.”

“Estate Manager.” James replies with a puff of the chest. “I look after the park, the buildings, manage the grounds and estate staff. I’m honoured that Stephanie would say that about me. Listen, I didn’t mean to disturb you before… just then.”

Anthony shakes his head, “you didn’t, not really. I used to come up here when I wanted time out. I haven’t been up there for a long time though. Part of me is working out if I want to shout at my father now that he can’t reply.”

“Oh dear.”

“Did you ever meet Lord Joseph Button?”

James pauses for a moment before answering, “briefly, Stephanie employed me just before he passed.”

“You were lucky then, you got him when he was quiet and didn’t have time to pass judgement on your life.”

“Ah.” 

“Not that I am assuming your life requires any judgement passing on it, I probably have enough for both of us,” Anthony says rather solemnly. More than enough judgement, he suspects.  

“Oh, I’m not sure-.”

“Anyway, why are you up here?” Anthony asks folding the up crisp packet into a triangle as he routinely does so. His fingers working with ease as he completes each action. It’s a habit he got into at University that’s never left him. At some point in his training, he had a wild thought of specialising in Thoracic Surgery so practised keeping a steady hand until the lure of general practice caught him in its messy hold.

“I..I live here, goodness, what are you doing with that crisps packet… no…no never mind; I live along the track, at The Folly. That’s my place.”

“You live at The Folly? Marvellous stuff,” Anthony says with a wide smile, putting the now folded crisp packet on the arm of the bench. “I loved that old building growing up. I take it you have fixed the roof. I’d lie on the rafters on the 1^st floor when we played hide and seek. I once hid there for 5 hours – fell asleep; they ended up sending out the search parties for me. Did you keep the fireplace? I once burnt a rather risqué piece of literature I found in that fireplace – after I’d read it of course. God knows what it was called, had lots of chest hair and moustaches in it.”

“Good lord,” James replies but it comes out a little raspy.

“Exactly.”

“Well… Goodness. I’m pleased to say the fireplace it still there, your sister allowed me to extend the building slightly and built a deck – of sorts – it’s very peaceful, I can watch the river, it helps keeps me…” James says with the flick of his hand close to his temple, before taking a deep breath. “I kept the tile floor too. And fixed the roof.”

Anthony hums in appreciation. “Sounds like you where the right choice for the place then. Follies are always seen as impractical buildings when truthfully all they need sometimes is a bit of love.”

“Well… maybe you would, like to take a tour? Someday, no pressure that is.”

“I may take you up on that James, see how the old place looks. But for now, I need to go and move some boxes around my room. It’s been a pleasure.” Anthony says, standing up as he does so and brushing at any stray crisps crumbs that had decided to latch themselves onto him. “Glad we got to meet more formally, under better circumstances. Blood test and conflicts about hereditary titles aren’t always the best situations.”

“No not ideal.” James says quickly before following it up with, “about that, the title, not the blood test – I’ve never liked them; Can I be honest? You know Julian is up to something don’t you?”

Anthony frowns, tilting it to one side as he does so, “I had an idea, what do you know?”

“Oh, nothing fixed, the whole thing just feels rather contrived,” James answers.

Anthony eyes him up carefully. He seems sincere, Anthony thinks – but then what does he know. Humphrey and his sister say he is a good guy, and his sister doesn’t trust anyone who can’t lay a table the correct way for dinner (which turns out to be everyone).

“Julian is – excuse my French – as dodgy as fuck, as bad as my father – if not worse,” Anthony admits. “They were like two peas in a pod when we were growing up. Going to their club together, hanging out Parliament doing what people do there. Mother couldn’t stand the guy. But that’s all history, or rather it was until I returned.”

“Of course. Yes. Do you miss it? London? Are you missing it? What I mean is, your life there…? No, don’t answer, terribly bad manners of me to ask. I’ve never lived in London, only visit for… so… well, I’m unsure on what living there is like. Rather loud I suspect.”

Anthony doesn’t respond immediately. Instead looks past James towards the skyline towards where London is. James is right, even from a distance Anthony can almost feel the noise and chaos.

“I’m not sure,” he answers honestly not wishing to expand his answer any further. “Thank you for the heads up though.”

“I…I wanted to warn you, that’s all. About Julian.”

“Appreciated,” Anthony says, his focus now back with James. “Next time I’ll bring two packets of crisps, yes?”

“Next time?”

“Well now that I am home, I’ll probably be up here a bit more. Plus, I’d like to see what you’ve done with my favourite hiding spot.”

“Oh, right, quite yes, of course. Yes.”

Chuckling to himself, Anthony starts the walk back to his car, down the hill and back to the ever-looming Button House.

For some reason he gets the feeling James is watching him all the way down.

Chapter Text

He hears the commotion before he sees it.

Stepping through the staff entrance of Button House Anthony slips off his walking boots and pads quietly through the kitchen, the ballroom, up a flight of stairs and along the corridor towards the library and to where what can only be described as a cacophony of sound is emanating from.

“What’s going on?” he whispers to the back first person he meets – which just happens to be Robin.

“Boss man wants library emptied,” Robin replies with a nod.

Following Robin’s gaze, Anthony finds his brother standing on a chair, arms raised. “Oh. Right.” Anthony says with a frown. “How long has been stood up there?” he asks continuing to whisper.

Robin shrugs. “Maybe 10 minutes. Waiting for him to fall.”

Anthony scoffs quietly, “weirdly, my brother has an amazing sense of balance – always has had, scared the life out of everyone growing up. He was like a mountain goat climbing up trees.”

“He still gonna fall.”

“£10 says he doesn’t Robin.”

“Bet accepted. He gonna fall.”

“Excellent stuff. We’ll not shake on it; I don’t want people to draw attention and I’m not prepared to take a cut in my winnings. What’s he going on about anyway?”

“You lot.”

“Ah. Yes. I thought it might be.”

Looking around the room Anthony sees most of the Button House staff are in attendance, even though it’s Monday and the place is closed for the day. Some are dressed casually (or in Pat’s case a scout master’s uniform) which is probably why the sight of them all stood together looking like tourists, confused the hell out of him.

That and the fact his brother is barking out the orders to anyone who will listen.

“Ah, Anthony you're here,” Thomas says as he spots him across the room, drawing everyone’s attention away from himself for as long as he can bare. Anthony briefly wonders how Thomas got them all to turn up on their day off. Where they here under duress? Threatened with cleaning the toilets for a week. Who knows what level of power his brother banded about behind closed doors. “Are you joining us? Mother’s diaries,” Thomas says, as if Anthony should have known this information without explanation.

“In here? Hidden in plain sight so to speak?”

“Hmmm, yes. They aren’t in her old room. Fanny cleared that out years ago and reports to have not seen anything remotely diary like,” Thomas tells him.

Anthony doesn’t doubt it – Fanny will have been nothing but thorough he thinks, nothing his sister’s absence from the room. He suspects she and Thomas have a probably had an argument and Fanny has buggered off for the day.  

“She’s in Bristol,” Thomas answers, confirming Anthony’s theory. “Meeting some friends she says she has. Did you know she had friends?”

Anthony didn’t, but good for Fanny. “Of course she has friends. That’s beside the point, you really think Mother hid her diaries in the most obvious bloody place?”

By now, Robin has stepped to one side. Anthony notes he’s still eyeing Thomas up suspiciously, waiting/wishing for him to fall off the chair, but the subtle step to the left that he makes, seems to trigger everyone else in the library to follow suit, the two sides of the crowd parting like the red sea. At one end of the gap is Anthony, at the other end is Thomas stood on a chair looking like some sort of roman emperor.

“Why are you covered in mud?” asks Thomas on a hair pin. “Where are your shoes? Are they shorts? Is April shorts wearing weather?”

Anthony sighs, hands on hips, his whole body heaving as the air is expels from his lungs. “I didn’t sleep well last night, and I didn’t have a clinic this morning, so I went for a walk around the estate as usual. Hence the mud. I didn’t want to tread it through the private areas of the house,” he explains in rather more detail than needed.

“Oh.”

“Is that alright?”

“Did you visit Cap’s deer?” Pat asks, reminding Anthony he’s still in a room full of people, most of whom are now also staring at him. “Loves his deer does Cap.”

In fact, he had visited Cap’s deer, taken a few excellent arty looking photos even if he says so himself. “It’s a fine herd,” he tells Pat who gives him a thumbs up.

Not for the first time since returning to Button House Anthony found himself up by the family gravestones earlier that morning. Sitting on his bench, he eaten a breakfast bar and drank a mug of coffee from the small flask he had brough with him. It had been a rather peaceful and content few hours.

His walks have turned into something of habit these last four weeks. Most times he ends up at the graveyard or cutting through the deer park. Today he was greeted by James sitting on a quad bike (which also had become a habit apparently) waiting to give Anthony a rundown of his morning (complete with photos) so far.

Deer

Salmon fishing.

The state of the car park after the weekend.

“Anyway, whatever, I’m going to need you too brother mine,” Thomas says cutting off Anthony’s thoughts.

“Whatever for?”

“Your bedroom.”

“My bedroom?”

“Is there something wrong with your hearing? Your bedroom, Mother’s diaries may be in there.”

“They bloody well aren’t. I know every inch of that room Thomas, and they aren’t there,” Anthony snaps back, raising his eyebrows, “don’t even think about it.”

“No hiding space? I know you had a few.”

He did, but all had been emptied years ago. Anthony has checked on more than one occasion. He shakes his head, “no. Absolutely not.”

“Do you want to sort out this debacle or not?”

Anthony does, but not at the mercy of his private space. He especially doesn’t want half of Button House marching through it, poking at Mick, commenting on his bed making skills and demanding to know where he used to hide things.

“I was going to have a shower,” he says in an attempt to throw a curve ball into the conversation. “I have a clinic starting in three hours.”

Thomas is unrepentant. “Let’s get it out of the way then,” he says with a wobble, grabbing of the back of the wooden chair to steady his balance.

“He going…” Anthony hears Robin mutter behind him.

“Patrick, go with my brother, the rest of us will start to clear in here.”

“For fucks sake.”

“Language Anthony, we haven’t all been exposed to big city life and developed guttural minds. Mary here has never left the county.”

“Tis true.”

Anthony doesn’t doubt it.

He bloody well won’t be cutting out the swear words either.    

“So,” says Pat as he is following Anthony through the door marked private and down the corridor towards Anthony’s bedroom not but five minutes later. “How are you doing?”

It’s quite the question considering they are about to search his bedroom together. “Generally, or right now?”

“Generally??”

“Fair to middling?” he replies. It feels like the most appropriate description of his first four weeks back under the eaves of Button House. “Jobs okay – busy,” he continues. “It’s good to see Fanny and Thomas again, and don’t get me wrong, I’m as keen as anyone to sort this mess out with my father – if only to get Julian off our back. So yes… fair to middling? Will that do?”

“Perfect mate, perfect.”  

They reach his bedroom a couple of second later. “Give me a minute, I wasn’t expecting visitors,” Anthony says taking a deep breath. It’s tidy if he remembers rightly. There might be a couple of rogue pairs of socks or boxer shorts lay about, but it wasn’t like he was storing or hiding anything untoward in there – not these days anyway.

“Oh yes, of course. Single bloke on his own. Your room is your castle. I’ll wait here,” Pat answers hands wide and placating. “I forget myself sometimes, at home that is. Not at Button House. It’s me and Daley there at the moment, Carol – that’s his Mum - has gone on a Caribbean cruise.”

“Right.”

“Not sure I fancy it that. Apparently, the food’s amazing according to the messages she sends him but I dunno, feels a bit weird eating a boiled egg sat on a boat.”

“Of course… Right, that’s better,” Anthony replies but not really listening. All underwear secure, Mick ready for inspection. “You can come in.”

“Oooo this is a nice room, has it always been yours like, from when you were a kid?” Pat says as he steps inside.

Anthony nods, “it was yes. Ensuite, and all that. Used to have a four-poster bed but that’s gone. Where do you want to start? There’s nothing under the bed or in the wardrobe. That chest of drawers I sent back here from University. There are a few wooden panels that move though,” Anthony says pointing to one of the walls. He walks over and touches one of them gently, listening for the click it would make as it unfastened. “I would put stuff in here that I didn’t want my parents to find. There’s another couple along this same row.”

“It’s a bit smart this, hidey holes,” Pat declares, pushing at multiple panel edges until one pop’s itself open. “Very cloak and dagger.”

“The house has been here for a long time. Legend has it Henry VII once visited – but you would know better than me Pat, I’m no tour guide.”

“He did! Correctamundo. One of his associates died here in a dual - Sir Richard Watmore. Rumour has it, it was Henry himself who did him in.”

“Goodness,” Anthony replies in what he hopes is an enthused tone.

He’s come to rather like Pat even with his general over cheeriness and positivity. The man seems very straight forward, likes his food – they’ve had multiple discussions about their favourite pies – fruit or savoury – over lunch. But more importantly he tells Thomas straight when he doesn’t like something – which is exactly what Thomas needs at times.

Right now though, Anthony would rather not have Pat rummaging through his smalls. Or rummaging anything come to think of it.

“Ermm. Hello, is there anyone there?” A voice suddenly says from down the corridor cutting off whatever either he or Pat had to say next. “I’ve been sent up here to help with the search, hello?”

It’s Pat who replies, “Cap? Is that you? We’re in ‘ere, Anthony’s room, down the hallway.”

“Ah, right,” the man himself replies, he steps tentatively over the threshold before pulling back hurriedly like he’s just stepped in lava. His eyes are dancing around the room, unsure on where to land. “I hadn’t realised…”

Anthony sighs gently. “Come in. Come all,” he says. It sounds harsher than it should have. “Sorry, it’s just…”

James shakes his head. “No, understandable. Given the circumstances.”

“We’re looking for diaries,” Pat says loudly. “Not Anthony’s, his Mum’s.”

“Of course,” says James, now very much standing in the middle of Anthony bedroom. “Is this where Thomas thinks the answer is? The diaries, not your bedroom of course.”

Anthony shrugs, “hmmm, well… possibly. I’d pretty much moved out when she died. Already in Manchester in digs. She could have hidden something in here,” he says to both men but mostly James. Today there is no purple polo shirt only a tight long sleeved Under Armour T-shirt, blue jeans and walking boots. God in heaven above Anthony thinks before remembering what he was saying before his eyes caught the Under Armour top. “…but I don’t think so. I had a good look when I moved back – checked there was nothing left behind, but there wasn’t.”

“Ey up, who’s this?” Pat says suddenly causing the other two men to turn around. “A skeleton? Is this who I think it is? I’ve heard a lot about him.”

Anthony nods at the question, “Mick.”

“He’s a beauty.”

“Why do you have a skeleton in your room?” The question is from James. “Apart from the obvious – you, being a Doctor of course, but why is it here?”

Anthony shrugs again. “I’m not sure. Well, no, I am sure. I think we are both…he’s not really settled himself yet, found his place,” he says, pretending it’s not one the weirdest thing he’s ever said. “I keep moving him around the room, but nowhere feels right yet.”

“Sounds like you are rather attached to him?”

“Hmmm, I am I suppose. He’s not real, before you ask. Resin.”

“Well, that’s something.”

“Right… I’m calling it. There’s nought in ‘ere. Ruddy pointless. Thomas will just have to look somewhere else,” Pat suddenly says.

“Oh.”

“Oh… Sounds like I wasn’t really needed.”

“Probably not Cap, but teamwork makes a team, work,” Pat says suddenly marching out the door.

“Quite.”

“So.”

“So.”

“I better be going,” James says, his eyes still darting about the room. They land on a couple of hastily stuck-up photo’s Anthony found amongst his moving boxes. “Is that you? Dressed as…?”

“Ah. Guilty as. University. Tarts and Vicar’s evening. Hard to explain - terribly non - PC now I suspect. There was a foam party if I remember rightly. The hair’s my own. I was rocked the long-haired look as a Clinical Trainee.”

“You look…?”

“Drunk. The word you are looking for is drunk…”

“Right.”

“Freshers week as such.”

“And are you still in contact with these people?”

Anthony nods before scrunching his nose up. “Some. Most are married, kids, divorce, remarried, the chap on the right – with the pink wig, he lives in America. It rather feels like a different time and place now.”

“Right… well… yes… good to know…I better be off then.”

“Of course. I should shower and get into work. My first appointment is 2.30pm today.”

“Oh. Yes. I wouldn’t want to hold you up.”

“No, best not.”

“I…I I I was wondering will I see you up by the bench again this week?”

 For reasons beyond his control the question makes Anthony smile far more than it should damn it. “I think so. Shall we say Thursday?”

“Thursday it is.”

Chapter Text

“So, tell me more about you and Dr Bone please.”

Since his grand re-entry back into Button House society Anthony has found himself routinely eating lunch at Button House café and today is no different, even though it’s weekend. He started rationalising the visits by informing anyone who listens (mostly Kitty who likes to give him lectures in-between patients about good and bad cholesterol) that the food there is much better than he could cook himself and yes, he compensates by having a smaller dinner in the evening.

Today though, it’s too early for lunch so instead he is eating a full breakfast and for the first time in a few weeks, Fanny has joined him.

For once she looks well rested, put together and less like a woman on the edge Anthony thinks. She’s worn an expression of anger constantly since Julian’s meeting and Anthony heard her twice yesterday bite the man’s head off as he badgered her for information.

“What was that?” she finally answers. Innocence personified.

“You and Humphrey. I saw him leave Button House at 8.30am yesterday. I’m surprised he made in time for this 9am with Mrs Bradshaw. He looked exhausted all day.”

“Really Anthony, please,” Fanny says, this time scanning the room to make sure no one has heard him say something so scandalous.

“Well? Don’t look so shocked, everyone knows – the whole bloody village knows. Mrs Ratcliffe told me all about you two during her routine medication review last week. How longs it been going on? Is he suitable? Does his family come from money? What are his prospects?” he asks with a cackle.

“You sound like father.”

God no. “Hey! You know I’m only joking, I couldn’t give a shit about who you have a relationship with Fanny, if he treats you right and with respect then crack on. But quietly, eh? It’s not the sort of thing you want to hear your sister doing.”

Fanny sighs, she’s blushing a little, but Anthony doesn’t care, it’s good to see her looking happily flustered. “Properly over 18 months, maybe longer,” she begins with a pause. “We got close after the new surgery opened just before the pandemic hit. He finalised his divorce, came for tea and then well… I was so lonely Ant, after Dad died – I’d spent so much time looking after him. I was scared for the house too. You know we had no proper income for nearly a year. And he treats me so well, makes me laugh, doesn’t give a toss about who my family are…it just happened.”

Anthony smiles at his sister, “sometimes it happens that way. Catches you unaware.”

“It does. How are you doing anyway? Are you feeling more settled, I know coming back here wasn’t your first choice. You’ve not heard from Graham, have you? I’ve been worried he will try to work his way back in.”

He shakes his head in response. “No, not a peep. A few friends have been in contact, informed me that the other guy has moved in – had a ‘moving in’ party that was a riot from what I can gather. Heard from a couple of GP Surgeries though, offering me locum positions – don’t worry I declined, for now anyway.”

“Have you told Humphrey this? He’s rather keen for you to stay,” Fanny asks taking a quick glance at her watch as she does so. “I’m meeting him for lunch,” she says as a way of explanation.

“I told him. Informed me he would probably do the same in my position.”

“He said as much to me when I asked him about it. But think about it seriously – about staying Ant. It’s been good to have you back home these past few months.” She takes a moment before continuing. “I don’t blame you for escaping to London. The way father treated you was terribly unfair. I would have done the same if it was me, or I’d like to think I would anyway. You were very brave.”

Anthony isn’t sure about that and pulls a face at her words.

“No, you where, I can see the cogs spinning. You took a risk, dropped the Button name, and just flew solo whereas me and Thomas stayed here.”

“I didn’t really have a choice Fan. I couldn’t stay.”

“I know.”

“Can I be honest?”

“Always Ant, always.”

“I think Father was rather hoping at one time I’d be the one to take over,” Anthony openly admits for the first time. His father did rather favour him at one time, taking him to London regularly, social engagements that sort of thing. Anthony enjoyed it too. He’d loved travelling to the city centre and announced on more than one occasion he was going to live there when he grew up. But when the trips stopped suddenly, and his father had no time for him, Anthony remembered feeling bereft and lonely. “When I came out and I didn’t fit his mould…” he says with a frown.

Fanny frowns also, reaching over to grab his hand. “I know. We all knew. Even Mother.”

“Didn’t feel like it. She was so angry when I told her. I blamed myself you know… for the aneurysm. The stress and hurt I caused.”

“Oh, Anthony no…” Fanny says softly, no doubt very aware they are sat in a semi crowded café. She reaches out to grab his hand, their fingers linking softly.

“Silly, isn’t it?” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “One minute she was there, the next not. I was so angry with her for going. Thomas even more.”

“I think we all were a little. But no one knew. Not even mother – you aren’t to blame yourself anymore Anthony please. Father was never same afterwards.”

Anthony sighs and takes a sip of his coffee, “anyway father’s not here now though, is he? Unless he’s haunting the place, getting annoyed that some Doctor is creeping out of his daughter’s room at 8.30 in the morning.”

Fanny chuckles, she blushes slightly, giving his hand a light slap. “Goodness, can you imagine. No, let’s not, but you know what Button House is like, it holds onto things. Doesn’t let them leave. All that shouting he did, and the names he called you, they hung in the air for a long time. Even after Mother died.”

She was right, they had and still did. Even now he can still hear his father’s voice rattling along the corridors. Seething with anger at Anthony, threatening to kick him out the house, white with rage and throwing out obscenities - Anthony would die in hell of a killer disease, was a degenerate, dirty, not his son.

“In hindsight,” Anthony says with a pause and a wink, hoping to lift the mood slightly. “I probably should have hidden that ancient porn video he found in a better place.”

The memory of that incident is engrained in Anthony’s brain.

“OH, ANTHONY PLEASE! Gosh what a day that was. I think that was the nail in the coffin although he was always rather stressed with something or other. Wherever did you get that, by the way? I always wanted to ask.”  

Anthony raises his eyebrow, “erm, remember that gardener we had, the tall one, blonde hair.”

“Darryl? Everyone fancied him, remember Hayley, one of the maids, back when we had maids for god’s sake – rumour has it she got pregnant by him.”

“That’s the one.”

“And he was the one that gave you the DVD?” Fanny’s eyes were now wide.

“Hmmm.”

“He gave it to you?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Anthony please!” Fanny throws her head back and laughs loudly. “Goodness me. He was rather handsome.”

“Nice arse as well,” he continues with a wink.

“An-tho-ny, I’m not sure I needed to know that. Poor Hayley. Anyway, I for one, am glad you are back. What are you doing for the rest of the day anyway? Humphrey is taking me for a day out to the RHS place up the road for lunch and walk if you want to come.”

Anthony shakes his head; he has other plans – not that he is going to tell her what they are. He’s keeping some cards close to his chest. “No, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone, I’m going to nip into town then go for a walk – maybe over towards the Surgery and woodland. See what else I’ve accidentally signed off on over the years. Rain check? Yes?”

“It’s a date.”

Chapter Text

What should be a quick trip into the village for some lunch turns into a social event and by the time Anthony walks back to his car, it’s already 1pm.

He planned to leave a little earlier.

After breakfast with Fanny and returning to the main house, expertly avoiding two visitor tours being led by Thomas and Pat. He changed into his decent walking shoes and clothes, grabbed his rucksack, and left with the intent to be at Caps Folly by lunchtime.

Of course, what he didn’t taken into consideration is that being a GP in a small village everyone knows your name.

Not that they didn’t know his name anyway, he was the ‘Gay Button Son’ who ran off to the city, according to a patient he’d seen earlier that week. When he had told Humphrey and Kitty about the conversation over lunch, Humphrey had thought it was hilarious, whereas Kitty had looked sad, ‘people can be so unkind,’ she had said before taking a bite of a prawn sandwich.

None of this helped the fact that he is now going to be late.

His plan had been to walk up to The Folly and have lunch with James. Not that they had arranged anything formal but what had started as a casual meet and greet when they were both out and about on the estate turned into a regular meet up.  

At the café.

During a village cricket match.

At the bench again.

They had even exchanged mobile numbers at some point over the past few weeks. Anthony had been taken aback a little when James asked out of the blue. ‘Maybe I can keep you abreast of what’s going on in the park?’ James said upon handing over his number. Anthony didn’t want to inform the man was already in Pat’s “Button(s) in da House” WhatsApp group that pretty much had the same purpose. Of course, that chat was filled with gifs – mostly from Robin and Pat who conducted full conversations using only pictures from Star Wars interspersed with updates on a lost child in Fanny’s precious gardens.    

Admittedly he and James didn’t really say much to one another in their own chat group. Nothing Star Wars related anyway. No, their conversation was surprisingly limited to intermittent photos of things they found interesting.

Sunrise at The Folly <image attached>

Kitty is wearing illuminous green boots today <Image attached>

Good Morning from me and the girls (deer) <image attached>

Mick says good morning back <image attached>

Bluebells galore! <image attached>

Ham or Cheese? <image attached>

By the time Anthony reaches Button House though it’s gone 2pm and he’s persuaded himself it far too late in the day to casually arrive at The Folly with a lunchtime picnic. James might not even be there, he decides, or he may have company or eaten lunch already and Anthony is going to feel stupid for turning up.

He really is a bit useless at this sort of thing.

Not that there is a ‘thing’ of course, but it has been nice to find someone to talk too away from the surgery and house who didn’t insist on dragging him around Button House looking for their parent’s diaries. Not that he minds doing that too much, the quicker they sort out this peerage mess the better, but he didn’t want to spend every waking moment like Thomas ruminating about would happen if he was the first-born Button son.

James had asked him as such during their last meet up at the bench. Anthony remembered waving off the question without comment which he realised later was incredibly rude of him. It hadn’t helped receiving a phone call from a GP that he used to work for offering him a contract during their time together.

James left the bench pretty much straight after that, muttering something about the September rutting season.

Afterwards Anthony felt pretty crap leaving the man hanging and spent the evening apologising profusely to him via WhatsApp message about bad timing and asking him questions about stags. In the end James sent him a photo of his ‘Chef Stag’ Monty who commanded the platoon (herd).

Magnificent Beast <image attached>

A fine specimen – reminds me of Mick <image attached>

I don’t think that’s the same thing.

Mick has been about a bit, likes the ladies – it’s exactly the same.

Monty’s horns <image attached>

Micks <image attached>

That’s not even…

A few days later however, Anthony is still feeling unsettled about the way their last conversation ended, which is why he is now out buying food for an impromptu lunch at The Folly.

The fact that Anthony finds James easy on the eye was irreverent – the man was good company and Anthony would never do anything about it.

Not at all.

James is as straight as a dice and Anthony is absolutely staying away from men for a while, the thought of even being with someone else should be well down the list.

If James isn’t home, Anthony tells himself as he makes his way along the single-track road, he can sit and eat his lunch in peace. Carpe diem and all that. “Sod it. If he’s not there, he’s not there, I’m perfectly fine with my own company,” he says to an empty car park.

Rather than stop at the bench Anthony takes the plunge anyway and navigates his car (taking his car means he has a quick escape if required) to where The Folly is located. Hidden on a small outcrop of land that Anthony knows can only be viewed from one direction, he pulls the vehicle into what looks like a makeshift car parking space next to a septic tank.

In the distance is The Folly and to his relief, James.

“Arh, you’re still here!” he shouts towards the small building, walking up the small path to the front door taking in the view. James had been right when he had said Fanny had allowed him to modify the place a little. Up to now he's walked past the place when he ends up in this area, but even Anthony can see the building has doubled in size. It has new windows, a decorative octagonal structure, and a beautifully painted green door, but that’s not what is catching Anthony’s attention right now.

James is stood alone on his deck, coffee mug in hand, wearing a loose jumper with a white t-shirt underneath, jeans, and bare feet. He looks like he has just walked out of a fashion shoot for a catalogue.  

“Is that you Havers?”

“Yes, sorry, it’s only me, do you mind? I bought lunch with me if you haven’t eaten already,” he says rather too cheerily as he strides onto the deck. “Had a spare afternoon, thought I’d finally come and check out this place, sort of a you’ve seen mine; I see yours type of thing. Not that I am asking to see your bedroom of course.”

“Oh.”

“I mean if you aren’t busy?”

“No not at all… I’m just… the river is high with the rain, keeping an eye on it – we’ve had some flooding in one of the fields with all this rain… I should offer you a drink, would you like a drink?”

“Erm, if you are making, then yes, coffee, no sugar.”

“Of course.”

By the time James returns, coffee mug in hand, Anthony’s emptied his rucksack of food onto the wooden picnic table. “Sorry,” he says rather sheepishly, maybe he has gone over the top. “I’ve bought too much everything, anything you don’t fancy leave and I’ll have for my tea later.”

“No, no, it looks rather splendid. I haven’t eaten yet; I sometimes get distracted watching the river and forget. Looks like it might burst its banks in places. I was going to send you a photo of it.”

Anthony laughs quietly. “Still send it. Your photos are rather good. Better than mine anyway.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” James replies with a chuckle. “I think it’s the first time I’ve been sent a photo of a skeleton’s ‘horn’.”

“Mick will be honoured when I tell him you were his first ‘horn pic’.”

“Really? You speak to him? I mean I know you do but-.”

“All the time, been through a lot have me and Mick. Graham hated him, made me hide him in one of cupboards. Said it was creepy.”

“Well, it’s just a skeleton, we all have them.”

Anthony nods his head with a smile. “As a qualified Doctor I can confirm we do yes, anyway, I have sandwiches, and pastries. Some fruit also – Kitty will be proud of me.”

“Sounds good.” James replies with a little bounce onto the balls of his bare feet, “eat up and I will show you inside The Folly.”

They finish most of the food Anthony brings, except a banana which James reports himself to be allergic too and some carrot sticks Anthony didn’t like the look of.

“Throw them down the embankment towards the river,” James says rising slowly out of his chair, launching the offending articles into the air. “The wildlife will make short change of them.”

Anthony follows suit by throwing an apple core. It lands all the way in the river with a plop. “Oh, sorry I got a bit carried away then.”

“Never mind, that’s quite the right arm spin you have there, and don’t worry the fish will have it. Do… do… you want to have a look then? At the Folly, that is. I wasn’t expecting visitor’s mind you. It’s probably a bit of a mess.”

The place isn’t a mess, it’s immaculate.

“Is this what you call a mess James? This looks like it’s been serviced by professionals,” Anthony says eyeing the open plan kitchen, dining, and lounge area.

“You’ll recognise this bit I suspect. That’s the extension other there,” James says pointing towards where a large sofa and an extra wide screen TV are located.

Anthony had always thought the original folly building was beautiful even as a ruin. It was octagonal in shape, tiled floors, and thick walls. The extension looks like it has been built with the same care. Large patio style doors which open out onto the river, a telescope, walls full of artwork and photographs. A small bathroom sits off to the side. There’s no formal dining area, instead there are two rather expensive looking wooden bar stools tucked up against a breakfast bar. The kitchen houses a large range cooker and a mini-American style fridge freezer.

“That’s quite the TV,” Anthony says, his gaze returning to the TV. “What on earth do you watch on that?”

“Oh, you know…documentaries… tanks… super machines…” James replies coyly, a slight blush forming on his cheeks.

“Kitty told me about your love for all things tank like.”

“Katherine is a gossip.”

“She thinks enough of you to call you Uncle – why is that anyway? It hasn’t felt appropriate to ask her if I am being honest.”

“I knew her father,” James says with a cough, arms locked behind his back, parade ready Anthony notes. “Served with him, unfortunately he was killed in Basra, mortar attack. After he was killed she started calling me Uncle.”

“Oh, I am sorry, I didn’t mean to-.” He sometimes forgets that James is ex-army and has probably done a million and one more heroic things in his life than Anthony has.   

James shakes his head and waves his hand. “No, it’s okay, that’s him there, on the wall,” he says pointing to a photo of two soldiers in dress uniform. “Katherine tells me I need to talk about these things and not bottle it up. Derek was a good friend. A fine soldier. We had each other’s back. She’s the reason I came to Button House. She took a job at the old surgery and dragged me with her a year later, said it would be good for me.”

Anthony stares at the photo – it’s slightly more formal than the ones he has stuck in his bedroom. Less make up anyway.

James hasn’t changed much though – not really. There’s no moustache at this point, and he looks very young, but there’s a hint of the man he still is now in there. Firm back, upright, decent.

“Was it good for you, the move here?” Anthony enquires, studying the photographs.

“Hmmm yes, I believe so. I lived just outside Hereford when I was in the army and stayed there – in hindsight that may have not been the best thing.”

“Oh?”

“Too close. Can’t say why, top secret, but I had some friends, still serving – but it all got rather too much, so when Kitty qualified and was successful getting a job here, she suggested I follow.”

“And you just followed?”

“Yes… no… it took some persuading I can admit, but… yes… I stayed at Hereford for the wrong reasons.”

“I think we can all be guilty of staying where we shouldn’t.”

“Well… yes… hmmm… such is life.”

For the first time since arriving at The Folly, Anthony suddenly feels like he is imposing himself on the man’s private space. Bringing lunch, asking to see his home. Asking the sort of questions that could upset someone. It’s all feels rather… well… Anthony isn’t sure how he feels.

He is attracted to James, there is no doubt – the man is walking thirst trap to coin one of Kitty’s phases (she uses it especially when talking about a new Gladiator called Nitro). But Anthony’s realised James is also good company – they discuss food, wine, beer, and the cricket scores. Anthony recounts stories about London and has told him the full Graham debacle. James even shared that he had been in a relationship with someone for ten years only for it to end suddenly and that Fanny trusting him with a job that he had had hardly any experience in had pretty much saved his life.

‘That what she does,’ Anthony told him. ‘She reads people better than anyone I know.’

Still, Anthony’s pretty sure it’s beginning to feel a little intrusive. “You kept the spiral staircase also, and… and the fireplace looks fabulous,” he asks with a rush, saying the first thing that pops into his head.

If James notices anything is wrong, he doesn’t say anything, “ah yes, the scene of your crime. Not the staircase… the fireplace. Although didn’t you say something about search parties?”

Anthony laughs nervously, “please, don’t remind me. You’ve done a lovely job James. It’s fabulous. I’m glad you are looking after her,” Anthony adds with a pause. “The Folly deserves some love. Anyway, right well, I better get off. Thomas has demanded I look for journals with him when visiting time is over.”

It’s not a lie. Thomas has demanded help.

“Yes, the peerage stuff. Are you any clearer what’s gone on?”  

Anthony shakes his head again, his brows knotting together. They aren’t, worryingly. Thomas is like a dog with bone and has only gotten worse since March when the whole thing kicked off. Fanny is working herself into the ground and Julian is walking around Button House like he owns the place even more so than usual.

“It’s complex.”

“I can imagine, well I can’t because I’ve never been in your situation. Although I probably would be as reluctant about the whole peerage thing as you have been,” James says referring to another conversation they had had one day sat on the bench.

When Anthony had explained a little more about his relationship with his father, James had seemed to understand Anthony thought sometime later. ‘I already have one title that I earned; I care not for another I didn’t,’ Anthony had said quite firmly at the time.

“I’m sure it will work itself out,” he now says not believing a word of it.

“Quite, yes, well, pom pom, I better let you go if you insist. I say Havers, if you are interested, and it’s entirely up to you of course, I work half days on Wednesday – we could have lunch again? I will cook something?”

“Absolutely,” Anthony answers, wondering at what point he has become ‘Havers’.

Chapter Text

Good Morning – Clear skies over the Folly last night <image attached>

---

Anthony has just enough time to pull the duvet cover over him before Thomas bursts through his bedroom door, immediately closing it with a slam.

“He’s up to something!” Thomas shouts before stopping and eyeing up Anthony’s frantic attempts to cover his body. “Are you naked? You sleep naked?”

“What?!”

“Do you sleep naked? Good lord brother. Did you pick this habit up in London?”

Before Anthony can answer, the door bursts open again, this time it’s a pyjama clad Fanny, the wings of a teddy bear dressing gown flapping behind her closely followed by a sleepy looking Humphrey who immediately on seeing Mick gives him a quick army salute. “Stand easy soldier.”

It’s 5.30am.

“He sleeps naked!” Thomas announces to the new arrivals like the next few minutes depend on what Anthony wears to bed.  

“You absolute heathen.” Humphrey quickly says before turning to give Anthony a wink and going on to ask, “did you get called out last night?”

Anthony confirms with a nod, “1am, Mrs O’Toole. Refusing to use her nebuliser. Carer was beside herself. I got her settled. No ambulance.”

“Good stuff,” Humphrey replies with a cheery smile. It’s completely at odds with the mock Darth Vader suit pyjama set he’s wearing. “I’ll call her daughter later.”  

“Sod Mrs O’Toole, this is about Julian.”

“Thomas please, it’s 5.30am, could this not wait?” Fanny asks finally. She looks exhausted again, but then again who wouldn’t at this time in the morning.

Busy as he has been at the surgery (Humphrey hadn’t been wrong about that), Anthony forgets that his sister is running a business and wrangles both Thomas and Julian daily. If it’s not the building itself that’s falling apart, it’s the lake or the public toilets. They’d had a record year visitor wise, he found out at the last quarterly meeting. The summer months had been good for Button House; the place had been filled with kids and the Strawberry Fayre Pat had organised with local makers markets had been fabulous. So with all that going on, it’s a miracle to Anthony that she sleeps at all.

“Absolutely not!” Thomas shouts, apparently undeterred by what time it is or Mrs O’Toole’s breathing troubles. “I’ve done some more digging,” he announces before dumping the contents of a box file onto bed.

Anthony sighs, rubbing at his eyes with his hands, “okay?”

“And mother is behind all this, but I think she did it for a reason.”

“Thom-.”

“Listen, Father wasn’t at our births. Well, I lie, he attended the first, which he notes in his diary,” Thomas states, grabbing a leather-bound book and opening a page marked with a pink label. “6^th January, 9pm, child born. Left for club immediately to celebrate’. Doesn’t mention whether it’s a boy or girl – which considering the fuss he makes of it later, is astounding. Reading between the lines he wasn't an active participant in Mother's pregnancy and spent most of it in London. The next entry is on the 10^th of January, no doubt after he’s got over the shock of there being three of us - ‘Three children in total. Two boys, one girl. Only Geraldine could fail to tell me she was expecting triplets. Yet to confirm successor out of the males. One boy is quiet, yet alert, the other loud. Female child yet to make a sound – looks angry.”

“Father of the year right-,” Humphrey starts to mumble before catching the hard glare Fanny throws in his direction.

Thomas ignores him, “it goes on. ‘15^th January; My wife is still unable to confirm birth order of the boys, suspect she is being difficult. Her blasted mother and the Midwife also uncooperative – says she was too busy as maternity ward was full. Have asked Barclay if test can be completed to determine – says not. Shocking stuff, it’s 1982 for goodness sake!’ 17^th January; ‘Boy 1 Anthony Joseph Havers Button, Boy 2 Thomas Joseph Thorne Button, Female Stephanie Josephine Colebrooke Button. Still no confirmation of order. Have asked Geraldine how long she is going to continue with this charade. Have moved into spare room.”  

“That’s where he stayed as well,” Fanny says with a tut, “never moved back.”

“There wasn’t much love between them at times Humphrey,” Anthony offers as a way of explanation of his parents sleeping arrangements to his boss. “It was all show, the titles, Lord and Lady Button, House of Lords. Attended Charles and Di’s wedding, walked into St Paul’s Cathedral looking like the perfect couple.”

“Jesus,” Humphrey whispers. “That’s some networking that.”

Thomas is on a roll though, if he’s heard any part of Anthony’s and Humphrey’s conversation he isn’t acknowledging it. His hair is wild, expression fixed. It reminds Anthony of mother when she had a bee in her bonnet, “after that entry he just mumbles on about heirs, a lot. Mother had him over a barrel about it.” Thomas says finally closing the leather journal and dumping back on the bed.

“So where does Julian come into this?” Humphrey asks as if he hasn’t been paying attention for the past few months.

Anthony grins broadly, “he wants the peerage. He wants to get back into government and he knows no one will vote for him, so this is the only way.”

“Of course he does!”

“Very Palatine like. If he starts talking about cloning you guys need to be worried”

“Noted Humph, noted. No Julian knows none of us three want the damn thing – or can’t have it in his and father’s eyes – that’s what he is relying on – sorry no offence Fanny-.”

“None taken Ant.”

“So, what’s the next best thing? Him!” Thomas interjects. “We really do need to find mother’s diary. She’s bound to have written it down. Any more ideas? I’m out. Searched this place from top to bottom. I’m surprised I found Father’s journal so easily. That library is like a goldmine, by the way Fanny, found a couple of first editions. We could fix the air conditioning system if we sold a couple of them.”

Anthony almost wants to laugh. “You know James said Julian was up to something months ago. Told me as much.”

“James? Who is James?”

“Cap?”

Anthony nods once. Ah. Yes. He suddenly feels very naked and very much under the spotlight. He hasn’t mentioned to Fanny, Thomas, or Humphrey his now weekly lunch ‘dates’ with Button House’s estate manager.

“You’ve been talking to Cap? What about? He doesn’t talk to anyone. I don’t even know what his last name is, what is his last name Fanny?” Thomas’ asks shrilly.   

“It’s…” Anthony starts. Perhaps now though wasn’t the best time to go into this. “Listen, I visited Mother and Father’s graves when I first came back and we ran into one another,” he offers up by way of some explanation.

“You go to their graves?!”

Shit.

“I went to look at them, I wanted some fresh air and maybe to rant at our father, instead James thought I was lost visitor and we stopped to chat. Nothing more.”

Fanny is indignant though, “you never go to the graves, you didn’t even go for father’s funeral, and yet you go up there to meet someone for lunch?”

“Once or twice?” Anthony answers scrunching up his nose. It was more like twice weekly for the last couple of months. They take turns to bring food. James makes a very good scotch egg and quiche and last week he’d promised to make Anthony banana bread even though he was allergic to them.

“Is this what it’s always been like at 6am in the morning when you’re all under one roof?” Humphrey says, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I haven’t even had coffee yet.”

Now its Fanny who is on a roll. “Hang on Humphrey shush, let me get this straight Anthony, you have lunch with my estate manager regularly? No wonder he comes back to work looking flustered in the afternoon.”

Good to know he is flustering the man. “It’s not everyday Fan. I can’t be held responsible for flustering the man every day.”

Wednesday’s, Friday’s, some Saturdays are all down to him though.

“It’s enough for him to tell Anthony he thinks Julian is up to something!”

“Dear god,” Humphrey huffs, falling back onto the duvet near Anthony’s feet, arm flung over his eyes. The fact that his boss is lying on his bed, inches from his naked body isn’t something Anthony sure he can process right now. “Why does Cap think Julian is up to something?” Humphrey continues. “There I’ll ask it; I mean there’s no point in leaving this room until the subject been thoroughly dissected. Warning though, I’ve got a clinic to run at 9am.”

“He just said he thought it was odd. Felt forced, like he had an agenda.” Anthony says eventually.

Thomas stares at him. “Apparently our estate manager is slightly more astute than we thought Fanny.”

Fanny pulls an expression that Anthony knows well, “something like that yes.” She says with pursed lips.

---

“Heads up,” Anthony says, as he takes his normal seat on the bench and crosses his legs. “My sister, brother and boss are aware we meet for lunch and conversation.”

“Ah.”

“Not that it should matter a dot, but I just wanted to warn you if either or all of them ask you about it.”

It’s been a few hours since Thomas, Fanny and Humphrey burst into his room at Button House. They left only when Anthony reminded them that he was naked underneath the duvet and now he was awake, he needed to use the bathroom and if they didn’t move they were going to get more than an eyeful.

He could see they wanted more information about his lunches with James, but in truth he didn’t know what to tell them.

They have lunch, they talk, that was it.

The fact that Anthony thinks Fanny’s estate manager is quite frankly one the most handsome men he had ever had the pleasure of dining with, and that he can’t stop thinking about him is another thing. He isn’t sure if it’s the Chino’s, the tight t-shirts or the moustache, Anthony hasn’t decided, but somewhere deep in Anthony these past few months, James has begun taking up space.

Not that he will tell the man of course, or ever would, that’s for sure. He is a potential patient for a kick off and Anthony still hasn’t decided if is going to return to London. But more importantly it would be bad form to lose his license to practice over a man.  

“Do you think Stephanie will ask us to stop meeting?” asks the man himself, he is holding two matching Tupperware boxes filled with what looks like pasta and two forks. “Beef Ragu and salad. Home made last night, I warmed it up for you, be careful,” he says confirming what Anthony suspected.

Anthony sighs, relieving the man of one of the Tupperware boxes. He’s not sure when he thinks about it. “I don’t think so,” he reassures himself. “We just have lunch; it’s not like we are planning a worker’s revolt or anything like that. It’s been months. I think if we were going to cause any sort of trouble, we’d have done it by now.”

“Hmmm.”

“She’s probably more concerned about you than me to be honest James, which you could interpret multiple ways if you think about it. I might be corrupting you. For all you know I could be grooming you into storming the barricades for Julian and you wouldn’t know it. Speaking of our slippery ex MP, my brother is currently waging war on him having turned into Miss Marple overnight. Finally found my Dad’s journal – woke us at 5.30am to tell us all.”

“Really? And?”

“And it tells us nothing, only that my Mother was a crafty bugger and kept information close to her heart, including that there was 3 of us. Thomas is on the hunt for her diaries again now, mostly at night so Julian can’t disturb him. He’s creeping about the place like a ninja. Scared the life out of Pat the other day climbing out the cellar. I’ve ever seen a man’s life flash before him, but I have now. This is good ragu by the way James, have I ever told you you’d make someone a lovely husband?”

---

Dragonflies over the river <image attached>

The state of this car park again, who do I complain to to LOL <image attached>

Chapter Text

I have 2 tickets for Lancashire v Hampshire on the 20th, are you free? <image attached>

Indeed. Googlies all round.

---

“Where are you off to now and where did you go last Friday?”

It’s 3pm and Anthony is about to restock the medical bag he keeps in his car when he hears Kitty and Humphrey call to him from the treatment room.

“What on earth are you doing? That bed isn’t supposed to go that high,” he asks at the sight that greets him when he walks through the door. It’s not the first time he has found Humphrey lying on the treatment room bed having what he describes as a ‘quiet moment’, but it’s the first time Anthony has seen him lay on it 5ft off the floor on it, remote control in hand.

“You didn’t answer my question, where are you off to?” Humphrey says, ignoring Anthony’s question in favour of his own.

“Home, Dr Humphrey Bone,” Anthony answers briskly. He dumps his medical bag on the counter, emptying it quickly. He needs wipes, plasters, and eye wash having used the last lot at the recent Button House XII cricket match when a fight broke out between the wicket keeper and the bowler (there was historical ‘beef’ between them apparently). “Well, I might stop off for some food first then go home. Is that okay?”

“Bloody unfair is what is it, I’m here until 6pm,” Humphrey mutters, hydraulics whirling as he moves the bed back down to a more neutral height.

“Perks of the locum GP Doctor, also some of us were on call last night.”

“Well, some of us,” Humphrey replies. “Spent our evening knee deep in cobwebs and antique furniture looking for diaries.”

“Still no luck?” Kitty finally asks. Up until this point she’s been sat quietly doing her patient case notes ignoring them both.  

Humphrey shakes his head, “nah yet, no. Thomas feels he is close though. Say’s he can sense it like he is some sort of Jedi. I’ve offered to buy him a toy light saber to see if that helps any.”

Anthony chuckles. Thomas is getting rather fanatical about it all. He is currently moving room by room (of which Button House has many) crossing off the areas of the house he’s searched on a set of copied floor plans.

Anthony would be proud of his brother for his organisation skills if it wasn’t for the fact the man had overturned Anthony’s bedroom without permission a second time earlier that week. On that occasion he came home to find Mick stood out in the hallway looking like a lost soul and Thomas muttering something about dirty underwear.

That said, Anthony still felt obligated to stick his head through the attic room door to wish Thomas all luck the previous evening. For good measure he then took a photo of said room and sent it to James.

               Room for one more helper if you are not doing anything <image attached>

Is that a naked mannequin stood in the corner?

Yes, I’ve not told Mick about it.

Worried he’ll want to move up here for a while and pester her.

The man’s an absolute rogue

“Anyway, I better go, some of us have a trashy Netflix reality series to catch up and a brother to avoid,” Anthony announces, bag now fully restocked.

In reality, he’s going nowhere near Netflix unless it involves a ‘chill’ at some point – and he can’t see that happening in the near future. No today, he’s meeting James for food and a walk along the river. Button House’s estate manager wants to take him on a reconnaissance mission (James’ words) to where the new jetty is going to be constructed for the next salmon season.

“Before you go, you never answered my other question. Where were you Friday – it was the patient and carer group – I needed reinforcements.” Humphrey asks, watching Anthony pick up his bag to leave the room.

“Hmmm… erm, the cricket.” It isn’t a lie.

“The cricket? What cricket?”

“Yes, Lancashire v Hampshire. A fine game.” Also, not a lie. Hampshire won.

“Oh, Uncle James went there also, did you see him?”

“It was quite a busy day Kitty, very busy, lots of people,” Anthony coughs, talking a step closer towards the door and freedom.

Kitty is rather innocent at times Anthony has come to realise and sometimes her brain needs a little longer to work things out. Medical stuff? A walking encyclopaedia. Day to day stuff? Well… see all the above.

Humphrey on the other hand is the exact opposite – he’s a sharp as a knife and currently his face is full of glee. “Marvellous. Bloody marvellous,” he says with a smirk.

“So, you didn’t see him then?” Kitty asks, her smile broad and innocent like. “He does like cricket, not as much as tanks though.”

Anthony’s voice stumbles over itself. “We…we might have bumped into one another during play.” It’s a complete lie of course. They bumped into one another outside The Folly, drove there together, ate a wonderful lunch, drank a pint of real ale each, watched some excellent cricket, only returning to Button House at midnight. “We might have ended up sat close to another.”

“How wonderful.” Kitty’s smile is almost terrifying.

---

The drive to The Folly takes Anthony about 25 minutes. According to Apple Maps it should only take him 15 but he’d been stopped outside the surgery by two cosplayers dressed up in military garb, complete with fake blood stains similar to the characters from the movie filmed at Button House.

Over the past few months, Anthony’s grown rather fond of this group of people, even more so when he tells them that he and his siblings had been extras in the film. Of course, disclosing that snippet of information usually ends up with him starring in what feels like hundreds of selfies and being tagged on Instagram by Thomas as pay back apparently. So, when the two visitors ask him for directions to the museum and tour, rather than leave them to make their own way up to Button House he drops them off at the end of the driveway.

“Enjoy the tour! Pom pom!” he says rather too brightly and inexplicably as they exit his car and begin walk up the driveway.

Once they are out of sight, Anthony turns his vehicle onto the road leading up to The Folly and to where he hopes James will be okay with him changing into more suitable clothing.

Pulling his car into its normal space, Anthony grabs the rucksack containing his spare pair of clothes and makes his way up the stone garden pathway and The Folly’s green door.

“James? Are you here?” Anthony shouts, not seeing the man either at his usual spot on the deck or by the wood pile. The quad bike is here, so he must be about, Anthony decides, although for once it’s parked rather haphazardly at the edge of the path. He’s taken to poking fun at James’ treatment of his precious quad bike, ‘does it have a name? Everything should have a name,’ Anthony asks one lunchtime. Of course, James denies the accusations until the cows came home only to slip up and call it ‘Sherman’ one Sunday morning.

Today feels different though. Normally, James parks ‘Sherman’ neatly into a small space to the right of the deck by his Land Rover and covers it with a tarp and yet here it is standing abandoned in the middle of the trackway.

The Folly’s door is partially open too, which is a strange enough for Anthony’s heckles to rise on his neck.

“JAMES!” he shouts again. The man could be down by the river of course, scoping out fishing grounds as he likes to do every now and again, but something about the scene just doesn’t feel right.    

Then he notices a trail of blood that leads all the way from the quad bike to the front door.

And then a bloody handprint.

Holy shit.

“JAMES!” he shouts for a third time.

He’s not panicking at all, he’s not. He’s dealt with worse scenes during an A&E shift back during his training he tells himself. Pushing the front door open further and stepping inside The Folly, he does do without an apparent a care for his own safety.

Fools rush in and all that.  

“Are you there? James?”

“Havers?”

The voice is coming from the kitchen area.

“Oh my god,” Anthony exclaims as he runs in and sees the sight in front of him. Whatever he’d been expecting it wasn’t James stood hunched over by the breakfast bar covered in blood and mud (Anthony decides to ignore the latter for the moment) holding a tea towel to his head. “What on earth’s happened?” he asks wide eyed.

“There was a deer. A doe.”

“A deer?” he repeats. It’s not a question, but Anthony’s next line is. “How..? Why..?” he asks a little too sharply.

Rather than wait for an answer Anthony strides over to James. He grabs another tea towel as he passes the oven, pushing away James’ hand, replacing it with his own. “A deer did this to you?”

“I’m okay.”

“You are absolutely not okay. This is like that bloody scene from Carrie. Whatever has happened. Let me look.” There was too much blood, too much. His own clinical experience tells him head wounds can be deceiving, a small cut can look like a blood bath, but even with this knowledge James’ injury looks different to Anthony. “Are you on any medication James?”

If the question seems intrusive, Anthony intends it be.

Peeling back the tea towel, he notes the gash on James’ head is deep and at least a centimetre wide. “We may need to take you to A&E.”

“No A&E!”

Wow okay.

“Bloody hell, well then Sir, what medication are you on because you’re pumping blood out like a fountain. It’s either the name of your meds or A&E, give me an idea of what I am working with here.”

It takes James a moment to answer, and Anthony isn’t sure if that’s because the man doesn’t want to answer or can’t. “Warfarin,” he eventually says with a bit of an eye roll.

That’ll do it. Anthony does a mental fist pump on a successful triage. “Heart problems or clots?”

“H…Heart.”

“Now the multiple blood tests make sense,” he mumbles. He’s always wondered why James attends the surgery for monthly blood tests. He’s never checked James’ record of course, that would be a massive breach of confidentiality but it’s nice to have some sort of heads up with what he is working with here. “I have some steri-strips that I think will close that gash in my car.” Thank god he restocked earlier. “But if I can’t stop the bleeding, you will be going to A&E to get it sutured. I’m good, but not that good – you can thank an extended A&E rotation later if I save your life. What on earth where you doing wrestling a deer? Stay. Still.”

“She was stuck, in the fence. Caught me with her horns.”

“God almighty. And you just came home?!” Anthony doesn’t know whether to be shocked or angry with the man.

“I thought it would be okay. I do have a First Aid kit! A soldier is always prepared.”

Anthony tuts loudly at that snippet of information. “Move your hand. The amount of blood covering your shirt and now mine says otherwise. Anything else I should know?”

“Like what?!”

“What’s the warfarin for? Heart attacks?”

“What about them?!”

Bingo. “How many have you had? I take it you’ve had at least one. Think of me as your own personal physician for the next few minutes.”

“Bally hell.”

“Well?”

“Two, but I’m doing well,” James tells him proudly. “A small one first and then a big one. That one got the better of me though.”

“Stent?”

“Yes.”

“Are you still under a consultant at the hospital?”

“In London. But what’s this got to do with my bleeding forehead Havers!?”

“You know damn well what it’s got to do with it. I just… oh for the love of god, its starting again. Hang on. Stay still please. I’m a bit concerned about your BP dropping the amount of blood you have lost. Give me a minute, here, hold that tea towel hard against your head please.”

Making his way back to his car Anthony, huffs and puffs as he does so. “Kitty you were right, he is a bloody menace,” he mumbles fiercely to himself. The absolute ridiculousness of the man thinking he could simply patch up a cut that size with an Elastoplast and some Savlon.

Opening the boot of his car, Anthony grabs the medical kit and a few pairs of latex gloves from a box near the spare tyre.

“Why are you wearing gloves?! What on earth is all that? I’m clean!” James barks as soon Anthony walks out the Folly’s bathroom and back into the open plan kitchen.  

“You know bloody well I’m wearing them to protect you, not the other way around.” Anthony snaps back instead. He throws James a look of absolute frustration as he does so and decides he is going to ignore James’ very specific, I’m clean statement for now because that’s just far too much information to process. Far too much. “I need to touch an open wound on your head, and even though my hands have just been washed and dosed in alcohol rub, I prefer NOT to leave you open to any sort of infection. Did you forget about the global pandemic?”

“Hmmm,” James replies a little sheepishly. Quite rightly too Anthony thinks.

“Right, head up. Jesus, you’ve given yourself a right battering here, or rather she has. That big old horny stag of yours not paying her another attention? Isn't it rutting season? She’s caught you right above the eye. How many fingers am I holding up.”

“Havers please.”

“How many?”

“Three.”

“And now?”

“Really Havers, one, but did it need to be the middle one?”

Anthony ignores the protests, “any double vision? Headache?”

“Mmmm, a little head pain, yes.”

“Possibly concussion as well as an open wound. Smashing stuff. Sit down.”

When Anthony uses his firm doctor voice this time, James obeys and plants himself on the kitchen stool with a thud. “I probably should have called you when it happened, but if it’s any consolation, I knew you would eventually get here.” He admits with a wince.

“Or even, hear me out James, taken yourself to A&E,” Anthony insists, pushing the wound closed and applying a steri-strip a little more firmly that he would normally do. The force with which he does it is not intentional but needed he feels.

“Not A&E.”

“God almighty. Okay so not A&E, but come on James, you know the risks taking Warfarin. I’d rather visit you healthy in hospital then having you bled to death on your kitchen floor ruining the tiles. I say that though, I think we are finally slowing down now.”

“Thank god.”

Taking a step back, Anthony takes a good look at James face and sighs gently. It’s a wonderfully handsome face, even with dried blood covering most of it.

“Here,” he says quietly, offering the man a large antiseptic pad. “Hold that up against the wound again, I’ve put some strips on it, but it may still bleed. Let me get a damp cloth to clean you up a bit. Get you looking a bit more presentable old chap.”

“O…Okay.”

Anthony walks back to the bathroom, returning with a clean damp face cloth he finds in the cupboard under the sink.

He positions himself in front of James his fingers resting under the man’s chin. Titling James’ head to one side he slowly wipes off the dry blood from his cheeks and forehead before rinsing the cloth in the nearest sink and doing the same to his moustache.

When Anthony thinks about it, he realises he hasn’t been this close to a man’s face in a long time. He suspects the last time was well before he and Graham separated, and even before that given that the physical side of their relationship was non-existent.

But none of that is going to help him now though, is it?

Not when James is mere inches from him and his specific and rather contentious ‘I’m clean’ declaration is still ringing in Anthony’s ears.

“Before… when you said…? James? Listen to me. What did you mean when you said you where ‘clean’?” Anthony asks softly, he wipes a particularly stubborn bit of dried blood away as he does so. There's only inches between their faces now and Anthony can almost feel the man’s breath on his face. It takes him a good couple of seconds and a lung full of air before he can carry on. “I’ve only ever heard it used like that one way; people don’t throw it about lightly either I’ll add,” he goes to say, fully aware of the repercussions of his next statement. “But I will say I've used it myself a couple of times after I found out Graham had been cheating on me. Made him get tested – just to make sure. I’m clean too; if you are wondering.”

Anthony knows there are context to his words. He knows what he is asking James, but men have been beaten up and arrested for insinuating such things in the past.

To James’ credit though he doesn’t punch Anthony. Nor does he deny it either. Instead, James sits like he is frozen in time, his lips slightly parted, eyes wide while looking a little scared.

Oh James.

“Truth? The person you were on and off with for 10 years, the one you told me about, the one I am assuming you stayed in Hereford for?” Anthony pushes further, eyebrows raised. It’s now or never. “Was it a bloke?”

“It… it...”

“Another soldier?”

“He was…” James finally replies.

Anthony watches as James’ head falls forward, almost possibly in resignation to what he has just disclosed.

Everything James has shared over lunch, at the cricket, on walks, is finally clicking into place. “Special Forces, Hereford, isn’t that where some of them are based? The bastard messed with you didn’t, kept you hanging he then left – let me guess, married, two kids, massive amounts of PTSD, live, laugh, love mural on his living room wall?” Anthony asks.

James huffs in response. He opens his mouth to say something then doesn’t. The silence tells Anthony everything he needs to know.

“You could have said something, leaving me to prattle on about how much my father hated and I quote ‘my homosexual lifestyle’.”

James snorts loudly then winces in pain as he does so. “And tell you all about my father’s opinion on it? No one wants to hear what that he fucking thought or what an old fool I’ve been.”

It’s possibly the first time he has heard James swear and the sound of hearing the man use such language takes Anthony by surprise. Swearing doesn’t suit James; Anthony decides with a weak chuckle. “Err less of the language or the word ‘old’ please, you’re only 49, I also think you have competition in that area to be honest. Have you not met my family?”

This time it’s James who chuckle – or tries too – at least Anthony thinks that’s what he is doing. But even semi covered in blood his smile is still rather wonderful. “Stephanie and Humphrey seem well matched,” James goes onto say. “Her and Thomas seem very much supportive of you. I’m still an old fool though.”

“Well, they are supportive now, but they weren’t at first. Mainly because they didn’t understand it… neither did I to be honest, I was 15? 16? Full of hormones and very confused about my feelings for Joshua Jackson and the boy who worked at the butchers,” Anthony quickly adds. “But this isn’t about them, Pacey from Dawson’s Creek or why I like Kylie Minogue, you’re a bloody menace James, wresting deer and getting injured, but you’re not an old fool… I rather wish you hadn’t said that about yourself… you’re rather the opposite in my opinion.”

“What? That’s not what I was doing… hang on… your opinion? Havers?”

“Hmmm. Calm your buffs. Hold on, let me take these gloves off. I think we’ve stopped bleeding.” Clearing his throat, Anthony doffs the latex gloves to correct way, one over the other, rolls them up and throws them towards his rucksack.

All this damn time, he thinks, taking another steadying breath. All this damn time.

“Now, now…did she get you anywhere else, this deer?” he asks, hoping his voice sounds as stable as it does in his head. He’s spent enough time working in A&E to know the changing the subject usually does the trick.

“What?”

“Did she hit you anywhere else?” Anthony asks again. He hopes he sounds calm. In truth, he can hardly hear himself speak over the sound of his thundering heart.

James is gay.

He’s gay.

Coughing, Anthony clears his throat a second time. It’s ridiculous, getting himself this worked up about it, but he genuinely can’t help it.

“She caught my shoulder.”

“Anywhere else?”

James mumbles something incoherent in reply.

“Oh for fucks-.” Anthony mutters, finding the mumbling frustrating AND utterly adorable. Without waiting for a further explanation, he takes a step back and wills himself not to make eye contact again with the man.

He absolutely needs to focus on James’ injuries, stick to what he’s good at.

That said, anyone with working eyes can see the man is in pain. “You know if your shoulder feels in any way fractured, we will be going to A&E,” Anthony tells him firmly, hoping he sounds like he knows what he is doing.

This is not the time for an emotional breakdown Anthony.

James is gay.

Gay.

All this time.

And Anthony suddenly – well not suddenly (he’s wanted to for a while if he is being honest with himself – not that James being gay means Anthony has a full license too of course) - really wants to kiss his face off.

“Not broken, I can move it. You learn to assess yourself when an IED explodes next to you,” James replies breaking the quiet. Anthony watches as he takes a deep breath, gasping in pain as he does so.

He was blown up?

“Ribs too?” Anthony’s asks. If he gets the opportunity, he’ll be interrogating the man further about the blowing up part of this story another time – but for now, he waits patiently for an answer to his last question.

“Probably.”

“Are you… do you want me to take a look?” Anthony asks, knowing he is asking for trouble.

Pausing briefly, James nods his head and reaches tentatively for the buttons on his shirt undoing them one by one.

Anthony sighs when he sees the bruises already forming on James’ wonderful shoulder and sturdy looking chest. There’s a gorgeous splattering of hair across the expanse of it, god damn it. “You are going to have a massive bruise, no more lacerations though,” he tells him, as James slips the garment fully off his body. “A hematoma is forming already. Let’s look at your ribs.”

Anthony watches as James slowly turns his body slightly to one side giving him an unrestricted view to the right-hand side of his torso.

“Can I touch you?”

“What?! If you must… what I mean is yes, sorry, it’s been-.”

Anthony can feel the tension radiating off the man, “James, it’s okay, I don’t have to if you don’t want me too, but I need to check for breakages. Give me peace of mind that I’m right to listen to you and not go straight to A&E. I have a duty of care after all.”

James acquiesces finally by way of a nod, allowing Anthony to run his hand over the side of this body, round the back, gently pressing where the ribs as located near his breastbone. He feels James’ heart pounding beneath his fingers and the small involuntary flinches James makes as Anthony’s fingers press lightly around his rib cage.

“Is that tender?” he asks carefully and James nods. “Okay.”   

A quick check of James’ pulse at the wrist and Anthony decides that his heart rate appears okay – a little elevated maybe – but what man wouldn’t have a raised pulse with an almighty gash on their head and what looks like possible extensive bruising to his shoulder.

“They don’t feel broken, but I’m not 100%,” Anthony announces with a further step back. Just to be on the safe side he takes another deep breath allowing his lungs to fill with air. Steady now Doctor. Steady. “I’m a bit worried about concussion, your eyes, they have glazed over a little now, no double vision, ringing in the ears, dizziness? Let’s talk about A&E again.”

“Let’s not, and no, not yet no.”

Anthony huffs loudly in response. “Well, you aren’t slurring your words, and your breathing doesn’t sound terribly laboured. I’m semi satisfied, but it’s been a long time since I worked in an emergency department. You don’t get too many broken ribs in a GP surgery.”

“You… you remember your training well. Second nature almost.”

Anthony nods with the shake of his head, “hmmm I rather suppose it is. I’m still worried about you though, you probably should have someone with you overnight.” Anthony replies.

“No. Definitely not.”

“So, no A&E or babysitting? Do you want me to contact anyone?”

“No. Repel boarders and all that.”

“Riiiight, that’s an army ‘thing’ is it? How do you feel about checking in with me a couple of times later instead – via text or call me,” Anthony goes onto ask. At the back of his mind, he knows he should be frogmarching James to A&E he knows he should be – that is his professional duty of care after all – and yet… “Just so I know you are okay. You’re stubborn enough that you won’t go to hospital, but humour me, yes?”

James finally agrees by way of a nod, “that would be acceptable.”

At least that was something, Anthony thinks to himself, but god in heaven the man was difficult. “I think you’ve stopped bleeding which is good. Those strips obviously worked.”

“You’re a good doctor.”

“I…I do what I can,” he answers, pushing aside the sudden intrusive thought he has about how it would be to hold James’ chin in a slightly less clinical setting.

It’s a wonderful chin. A strong chin. Classical. Romanesque almost.

He notes that a few spots of blood remain in situ near James’ hairline and moustache, “you’re still covered in blood,” he casually points out, grabbing a swab of cotton wool from his bag. Without thinking, Anthony wets the end, takes a step forward, and rather more tenderly than a man in his position should do, wipes away the splatters of blood – first with the cotton wool and then unexpectedly with the pad of his thumb.

If James is surprised by the touch, he doesn’t acknowledge and before Anthony can stop himself his thumb catches the corner of James’ bottom lip pulling the soft skin down until the tip of the man’s tongue is exposed.

It’s everywhere Anthony has wanted to be for a while now. He knows damn well he’s been attracted to James since the day he stepped back through Button House’s front door. The man had absolutely floored him just stood up against a meeting room wall so standing this close to him has Anthony's own proverbial buff's in a terrible tangle. All he needs to do now is move his head slightly to the left and he would be kissing him.

Except he doesn’t. The subtle gasp James suddenly makes has Anthony crashing out of his thoughts and back looking into the eyes of a battered and bruised looking estate manager.  

Later, much later, after the shakes in his hands have calmed down (a little anyway), Anthony will try to convince himself it was the lightest of touches without meaning or intent - a simple tug of the lip, an accident per say.  

In reality Anthony won’t sleep. Not a wink. He will ruminate, toss, and turn and wait for the glow of his mobile phone to light up his bedroom as James sends him a text and then another when Anthony doesn’t reply. James will then go onto to make a series calls and follow up text messages throughout the night. The barrage will only end at 5am when James sends a selfie of his beat up face that Anthony an only respond to with emoji of a boxing glove and deer. He decides the small emoji are safer than using words.

Less chance to fuck his life up even more.

But before all that and right at this instant Anthony feels the ground under him opening up to form a giant chasm. The sound of James’ gasp has acted like a bucket of water being poured over Anthony’s head and he pulls his hand away sharply before he can do anymore damage.  

“Anthony?”

If Anthony’s reply sound rushed it’s because it is, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have.” He says while mentally listing all the professional standards from the GP Code of Practice he may have just broken. “I need to go, I shouldn’t have-.”

“Anthony…it’s-”

Anthony shakes his head cutting off anything James was about to say. “No… I must… please text me or call later, either…”  

“Oh! It was just…” James stammers. “I was going to ask you-.”

“Now, where did I put my medical bag,” Anthony says far too loudly, knowing the blasted thing is right next to him.

“Anthony?”

“I better get off.”

“Havers, wait, maybe I shouldn’t be left alon-!”

“You will be fine…I can’t.... I need to go; I need to get out of here, maybe… maybe Kitty could assist,” he says, turning away and striding out the door.

“Anthony? Whatever is the matter?”

“James please.”

“Anthony?”

“I touched you…I have a duty of care...” he begins to say.

“Anthony…you don’t….”

“I touched you and nearly kissed you James, I only just stopped myself,” he says before James can say anything else. 

Coming to a halt halfway down The Folly’s pathway he can hear the man following him close behind, shirt still hanging around his waist.

“Anthony!”

“You don’t get it do you? I mean… I touched you inappropriately James!” He doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but he can’t help it. “I’m not to be trusted.”

He suspects he leaves James standing in the middle of his garden, mouth open wondering what the hell has just happened.

Chapter Text

I look a bally mess <image attached>

---

Anthony doesn’t sleep a wink, because why on earth would he under the circumstances.

It doesn’t help that the last thing he remembers seeing is James stood half naked at the bottom on his garden path looking as equally shocked as Anthony still feels.

God knows where he left his car. A curb was involved at one point, and he half suspects its double parked somewhere near the disabled bays ready to be towed away by Robin.

What Anthony does know though, is that his behaviour yesterday was totally unacceptable. Touching James. Wanting to kiss him and telling him as much.

Never in his life has Anthony behaved so unprofessionally. Never.

He’s always prided himself on the fact that not one single patient has ever complained about the care he has given. Even during the umpteen years he did of medical school, clinical placements, specialist placements, the whole eight plus months he spent in A&E when he couldn’t decide what to route to take and then the three years of GP specialist training he put himself through. Had he always been right? No. Had he made mistakes? Of course – everyone did.

But being a doctor just comes naturally to him. He loves it.

He loves being a General Practitioner even more.

And yet… here he is. Right up to his earholes in trouble and possibly throwing it all down the drain for the sake of an inappropriate grope of a wounded man he was treating.

And it was a grope.

There is absolutely no doubt about it.

Anthony might as well write the letter of complaint to the General Medical Council himself.   

By 5.30am the next morning Anthony cuts his loses and realises (after even more ruminating and James’ insistence to send an earlier photo of himself) that he isn’t going to fall back to sleep. The sun has already broken through the gap in his bedroom curtains and the sounds Button House makes when it’s waking up are now becoming too hard to ignore.

Making his way down the back staircase and narrow corridors that only the staff use, Anthony pads lightly in his bare feet through the building.

“What on earth are you doing up at this time brother mine?” A voice says the moment Anthony steps foot into the kitchen.

Thomas.

Christ, he thinks, that’s all he needs.  

“What on earth are you wearing? And what does Gay A F mean?” his brother continues to say as Anthony stumbles his way around the large wooden table that’s been a resident at Button House longer that he has and towards the stove top kettle.

“It’s acronym. Surely you should know that with all your degrees.” It’s a cheap dig but worth it he feels.

“For what?”

“As. Fuck.”

Pausing to read the T-shirt again Thomas pulls a face in a manner a person would chewing a wasp, “hmmm. Polite as always, I see.”

“Jesus,” Anthony whispers in return. “It was a Secret Santa present from a friend. I don’t wear it when I’m doing home visits Thomas!” In his defence he did get dressed half asleep, flinging on the first thing that he could grab off the floor. In this instance it was a pair of muppet pyjamas pants – a Christmas present from Fanny the previous year and the so-called offending T-shirt (which was absolutely not a present from Fanny).

“Right, well… not in the public areas either please. Young children visit Button House – I’d rather not have a difficult conversation with a parent,” Thomas says rather too matter of flatly.

Rather than answer, Anthony can only bring himself to simply salute. ‘Boss man’ indeed to quote Robin.

“What are you up at this time anyway?” Anthony asks, grabbing a mug and a spoon full of instant coffee.

These days it isn’t entirely unusual to find Thomas sat in the kitchen surrounded by books just not at 6am.

Normally by this time he’s already ransacked three empty rooms.

“Research.”

“Right!”  

“Oh, someone’s a little techy this morning, aren’t we? You look awful by the way.”

Anthony stares at him. “Thanks.” He doesn’t need this, not at 6am anyway.

“Well, you do, whatever is the matter? Apart from the obvious,” Thomas replies, waving his hand across the array of textbooks and legal paperwork laid out before him.

“Shit night’s sleep,” Anthony answers as he pulls out a chair and takes a seat at the opposite end of the table. He rather hopes that the casualness of the action belays the fact that every part of his body is internally vibrating with anxiety.

“You aren’t exactly around much.” Thomas says. “Cricket trips, walks in the countryside and the rest!”

“God almighty Thomas.”

“Well. You. Haven’t.” Thomas replies punctuating each word as he does when he is being difficult. It makes him sound like their Father; Anthony thinks, remembering the multiple occasions Anthony had been on receiving end of the man’s venom.  

“I’m working full time,” Anthony tells him rather than mention the observation to Thomas.

“We all are. I have 3 tours today.”

“I have an overbooked clinic and 35 patients to see. Most of whom will want to tell me their life story or show me a body part that’s faulty.”

“Hmmm, well, that maybe so. That doesn’t excuse you from helping.”

“Do you want some help!?” Anthony snaps, grabbing a large textbook off the table and flicking through the first few pages. It’s filled with pages of drawings of crests and family trees. “I don’t know what half of this means.”

“Family crests.”

“Okay, and why are they important in all this? Is our birth order in here so we can shut this shit with Julian down?”

“Anthony. Please. Not unless we were born in 1853 it won’t.”

“1853. Right. Bloody useless then, isn’t it?” Anthony snaps back, slamming the textbook down onto the table.

“Good lord! You really did get out of the wrong side of the bed this morning. What on earth is wrong with you?”

Anthony wants to say everything, ‘everything Thomas, everything,’ or ‘I might have no career come 5pm, that’s what’s up’ but he doesn’t. Maybe if he had a closer relationship to his siblings he could have told them the truth, but he doesn’t and so instead he lies. “Nothing, like I said, no sleep. Do you want my help or not?”

“Actually no,” Thomas finally says after a pause and a deep sigh. “And sorry, I didn’t mean to… you know… but you really do look awful, lack of sleep is a bitch, isn’t it?

“A little,” Anthony answers with a shrug.

“Can I be honest Ant?”

 “Of course.” Anthony replies. He knows he is a hypocrite of course.

“The truth is, I’m rather enjoying the research. It’s rather enlightening. You and Fanny mock my degrees but doing all this, takes me back to my time at university and my Masters. I’ve found all sorts out.”

He and Fanny did mock him, Anthony will give him that. What on earth a man needs degrees in English, Philosophy and politics and a master’s degree in god knows what for is anyone’s guess.

“For example,” Thomas continues, “…And to use a terrible cliché brother mine, but you probably aren’t the first gay in the Button House village,” he semi-gleefully tells Anthony, lifting the reference book up and pointing to a portrait of two mean dressed in full purple highland garb. “This here is Ranald Joseph Everett Button and next to him ‘as described’ here, his best friend and/or valet who he was never without. Utter rubbish, look at the way the valet – he’s the one with the ‘tache by the way – is looking at the other man. Utter devotion. Reminds me a little of you, Ranald does, he has your height, chin, and nose.”

Anthony hums in acknowledgement. There was a likeness. Apparently, the Button House genes ran deep. “Handsome chap, wasn’t he? Ranald.”

“Imprisoned in the Tower of London during the Jacobite Wars apparently, died here at Button House, valet by his side.”      

“Tower of London, eh? Sounds excessive,” Anthony briefly wonders if that’s where the GMC will send him after James reports him to their governing board for inappropriate touching of a patient. “Anyway, aside of Ranald the Handsome, have you discovered anything about us? Any murders, suspicious deaths, birth orders?”

Thomas huffs loudly. “No, and it’s worrying me. I’m rather annoyed at Mother for putting us through this,” he tells Anthony with an ounce of annoyance. “I’m sure she had good intentions and all, but she did what she did because she was either very angry with Father, or, well, she simply just wanted us to live our lives.”

“What makes you think that? The last part that is. She was always angry at father.”

“Her diaries. I’ve read a couple of her later volumes, just before she died. Robin found them in the old drawing room – it seems she was very happy that we went or where on our way to University and did our own things but was very worried about you. Worried that you would never be happy, meet someone suitable, have children.”

“Oh,” well that isn’t mildly disconcerting, Anthony considers. She never met Graham, having died before Anthony could introduce them, but from the sounds of it she wouldn’t have had the confidence their relationship anyway. Rightly so it seems, on multiple counts, “but nothing else?”

Thomas shakes his head. “Not a dot. Well, there’s always been murders, deaths and births – the place has been there since the dawn of time but as for us, no. Anyway, I should probably sleep, my first tour is at 11am and I’ve arranged an appointment to see a solicitor tomorrow, expert in hereditary law.”

“Did you want me to come with you?” It’s a weak offer, Anthony knows, but its’ the least he can do at this point.

Thomas shakes his head again. “Not yet, let me scope out and see what she says and go from there.”

“Okay, only if, you are sure?”

“Totally, now go back to bed or drink more coffee Anthony, you look awful.”  

“Likewise, Thomas, likewise.”

---

Anthony doesn’t go back to bed, at this point it’s too late in the morning. Instead, he changes his clothes into something more suitable for a day of doctoring – in this case a brushed cotton shirt, comfortable pants and a jumper (Thomas would approve). He then retrieves his wallet and phone from his bedroom and heads out to the surgery.

Rather frustratingly he receives a further two WhatsApp messages – photos obviously - from James by the time he pulls into the surgery car park.

7.15am: Look here, I think she still has my blood on her antlers <image attached>

7.45am: Where the new jetty will be – seeing as I didn’t get to show you yesterday <image attached>

He ignores them both, closing the app as quickly as he opened it.  

The man is obviously doing it just to taunt him.

“Arh, Anthony, just the person,” Anthony hears Humphrey shout the moment he sets foot in the waiting area. “Get yourself a brew and then come and see me please,” he goes onto say before disappearing down the corridor.

Right.

It’s twenty minutes before Anthony can bring himself to cross the threshold of his boss’s clinic room door. Does the man already know? Has James phoned him overnight?? Fumbling around with a kettle wastes a few seconds, a conversation about the weather and checking his patient list for the day waste a few more. Eventually there is nothing left in his clinic room to for him to wipe down or sanitise to delay the meeting any longer.

Dr Bone is sat one knee crossed over the other when Anthony walks in. Flicking through a medical journal, the crumpled remains of a McDonalds breakfast surround him.

“Stayed at my flat last night,” he says defending the mess. “Can’t be arsed to cook.”

“Right,” Anthony says nodding at the discarded Sausage McMuffin wrapper. “I’ve not to mention this to Fanny, have I?”

“God no! She’d have my guts for garters. Kitty also. So anyway, less about my appalling diet, how you doing? Thought we might have a little catch up. Should have had one sooner, I know, Clinical Supervision, important stuff and all that.”

“Oh, okay. I…I...I’m okay,” Anthony answer him like it isn’t a bare faced lie.

Humphrey responds to this by pulling a face. He doesn’t look convinced and nor should he be either. “You sure? You don’t sound it. Are you not enjoying your time with us?”

Anthony sighs softly, “I…it’s…it’s okay.” The words seem to drag as he says them.

This time the other doctor’s eyebrows lift off his forehead at his answer. “Just, okay?”

“No… no I didn’t mean it like that,” Anthony quickly backtracks. “It’s just… yes I’m enjoying it.”

In all honestly, he’s been worrying about how to broach the incidents of the day before all morning. Every scenario Anthony dreams up results in him crashing and burning at the gates of the GMC, destroyed medical license in hand, as Fanny and Thomas ban him from ever setting foot on the property again.

But how does one inform one’s boss that you’ve possibly broken a code of conduct.

“Okaaay, here, whatever, before I forget, I have this for you,” Humphrey says sliding over a thick white envelope. He eyes Anthony closely as he continues. “I know you’ve been in contact with some London practices about returning there, so I’m setting my stall out early – maybe a bit early but fuck it. Full partnership here if you want it.”

Anthony almost screams. “Humph…”

“No, don’t Humph me or don’t give me an answer yet. You’re a bloody good GP Anthony. The patients love you, Fan is over the moon you are back, so am I to be honest and I wasn’t even here the first time you lived at Button House thank god by the way – it sounded awful,” he adds with a laugh.

“Humphrey…” Anthony turns his head away from his colleague, he quickly swallows back the bile forming in his throat and for a brief stupid moment he decides he has every part of his body under control until he notices his hands are beginning to shake and his knee is bouncing wildly.

“Ant… are you okay?”

“No…” Anthony whispers, grabbing his bouncing knee. “I fucked up Humph.”

“Oh…”

“I’ve done something I shouldn’t have done.”

“Ah, right.”

“Can I explain?”

Later, much later (again), Anthony is going to give Humphrey credit for not once getting angry. Instead, Humphrey wears an expression of semi-speechless and a little confusion as Anthony explains what the hell had gone on the day before.

“I’m not proud of myself, far from it,” Anthony tells him more than once. “Behaved like a bloody idiot.”

“The Captain,” Humphrey announces after a few minutes and before Anthony can say anything else - “Bloody hell. I wondered why he’d already been this morning. In a right state I might add. He’s had his regular early doors blood test – which I am assuming you know the reason for now.”

Anthony nods, “I do yeah.”

“It’s a funny thing to look after someone’s heart – medically and emotionally,” Humphrey tells him almost absentmindedly before continuing slightly more pointedly. “There's many ways to do so too – but that’s not what we are here to discuss is it. Not entirely anyway.”

“No.” Anthony replies softly.

“I heard Kitty kicking his arse this morning if you must know. First for the state of his face – she’s glued it shut apparently. God knows where she got that stuff from, we don’t usually stock it. Then because of something else I now know to be you. I couldn’t figure out why I kept hearing Button House mentioned or why he turned up with your rucksack, but now… now it makes sense,” he continues with a nod to the ceiling. “It’s amazing what you hear with a suspended ceiling, noise travels. Especially when someone raises their voice, and the place is empty – they forget I’m here sometimes. Terrible design flaw.”

“A little,” he replies, suddenly realising in his haste to get out of The Folly his rucksack was sat by its front door.

Humphries continues though, “I’ve gotta be honest, I had no clue Cap was…well…gay. I think that is what I was hearing anyway. No, I’m fairly sure it was what I heard. Not sure Fanny does either. Secrets safe with me of course.”

“It came as a surprise to me also,” Anthony says faintly. Oh boy had it.

“Kitty read him the riot act. I’ve only ever heard her get angry about two things – recently anyway – the fact that they split the 3^rd series of Bridgerton up – me and Fan smashed through all the episodes of that Bank Holiday weekend by the way - and the cost of a replacement iPhone charger that she dropped down the toilet. So, to hear her loose her proverbial shit at Cap was quite something.”

Anthony can imagine. “I’m not really sure it’s him who needs the riot act reading to them.”

“Explain again what happened between the two of you then. I got the gist of the conversation. His eye and shoulder are a mess apparently, but you Sir know your shit well enough to make sure he wasn’t badly injured. Would he not go to A&E?”

“Wild horses or deer couldn’t have dragged him.”

Humphrey chuckles softy and knowingly. He even adds a tut in before speaking. “Stubborn bastard. Truthfully now. Did something happen between you two? Yesterday? Or before yesterday? I had my suspicions if I am being honest.”

Taking a deep breath Anthony attempts to gather his thoughts into what he hopes is a coherent sentence. He hasn’t really spoken to anyone about any of this. His family – and he supposes Humphrey is now part of that, knew he and James would meet – or now rather had met – for lunch, but beyond that no one knew a thing.

Not how Anthony feels. 

He never tells anyone how he feels. Not these days anyway.

Somewhere deep inside he suspects he’s afraid of being rejected again. First by his family – well his father anyway – and then by Graham. Even his mother – who never met any of his partners (not that there was many of the years) apparently had no faith in his choices, so he just shut himself down.

In truth he’s been having a major battle with his emotions ever since he found Graham in bed with the American.

“Well?”

“What? Oh sorry.”

“Yesterday. You and Cap.” Humphrey says by way of reminder. He takes a sip of coffee as he does so. “Lost you for a moment then, didn’t I?”

“No…kind of,” Anthony says feeling himself blush at Humphrey’s words not willing to admit he’d hit the nail on the head.

“Hmmm.”

To gather his thoughts Anthony clears his throat. It semi works.

“Yesterday, right. No. Nothing has happened in the way you think anyway.” he begins. “Honestly though? He caught my eye in that way the first night, but I never thought anything of it. Then we started meeting for lunch, and the odd walk and it’s taken me a little by surprise – after my ex – I didn’t think there or need there to be anyone else for a long time, so I took it to be a harmless crush. Yesterday though… yesterday was the exact opposite of what I wanted to happen. Humphrey – I touched his mouth and nearly kissed him... I could lose my license or get suspended if he raises a formal grievance,” Anthony finally admits out loud. The rush of words and emotion almost leaves him breathless.

“You could, yes.”

“Humph, I wanted to kiss him. So much.” He somehow manages to say. It makes him feel rather raw and exposed now it’s out in the open.

If Humphrey is bothered by this information he doesn’t react. “And how did he respond?” he asks carefully.

“I didn’t give him the opportunity, I just ran.”

“Right.” Humphrey answers him with a long sigh. “I’m not going to lie, you’ve been a fucking idiot. Inappropriate… unethical…but-”

“…I know! I just don’t understand why Kitty is annoyed with him though! I’ve breached multiple ethical codes!!” Anthony cuts Humphrey off with a shout.

“You gonna let me finish?”

“Sorry, yes…”

A second chuckle escapes from Humphrey. “Well, this is the part where I tell you the rest of the story. The bit you don’t know about,” he says with a conspiratorial wink. “God almighty. Claire Raynor ‘eat your heart out’. Let’s start with this. Kitty is annoyed with you as much as Kitty can be. You left a man alone for 12 hours after a head injury and possibly concussion. In your defence though, it sounds like Cap was being difficult.”

Anthony whines softly. “A little, wouldn’t go anywhere near A&E or have anyone with him overnight.”

“Thought as much – such a stubborn bastard – never really got to the bottom of that frustratingly. Secondly, and this is a biggy…” Humphrey continues with a frown. For a moment he says nothing, and somehow Anthony can see he is searching for the right words to use. “It’s hard when you start to see someone in a different light isn’t it? Someone you should be professional with and stay within the ethical guidelines of the job you are paid to do.”

It takes Anthony a moment… “Fanny,” he replies quietly.

“Hmmm. My story isn’t over though. You are right though. I love your sister mate. Love the bones of her. But she’s no longer a patient at this surgery for a reason. The same reason Dr Hoyle's teenage kids from Beechwood are under our caseload. Professional courtesy and all that.”

“Okay.” Anthony answers, a lump forming in his throat at the weight of Humphrey’s words around his feelings for his sister.

“But that’s beside the point. Cap isn’t your patient and doesn’t need to be. He’s mine. And yesterday you found someone injured and treated them appropriately. Sure, something else happened and you definitely should have got him to go to hospital, but that wasn’t going to happen. From what I overheard this morning though it sounds like - reading between the lines – what happened was probably gonna happen anyway…”

“That’s not…”

“Let me finish… listen, from what I can gather, or what I overheard, our Captain has… well… he’s been trying to get someone’s – yours apparently - attention – I think that’s the best way to describe it - for a while. And judging by the conversation this morning it’s very unlikely you will be reported to GMC. Kitty has been quite the cheerleader about it all – he gave you his mobile number, didn’t he? Yeah? That was her. He makes you food as well, doesn’t he?”

Anthony nods slowly.

“Flowers, days out, etc. Lancashire v Hampshire was her idea too I suspect, the crafty bugger.”

“Hmmm…”

“You’re being wooed Dr Havers. Or rather, you were being wooed – I’m not 100% what advice she gave him – Kitty reads far too many bodice rippers on her lunch break. But it seems to me you have some big decisions on your hands. Uneasy lies the head… as Shakespeare wrote – I think it fits – Henry IV part one if I am not mistaken. It’s a loose connection, I’ll give you that. Do you escape to London? Go for it with Cap? Deal with the consequences of potentially being Lord Button? Stay and work with me.”

Humphrey was right and Anthony knew this deep down. “Irrespective of everything else, what I did was inappropriate though.”

Humphrey sighs. He sits back in his chair for the first time since Anthony entered his office and dumped this mess in his lap. “I’d be a bloody hypocrite if I agreed and reported you for it.”

“Humph…”

“The romantic bastard that I am says go for it with him. The professional bastard who is your boss will say this…clinically you have absolutely no input into Cap’s care. He’s my patient and it’ll stay like that until further notice.”

“Humph…”

“Only you can decide though. Listen, no one can choose for you, but you choose one pathway, I reckon the others will follow and fall into place.”

Chapter Text

For the first time since returning to Button House, Anthony feels weary.

A long and emotional chat with Humphrey turns into an hour of clinical supervision were they both discuss their caseload, the on-call rota, a conference in Birmingham, and sign off a couple of sections of Humphrey’s portfolio as a Clinical Supervisor.

Then Anthony feels the wrath of Kitty. He half expects it if he is being honest. He doesn’t even mind when she stamps her foot and tells him off for not standing to her Uncle James when he refused to go to the accident and emergency department.

Presently she is semi not speaking to him and is currently demanding he go and see James after work.

“He’s absolutely useless,” she says to them both while brandishing a bottle of hand sanitiser (both he and Humphrey are sat like naughty boys on the treatment room bed by this time). “You know that Humphrey.”

“Well, I know that he is stubborn…”

“And you…” she continues with a turn and a pointed stare towards Anthony. “Are going to need to learn.”

Later when she has stomped out the room (stopping briefly to loudly tut at them) and both men haven’t moved for over five minutes Anthony finally bites the bullet and asks Humphrey what she could possibly mean with her last statement.

“I think…” Humphrey says carefully. “I think that’s the only signal she’s going to give you that sounds like she approves of you and ‘Uncle Cap’.”

“Oh.”

“Are you going to go and see him later?”

“Who? James?”

“Hmmm hmmm.”

Anthony ponders the question for a moment. He’d like to he supposes. Maybe get it all straight in his head what on earth is going on. “Do you think I should?” he asks anyway, already certain that Humphrey’s answer is going to be yes whatever the question.  

“I do. Find out how he looks, feels, whether he’s… well you know interested – I don’t know it works with you lot – and that’s not me being homophobic or whatever. Things like this may happen faster in your world… which is obviously my world also… but it took me four attempts to ask your sister out for dinner. And even then, she said no.”

“Did she really?”

Humphrey hums in reply. “Yes. I was a bit shit at asking though.”

“My sister can be a little stubborn.”

“Also see: Cap.”

“Maybe I should go,” he says out loud. “Go and apologise. I know you’ve said he won’t be reporting me, but I’m still not convinced.”

“Well go then. You do seem calmer than this morning. At least your leg has stopped shaking.”

“True,” Anthony replies with a glance at the offending appendage just to confirm it. “It probably will calm my nerves a little more to pay him a visit. Fairly sure I’ve given myself a hernia today with the stress of it all, plus, I still feel like a bit of a dick about the way I behaved.”

“You said it not me.”

“Once more unto the breach and all that?”

“That’s the spirit young padawan.”    

…

Luckily for Anthony work is an excellent distraction for the rest of the day. And as it is his turn to lock up, he says goodbye to the receptionist, watches her get into her Smart Car and drive off, activates the alarm, and then closes the shutters as he always does.  

He leaves the white envelope and job offer Humphrey gave him earlier on his desk. It’s far too much to think about he decides as he flings the rucksack that had magically appeared in his room after lunch on to the passenger seat of his car.

Just too much.

Thankfully, there are no further texts from James, which makes Anthony feels slightly calmer. Not that he doesn’t want to hear from James, but he also isn’t sure how to handle it if a notification did appear on his lock screen.

He still can’t help but feel he has broken multiple levels of trust.

There’s also a whole discussion on consent he can’t bring himself to dwell on either.

He’s back at Button House and stepping into his shower thirty minutes after leaving the surgery. Washing his body from head to toe, Anthony scrubs at every body part until he feels clean enough to turn the shower off. He knows what he is doing is more than just cleaning his body of the daily grime from the surgery and he watches the water drain away until his fingers start to prune. Drying his body, he then chooses a pair of jeans, socks and his trainers, a loose t-shirt, and a hoodie that he slips over his shoulders and zips up halfway.

“Are you going out?” A voice says from behind him as he makes his way through the expanse of Button Houses’ ballroom and towards the now closed main entrance.

Turning towards the sound he sees both Thomas and Fanny sat together in the study surrounded by books, “Yes,” he says, backtracking a little and feeling a pinch of guilt hit him like a juggernaut. There’s no doubt it’s going to be noted that once again he is off out, avoiding the Lord Button saga. “I’ve got a couple of errands to do.”

“You aren’t on-call, are you? H is, isn’t he?” Fanny asks with a sip of de-caffeinated tea from her cup. He knows it decaf because she likes to remind him daily about not drinking anything caffeinated post 7pm.

“Not on call no. What are you two up too anyway?”

“Looking though more of Mother’s paperwork to take tomorrow.”

“Oh. Is there anything?” Anthony enquires. He bloody well hopes not. Not tonight anyway.

“Photocopies of our birth certificates,” Fanny replies holding up a black and white copy of hers. “You’ve got yours, haven’t you? The real one.”

Anthony nods. “I have somewhere. Do you need it?”

“No, we don’t think so. Unusually there’s nothing on them to indicate anything.”

“Right, do you need me for anything else?” Anthony asks feeling the distinct buzz of his phone suddenly pinging in his trouser pocket. Somehow, he knows it is James. Reaching to grab it, he sees it is a notification of a photo of the Folly at dusk. “I need to go,” he says abruptly to them both. If they are surprised – and he doesn’t think they are in the slightest - they don’t react. “I’ve got to.”

Anthony isn’t sure he is a glutton for punishment or not, but all the confidence he’s built up since leaving his siblings and driving towards The Folly and to where James is, is vanishing. If Humphrey is right, and James feels the same as Anthony does then maybe he won’t report him, and this situation isn’t all but lost.

But over the last few hours, he’s become very aware of the direction is life is possibly about to take. What had Humphrey said earlier? “Choose one pathway, I reckon the others will follow and fall into place.” Maybe, this could be the pathway but at what cost to the other parts of his life. London? Button House? The peerage? If James feels the same, wants the same, where does that leave those plans?

Would he be stupid to give either pathway up?

“Hi,” Anthony says as he approaches The Folly’s front door and to where a very battered and bruised looking James is stood. He must have seen Anthony’s car coming up the narrow track because he is waiting by the green door as Anthony exits the vehicle.

“Hello.”

“Any chance you are free for a chat?”

“Of…of course, yes,” James replies with a slight stutter.

The place is not quite as immaculate as the first time Anthony visited but it’s close. Tonight, the bi-fold doors that Anthony admired from afar during his previous visits are thrown wide open (it’s still light and not to cool for a September evening). The TV is switched on – a documentary about Egypt is being watched by the looks of it. There’s also the detritus of a cooked meal on the coffee table.

It looks comfortable and settled as the man stood in tartan lounge wear in front of him.

“How are you feeling?” he asks gently.

As expected, James looks worse for wear. His arms are peppered with small cuts, (that Anthony hadn’t noticed the day before) and large deep blue almost black bruises span the whole of the left-hand side of his body and up his neck. Anthony assumes his chest and rib area must look the same.

There is also a new dressing on his forehead that Anthony suspects is courtesy of Kitty.

“A little sore,” James answers finally. “No headache though. Single vision 20/20 and all that.”

“Good,” Anthony replies with a little sigh of relief. “Thank you for confirming. I heard you came to the clinic this morning; Kitty has done a better job than me of patching you up.”

“Arh yes. Blood test… and the rest…”

“Hmmm, Well speaking of the rest. I…I came to apologise for yesterday-.”

“What on earth-.”

“No, wait James. Please,” Anthony gently pleads. If he doesn’t say what he needs to all in one go he’ll lose his nerve. “Let me finish. Please. My behaviour was totally inappropriate. I… I touched you and I shouldn’t have done. Not in the way I did anyway. I also may have said something – no, scrap that, I did say something highly unprofessional.”

“Oh.”

“I was inappropriate, I overstepped the mark, I violated your trust. And you are well within your rights to report me to Humphrey and further if you so wish – although I have advised him of the incident.” Anthony says quickly before he can mess the day up even more and say something else.

“Anthony…”

“And I know that you’ve spoken to Kitty about it. She’s… she’s quite frustrated me with-.”

“Arh.”

“She stamped her feet and pointed. Quite forcefully actually. She scared me a little,” he adds for good measure.

“Oh dear.”

“So, yes. I deeply regret any upset I may have caused you or her…well you mostly… and that’s it really, I’m not sure what else to say. Gosh this is horrible, isn’t it?” Anthony continues, losing his steam a little. “Anyway, I completely understand if you feel you can’t spend any time with me or still wish to raise a complaint. I’m sorry James. So sorry.”

“Sorry,” he repeats after a pause, this time taking a step back.

“Anthony. You don’t…”

“No, I do James, I really do.”

James sighs. It’s not a frustrated sigh Anthony decides but he’s looking at Anthony like this conversation could go either way. Rather than the regular hums, huffs and puffs, and the random little noises James normally makes in response to something someone as said, today the man is going him nothing to work with.

There’s no bouncing or stuttering to gauge anything from.     

“I’m not going to report you,” James almost shouts after a moment or two and with an edge of finality that Anthony almost misses. “Why would I?”

“Oh.”

“And yes, Katherine can be scary,” he goes to add with a knowing chuckle. “She tore me a new one also.”

“That’s-.”

“She was most frustrated in regard to my refusal to attend hospital.”

“Right.” Anthony answers for what he feels like is the hundredth time today. He 100% agrees with Kitty on this one though.

“Apparently I am most frustrating.”

“And stubborn.”

“She said that also, did she?”

“Words to that affect. She also said I need to learn how stubborn you can be,” Anthony tells him, catching James’ eye as he does so. For brief moment they hold each other’s gaze before James tears his gaze away and mumbles something incoherent under his breath.  

“James?” Anthony whispers, now a little worried. It’s not a question, not really, even if it sounds like one. “I shouldn’t have said that-.”

“You’ve been very lucky,” James suddenly says cutting Anthony off.

“I have?”

“You may not think it, but you have,” James continues albeit a little softer this time. “D..Do you have any idea of what it’s like to hide a whole facet of your life from others?”  

It’s not what Anthony is expecting James to say. Not in the slightest. “I don’t… not really,” he replies truthfully. He hasn’t for many a year.

“You’ve had it rather easy – you may not think so, but you have. It appears we both share the experience of an unsupportive father figure, but you’ve been able openly love someone and get married. I’ve never had that. I’ve hid who I am away for so long. Needed to.”

Blimey. “James, you don’t need to…”

“I joined the army in 1996. I served 22 years in total. I was involved active combat for most of those years around the world, my last posting was spent working for the intelligence services. My best friend was killed, and I have a replacement knee and a heart problem because of it.”

“Okay.”

“For four years it was illegal for me to serve in the army - at the time I admit I wasn't out so it wasn't too complicated for me but even after the laws changed nothing really changed. There was still abuse and homophobia. You can change the laws but not the way people think.” James goes on before pausing to take a deep breath. “I also spent over ten years with a man who would not acknowledge me and while we were together Mark had two children and married. So yes, you were right, live laugh life on the wall and a tonne of PTSD for all of us.”

“Fuck James.”

“He’s the only person I…”

“Shit James, I’m sorry.”

“No wait… I don’t want your pity. I’m not ashamed of who I am, I’m very proud of what I’ve achieved throughout my career, but I need to tell you this, it’s important I do so Katherine informed me this morning. The truth is, I’ve hid that part of myself away so well I forgot it was there. Then you bally well walked into that meeting room that first time and I’ve not been able to think about anything else since. I could no longer forget – if that makes sense.”

Anthony nods looking down at his hands and back to James. “It does. I think…” he admits quietly.

“I was quite angry with you at first. I still am a little.”

Rightly so, judging by this conversation Anthony thinks to himself.

“You flicked a switch I didn’t really need or want flicking - so to speak. Katherine wondered what the blasted hell was wrong with me.”

“You told her.”

James nods. “It appears she’s missed her calling working for MI5. Dragged it out of me. Apparently, I would have made a terrible hostage, a complete wash out of one.”

“Don’t be so harsh Ja-…”

“No Havers, she’s right.”

“Okay… and what did she advise?” Anthony watches as James sighs softly, his whole-body sagging under the weight of whatever he is about to disclose. Anthony can see that it’s difficult for him to say the words, to make that final admission whatever it may be.

But James is right of course, Anthony has had it easy, and it makes his blood boil knowing that James has been made to hide this part of his life away in a wardrobe. No wonder the man had been angry with Anthony and his woe me stories about his childhood.

In truth, Anthony realises very suddenly, James hasn’t really come out or embraced his sexuality to anyone except Kitty.

And wasn’t something to get your head around.

(He also secretly wants to hug Kitty within an inch of her life but that will need to wait.)

“This morning, she told me again to be brave. Speak to you,” James admits finally. “Previously I was to give you my mobile number, make you food… She also made the observation that it looked we both needed ‘some loving.’ Make of that what you will. It all felt rather silly and childish… then yesterday happened.”

Dear god.

“Regardless of all that, I still shouldn’t have touched you, James. Not in the way I did.” Anthony says quickly.

James waves him off gently. “I was told to ask you on a date – a proper one – Katherine assured me it would be the gentlemanly thing to do – and I was going to do so that yesterday afternoon, but then that blasted doe got herself stuck and blew up all my plans.”

“James…”

“This is hard for me Havers.”

“I can see, but it doesn’t need to be. Not really.”

“Pfft”

“James?”

“Anthony.”

“You like me, right? Like, like me? I’m sorry, I just need to get this straight in my head.” Clearly Anthony was on a self-destruct mission but he’s in far too deep now.

“I… I…”

“I’m not going to force you to say it. I can see there’s a battle going on up there,” Anthony says touching his temple, “but James, I’d like you too hear you say it though.”

“Bally hell.”

“If I had kissed you yesterday, would you have kissed me back?” Anthony asks with pause. He’s immediately wonders he’s overstepping the mark on this one. Just because James has opened himself up, doesn’t mean he is ready for anything else.

In truth, even Anthony’s not sure he’s ready for anything else.

“Pardon?”

“Yes or no,” he repeats, taking a step forward anyway. He’s seeing nothing negative in James’ expression. There’s a little bit wariness behind the eyes, and maybe a touch of confusion thrown in for good measure Anthony notes. “James?”

It’s the smallest hand gesture that finally gives the man away. A clenched first, then a stretch of the fingers that makes Anthony think James wants to reach out and touch him. James’ quick uneasy scan of his surroundings then confirms it for Anthony. “It’s your move,” Anthony says lightly. “The door’s closed, there’s no one else here. No one can see.”

“I…”

Anthony doesn’t know why but he suddenly thinks of Pat and the day Thomas asked him to search Anthony’s bedroom. He remembers Pat holding out his hands in a placating, friendly manner, palms up and open. Nothing to hide. I come in peace. Sensing that it’s a similar situation and yet completely different, Anthony copies Pat’s body language from that day and hopes he gets it right.

Palms open.

Nothing to hide.

Noting the move James nods once, “yes, yes... would that be…” he says.

Anthony does know whether it’s down to Pat’s open hands maneuverer (if it is he will be thanking him at some point) or what, but suddenly and rather wonderfully, Anthony has his personal space full of a very battered and bruised estate manager.

Anthony smiles at the action. James is holding him in his arms, the weight of the man baring down on Anthony’s body like it’s an anchor. It feels perfect. “Okay, well this is…”

“Okay?” A nervous James replies.

“Perfect.”

Anthony’s vaguely aware of James’ arms moving further around his waist before he notices anything else. His own hands have taken it upon themselves to gently trail up the other man’s shoulders – being careful of the bruises peppering his skin – until his fingers are holding the back of James’ head tenderly, his thumbs pressing lightly into the underside of his chin.

It’s a wonderful chin. A strong chin. Classical. Romanesque almost.

“You are very handsome,” Anthony says quietly. The snort James makes has Anthony chuckling in response. “I know what you are thinking – yes, even with all the bruises you are handsome James.”

“I look a bally mess.”

“You do. A handsome bally mess.”

If Anthony is expecting their first kiss to be slow, tender and gentle, he is wrong in every way.

It isn’t.

It’s bruising, open mouthed, deep, and causes a sharp stab of electricity to repeatedly leap up his chest cavity and into his throat. The small gasp and then muffled moan he hears James make in response tells Anthony everything he needs to know.

It’s possibly one of the best kisses Anthony has ever had he decides later.

And speaking of which, and he knows he shouldn’t be getting side-tracked now of all times, but Anthony genuinely can’t remember if he has ever kissed anyone with a moustache before – it tickles yes, but when James continues to kiss him until they don’t stop for a good while, Anthony arrives at the conclusion that moustaches are bloody wonderful.

“A long time coming,” James pants heavily as they part briefly. They don’t let go of one another, not completely anyway, their foreheads stay resting lightly against the other, while their arms are tight and secure around each other’s bodies for the first time.

“In more ways than one?” Anthony also doesn’t think he’s ever been out of breath kissing anyone before. 

“Hmmm, a little.”

“Fancy doing it again? Maybe seated this time. I’m very much aware you were only fighting a deer 24 hours ago.”

“I was not-.”

Anthony smiles and kisses James again, gentler this time with a little bit of tongue for good measure before he can say anything else.

“The sofa maybe?” James suggests with a smile, his lips now red and puffy.

“You’re a dark horse. Netflix and Chill eh?”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“No, I didn’t think you would do. Some more of this then?” Anthony reaches down and kisses James again.

---

James’ sofa is big and fits them both perfectly. They make out (Anthony decides this is the best way to describe what they are doing), watch a little TV, have a cup of tea, some cake, and make out again until the clock strikes midnight and Anthony decides he should return home before he bursts.

“It’s killing me to leave,” he says with a quick peck on James’ lips. “But the right thing to do. Tonight anyway. No rush, for both of us.”

“No… thank you… It’s been quite the few days.”

“Emotional.”

James nods in agreement. “I must tell you though - again - I wasn’t going to report you, nor would I.”

“Thank you.” Anthony replies, unable to believe it – he squeezes James’ hand just to make sure the man knows how grateful he is about it all. “I’ve been in a bit of a state about it all.”

“We both have apparently.”

They kiss one more time (deep, open and full of meaning) before Anthony reluctantly pulls away and walks as steadily as he can do for someone who's blood has rushed to his boxer shorts. He suspects he leaves James stood in the doorway bouncing on the balls of his feet.

 ---

Thank you.

I think I should be thanking you x

My place 6am tomorrow – today!??

Whatever for? And yes x

Rutting season.

Not a euphemism of course.

Of course not, and yes – 6am it is xx

Chapter Text

If you’d have asked Anthony a year ago what he would be doing at 6am on a September Saturday morning 12 months later it would not be sitting astride a quad bike, staring through a set of borrowed binoculars watching two stag’s battling for dominance.

And yet, here he is.

“Have you ridden a quad bike before?” James asks him, before launching into a full Health and Safety lecture on said quad bike.

After a quick and very discreet kiss on the cheek Anthony tells him that he has, many years ago but allows the man to continue anyway – just in case ‘technology has moved on’. It hasn’t, not in the slightest. In fact, Anthony suspects the quad he has been given is the same one he has rode before.

“Be careful,” James tells him firmly, before ignoring his own advice and roaring off into the distance like an absolute hooligan.

“So, what’s going on,” Anthony asks as he reaches a large meadow located on the east side of Button House. Technically it's part of the country park, but as he was told by James many moons ago, during rutting season they separate it off to keep the animals safe. “What am I looking at?” he continues, holding the binoculars up to eyes to get a better view.

It all looks rather tense Anthony thinks. The deer are tense, Robin (who was already there when Anthony and James arrive on the scene and who Anthony didn’t think could ever be tense) also looks tense, and James is tense.

“See them two?”  Robin says from the driving seat of comfortable looking purple 4x4 golf cart. “They’re fighting over the ladies.”

“Ah, I see. Is one Monty?” Anthony asks anyone who will answer. He suspects it will be Robin again considering James leapt off his quad bike moments earlier and is currently stood to attention as though he is on sentry duty at Buckingham Palace.

Upright, arms rigid behind his back giving Anthony a good look of his arse. He suspects James is doing on purpose.

Robin nods, “Cap be worried about him. He’s getting on a bit now. Losing his touch.”

“Oh, does that happen?” Anthony asks. He imagines it happens to all gentleman of a certain age at one point – not just the human variety.

“Yeah, the younger hinds can be a bit fussy. See the young stags under the trees?”

Anthony follows the direction Robin is pointing, chancing another quick look in James’ direction as he does so. The upright stance looks like it’s floundering a touch, which, considering James is still covered in bruises is a little concerning. Gone is the rigid back and square shoulders replaced by a slouch. It doesn’t take an untrained eye to know the man is struggling. Anthony rather suspects he has been struggling for the past two days.

Damn and blast.

“Hey, this direction. Under the trees…” Robin repeats with a small chuckle.

“Oh yes, sorry, of course… oh yes. What are they doing there?” Anthony replies as casually as he can, his eyes now entirely focused on the younger deer huddled under the tree.

“Lying in wait. They’ll try and mate with one of the hinds when Monty and Apollo are too exhausted to fight anymore. Or if one of them two wins and becomes King of the Castle.”

“King of the Castle, eh? Sounds very Henry VIII. Hang on did you say Apollo?”

“Aye, Monty’s younger brother. Cap let me name him.”

“So, you’re in his corner, are you?”

Robin winks cheekily in response. “He won’t win, Monty’s still top dog. Maybe next year. Although £10 says my guy is winner.”

Anthony tuts playfully. “God almighty Robin. We still have an ongoing bet around my brother falling, and you now want me to go head-to-head with you on red deer boxing?”

Robin’s laugh is almost conspiratorial. “Is still good bet Doc. Bossman Thomas not fallen yet but he will.”

“I will only pay up if there are witnesses to my brother’s roman empire Robin.”

“Deal for both.”

“Deal,” he says with a shake of Robin’s hand.

“He hurt,” Robin says after a moment.

Initially Anthony thinks Robin is talking about one of the stags (although young buck Apollo does look exhausted) until he follows the direction of the other man’s gaze once more back to where James is stood looking very uncomfortable.

“Shoulder,” Robin tells him.   

Anthony sighs softly at the sight before him. “Indeed.”

“Go hospital. Told him yesterday.”

“He won’t go.”

If Robin has an opinion about that statement, he surprisingly doesn’t respond. In fact, the man is wearing an expression Anthony has no hope of deciphering.

“You tell him,” he says firmly, and Anthony feels like he has just been told off. “Oh gotta go,” Robin continues quickly, his tone this time a little softer – although not by much. Before Anthony can respond the man has driven off towards a car that’s pulled up to photograph the deer.

“Need to keep the public away from them.” James explains, as he strides uncomfortably back towards to the quads bike’s and to where Anthony is now stood alone. “Dangerous stuff is rutting season. The stags they can get quite violent. We like to keep the public away.”

James looks terrible.

Absolutely terrible.

Even his silver hair is looking a little duller this morning.

Later Anthony is going to ruddy well kick himself in the arse that he missed it.

“You’re in pain,” Anthony states. As he speaks, his eyes flick down towards James’. They appear a little glazed over and Anthony knows James is just about holding it together. “Good lord James – it’s only been 2 or 3 days since your accident. Your left shoulders fractured, or your clavicle is. That’s absolutely my professional opinion.”   

“Utter tosh. I… slept funny that is all.” James replies quickly, chin raised ready for battle. Then, for good measure he follows the statement up with a series of tuts and noises.

Anthony laughs and shakes his head. Unbelievable. “Yeah, we are going to Accident & Emergency.”

“We are not-.”

“Doctors orders James.”

The nearest hospital walk-in centre to Button House is over five miles away and is already busy by the time Anthony tips up with a disgruntled looking James. It’s not a big hospital – it reminds Anthony of the GP surgery he worked from in London once. Red brick walls, sash windows. It has a feel of somewhere (like a lot of NHS buildings have) that it needs a lot of money spending on it.

“I warned you the other day we should have come, god knows what they are going to say,” Anthony tells him as he hears James huffing at the whiteboard indicating there is a 3 hour wait. “That’s not too bad,” he adds optimistically as he can.    

They finally make their way down to x-ray after only an hour. At James’ request Anthony accompanies him to the cubicle to be triaged by a very thorough and stern looking nurse and is now escorting James towards the A&E Radiology area to where James is getting both shoulders x-rayed and his elbow for good measure.

They also redress his forehead, assess the bruises and listen with patience as he recounts the deer story and all about Anthony being a GP.

Anthony isn’t sure how he is going to look any of these staff in the face again after that disclosure.

“I told you so,” Anthony says as they take a seat on an empty corridor. He’s not smug, not in the slightest.

Not at all.

“Are you the GP? Does that one in there belong to you?” A nurse asks Anthony with a nod towards the lead sheet lined doors of the Radiology room. James has just been escorted inside and Anthony can hear he’s already blustering at something. “He’s not happy.”

“Yes, he’s mine… and he’s stubborn,” Anthony says without thinking.

“Oh dear,” she replies with a wry smile. “You’ve got your hands full, haven’t you? I’m sure once they get some good meds in him, he’ll be calmer.”

***

“It’s a fractured collar bone,” Anthony declares after taking a quick look at the images the FY2 has left on the bed (Anthony knows it’s a FY2 Doctor just from the harassed expression they are wearing – he remembers it well). “Not a particularly pleasant one by the looks of it as well. You’re going to be in a sling for a couple of weeks.”

“Good lord.”

“You can’t say I didn’t warn you,” Anthony nods, sipping at the Costa coffee he sought out for himself before they were deposited back into a cubicle. “I also wish you’d told me you were in so much pain.”

“I wasn’t.”

Anthony cocks an eyebrow at that. “Utter bollocks.”

“I didn’t think it was appropriate,” James says shifting awkwardly on the bed. There’s a wince, a look of pain and then a sigh.

“Dear god.” This time Anthony rolls his eyes hard enough for them to nearly fall out. “Did last night not happen?” he now whispers. “I could have hurt you. You could have hurt you.”

“Hardly likely. We were very careful… very… well you know.”

“Hmmm, I do,” Anthony replies with a light-hearted leer. Purposely keeping his voice low.  There has been a lot of kissing and nothing else of course.

There probably won’t be for a while given that James is now going to be in a sling.

Plus, Anthony isn’t even sure he is ready for anything else yet.

And judging by the colour James’ face has turned, neither is he.  

“Anthony please.”

“Come here you,” Anthony quietly says after a beat.

He suddenly wants to hold James’ hand even if it’s just for a moment. Positioning his left hand on top of the hospital blanket he leaves it palm facing up next to James’ right leg. “Just give me a minute, I just need to know…”

Anthony’s not even looking directly at James, and he senses the man’s hesitation immediately. Once again Anthony watches as James flexes his fingers before lifting his head and nodding towards the almost closed curtain partition.   

“Do you want me to close it completely?” He asks quietly and James nods again in response. “Hang on then.”

With the cubicle curtain closed, Anthony returns to his seat and repeats the action with his hand as before. This time (and without hesitation) James tangles his fingers softly with Anthony.

“That’s better. I’m going to stay at yours tonight. On the sofa obviously,” he says after a while, giving the hand in his a quick squeeze. “I think you may need some help. We’ll get some food in you – and go from there.”

“Are you sure? It’s probably for the best.”

“Perfectly, you’ve had the good meds now and I reckon they will be round in a bit with better sling so put your head back, so close your eyes and relax. You look bloody exhausted.”    

“Erm. What’s this?” Anthony says dumping his keys onto the small wooden sideboard James has by The Folly’s front door. He’s not really noticed the small terracotta dish sat on there before. He knows it’s where James stores all his other keys – for the workshops, the feed store and the barns, but he’s never really noticed the dish and its contents on previous visits.

“What? What’s what?” James is already attempting to awkwardly strip himself of his coat. Anthony would probably find it funny if hadn’t had to listen to the man grumble all the way home from an appointment at the fracture clinic. More importantly if his own attention wasn’t on the folded Walkers crisp packet sat next to the Land Rover keys.

“Do you do that to? Fold your crisp packets?” he asks, picking up the folded plastic triangle.

It can’t be, he thinks.

No.

“Ah… well, no…” James says – albeit with a stutter. “You left it on the bench, that morning. I… I was going to… litter Anthony…Button House!”

Anthony sighs. “Oh… right… well that’s not 100% embarrassing – not in the slightest! Shall we put it in the bin then?” He says, very much embarrassed and confused.

“No… no… just, you can leave it there. Please Havers.”

“Oh.”

“Did you know he needed an operation?” Fanny asks as soon as Anthony sits down to join her for lunch in the café.

“Hello to you to,” he replies, eyebrow raised as he does so.

“Anthony Havers for the love of god, please. You never answered my question. Why is the Captain going in for surgery tomorrow. I thought it was just fracture.”

“Open reduction and internal fixation O-R-I-F surgery, to be precise.”

“What does that even mean? Layman’s terms please.”

“He needs some screws in there. It was worse than we thought.”

“We?”

“Me and Humphrey. And Kitty.”

“How long will he be out of action for?”

“About a month. Maybe more. Certified stubborn bastard, isn’t he? So next week if it’s left up to him,” Anthony answers with a wince. He’s still not recovered from listening to James complain about the planned surgery all the way home from his latest outpatient appointment.

“A month!”

“Hmmm, good chips today, are you not having any sister?”

“I’ve eaten,” she replies turning up her nose at Anthony’s plate. “A light lunch. You didn’t answer my question though.”

“Ask me again, I got distracted.”

“Is he going to be, okay?” Fanny asks him again. She’s concerned, that much is obvious. She almost looks worried.  

“Yeah, they’ve got to monitor his heart a bit when he’s under, but he should be okay.”

“Okay, well let me know how he is so I can tell the team – they are all very concerned. Humphrey won’t tell me a thing, but you are my brother and that overrides anything.”

“I’m not 100% sure it does Fanny. This isn’t some mafioso family first business shit.”

“Good grief. Just text me – put it in the group chat or tell Pat. It’ll probably be quicker that way thinking about it. You’ll be the first one to know anyway.”

Anthony stares at her. “When exactly did I…” he starts to say but she has already stood up and walked out the café.

I look awful <image attached>

You’ve just had surgery & you are on strong medication

Also, I think you look handsome as always x

The two weeks leading up to James’ operation feel like the longest of Anthony’s life. Sleeping on James’ sofa hasn’t been ideal, but it’s felt like the right thing to Anthony tells himself repeatedly.

Today though, James is being discharged and driven back to Button House by Kitty who steps in when both he and Humphrey can’t reschedule their daily clinics.

“Do you think he’s going to be okay? Was his heart okay?” Anthony asks, turning on a heel to pace in the opposite direction across Humphrey’s clinic room. The operation had been delayed due to James’ heart. Not that it had been a big worry but according to his heart Consultant – who Anthony ends up (with James’ permission) having a brief conversation with. James’ heart is delicate little thing from all accounts - ‘tell him to lay off the salt if you can’ Mr Schnieder had said before hanging up.

Anthony still hasn’t, not yet anyway.

“Kitty said he was okay,” Humphrey finally replies. “Bit out of it, started talking about hospital rations, but mostly okay. He’s on his way home now.”

“Right.” Anthony replies. “Right.”

“Are you going around later?”

Anthony nods. “Possibly, I asked him if he wanted me too.”

“And?”

“Yes, apparently.”   

“Well then, I’m sure you are worrying about nothing.”

“Right.”

“You don’t sound convinced mate.”

“No, I don’t think I am to be honest Humphrey.”

***

The Folly is in darkness when he arrives.

Practically sprinting up the garden path, Anthony gives the front door a quick rap and pushes gently on the painted green surface.

“James?” he says quietly into the empty space, pushing the door closed as he does so. For some reason he even flicks the bolt across.

There is a small table light switched on illuminating the lounge area but apart from that there is nothing. No movement or signs of life.

“James? Are you there?” He asks again his anxiety rising a little. The last time he’d felt like this was the day of the incident with the deer, except now this time there is no bloody James.

He steps further into the living area enough to see the bag James used for the hospital has been left at the bottom of the spiral stairs, yet apart from that there is nothing.

“James?” This time he shouts it up towards the mezzanine floor that houses the bedroom, office and full bathroom. It’s not somewhere Anthony has ever been – except many many years ago when he used The Folly as a place to hide. Back then it hadn’t been watertight – or safe – come to think of it. Now it’s just feels a little overwhelming to even think of putting his foot on that first step. “James are you there?”

He hears what he thinks is the shower door sliding open, “James?” he says up towards the bathroom.

It’s a good 30 seconds before he gets a reply but eventually, he hears James yelling a muffled sounding ‘Anthony’ before going onto say, “Can you help, I need help!”

For a moment Anthony wonders how the hell to answer that.

“Erm yes?! he replies with shout. Given that he suspects James might well be in the shower he’s not ready for this, not by a million miles.

He certainly can’t deny the fact that he fancies James, they’ve spent a lot of time kissing and cuddling on the sofa but this feels like a step too-

“Up here, help.”

“Oh Jesus, what have you done James!”

Anthony takes the stairs and reaches the bathroom door in about seven steps. He knocks lightly at first, it’s open, which is good he briefly thinks. Less barriers to get through on one hand but not enough on the other.

“Oh,” Anthony exclaims as he enters the very posh, five-star hotel standard bathroom. There’s grey slate, artwork, tiles, a toilet, sink and vanity area and rather than a bath there is a massive double rainfall shower stall taking up almost half the space. It shouldn’t be what grabs his attention, but it is, “no expense spared in here was there!”

“Good hygiene is priority!” James shouts from under one of the rainfall showerheads. It’s enough for Anthony to stop staring at artwork of a naked man to an actual naked man covering in soap suds and shampoo.

Blimey.

“I can’t reach.”

“What?!”

“My arm. I can hardly lift it. Why is my neck hurting me? It wasn’t like this before!”

“You literally had surgery two days ago on your shoulder and by your neck.”

“And!?” The frustration is coming off the man in waves.

“God Almighty,” Anthony whispers before following it up with something that sounds like stubborn bastard. “So, what do you need my help with?”

Rather than answer James simply looks at Anthony like he is stupid.

“You look exhausted James. Do you want me too…?”

“Help, yes,” he huffs without any hesitation.

It’s obvious the man is high on codeine.

“Right… you know that means… don’t you?” Anthony steps further into the bathroom as he speaks. He looks at the shower, then the state of James and then his own clothes. “I’m going to get soaked.”

***

It’s silly really, Anthony thinks. It’s just skin. He sees and touches a lot of skin throughout the day. Arms, legs, tummy’s, feet and the rest. But this time it’s his skin. His body. He keeps it hidden under layers, jumpers and fleeces for a reason.

He hasn’t been naked (or even semi naked come to think of it) in front of anyone else for a long time. Not even his family, the morning they all burst into his bedroom no one saw anything. He and Graham had separate bedrooms for a few years, then there was covid and all the rest of the things he knows has done a hatchet job on his on his confidence and subsequently his appetite.

He wonders what James’ will think when he sees him for the first time. Will the man be repulsed? Disgusted? Or not even notice?

“Anthony? Are you okay?”  

Initially Anthony leaves his boxer shorts on and then decides he is being ridiculous and slips them off leaving them on the bedroom floor. “I’m here,” he says quietly (and nervously).

James is standing with his back to the shower entrance. Now with a better view – if you can call it that – Anthony attempts to distract his own head by quietly inspecting the areas where thick bruises once had covered James’ torso.

“You’re nearly healed on your back and sides,” he says sliding the glass door open. “Can I…?” he then asks with a nod. Somehow it feels rude to just step inside someone’s shower without asking.

Not that he’s stepped inside many occupied showers in his time.

“Oh… yes. Of course, do come in,” James replies in the same manner he would inviting someone in for a cup of tea and a piece of cake.

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

For some reason both their voices are low and quiet.

“Is this, okay?” Anthony softly enquires. James’ very posh rainfall shower is making most of the noise. That and James’ out of breath panting. “You’ve got yourself into a right state, haven’t you?” Anthony goes onto ask before fully taking in the sight in front of him. There’s shampoo and shower gel everywhere, a wet towel, what looks like a t-shirt, underpants, some medical dressings covering the shower tray and a makeshift waterproof cover James has fashioned out of an Asda carrier bag and some medical tape by the looks of it.

“I can’t lift my arm to reach, my neck hurts too,” James repeats his early complaint. Then, for what Anthony suspects is for effect he holds his arm limply in demonstration.

Anthony cocks his eyebrow at the action. “I wonder why?” he teases softly. “That new metalwork they put in your clavicle two days ago probably hasn’t settled in yet.”

James simply blusters in response.

“Come here,” Anthony whispers. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Somehow, he doesn’t blush once rinsing James’ silver hair and washing off the soap suds from James very naked body. Anthony takes it as minor win for about two minutes until he realises James is not so subtly to eyeing him up and down.

“How much weight have you lost Havers?” James asks harshly and very suddenly. “You’re underweight, aren’t you?”

This time it’s Anthony’s turn to huff. “James, I appreciate your concern, I do, but…”

“How much?”

Anthony looks away, ducking his face burning with shame under the water.

“Well? Answer me man.”

Anthony can feel the words telling James to piss off on the on the tip of his tongue. Normally he engages crisis mode and attempts to deflect this sort of stuff with humour, but the way James is looking at him, not critical or judging is-   

“It happened when I found out… with Graham,” he says after a deep breath.

“What did?”

“I hardly ate James. My appetite disappeared and couldn’t keep anything down, and when I did it, it was/is unhealthy stuff – kebabs, takeaways, Just endless bacon butties – I had Just Eats on speed dial. I think I was in shock – and the weight, it dropped off me. I’m better now, you’ve seen me eat. In fact, looking back, meeting you for lunch helped a lot. I sometimes forget to eat to. I’ve got better, since I came here.”

“Hmmm. You are bally well still underweight. What on earth did that man do to you to cause this?”

Anthony has never spoken about this. Never. Not even to friends or family. He finds himself swallowing to hold back the truth forming in his throat. “Nothing that I didn’t know was happening,” he finally confesses.   

“Pardon?”

He knows his words have confused James. “He asked for an open marriage. Graham that is.”

“I don’t even-.”

“He wanted to us see others, have boyfriends and remain married.”

Now James looks even more confused. “Isn’t that cheating?” he asks quizzically.

“Not if you know about it apparently. Or even when you don’t.”

“Ah, goodness me, what an absurd thing to ask someone you love,” James replies, the penny finally dropping. “And did you? Open marriage?”

Anthony shakes his head. “Not once. Never. I couldn’t… I realised very early on it had to… must, mean something,” he says slightly more firmly than he should.

He hopes James gets the message. The amount of people Anthony has had sex with someone could count on one hand. He doesn’t think himself to be picky or a snob about it, but even at medical school unlike his friends (male or female), he never felt the need to jump into bed with all and sundry.

Kiss them yes. That he could do.

Sex though, he was almost scared of it.  

“I… feel the same, after Mark…it has to means something,” James tells him with a slight stutter.

The admission has Anthony’s heart glowing softly, “I’m okay though, I swear. A little underweight, but I’m better than I was, I’m eating more regular – half of the café’s profits come from me! You should have seen me a year ago.”

“I’m rather glad I didn’t!”

James doesn’t look convinced – even with their mini declarations to one another. For a long time they let the water wash over them, the large shower stall accommodating them both perfectly. At some point – Anthony can’t say when – James places his hands on Anthony’s arms and gently and cautiously runs them over Anthony’s arms and chest.

It’s almost like he is making an inventory of Anthony’s own lumps and bumps.

“You do have a lovely chest and arms,” James declares after a few minutes of touching. “I need you to eat more though. I can feel your hips bones.” 

Leaning forward Anthony places a light kiss on James lips. “I am, I promise. Have you eaten a portion of Mary’s chips?? Listen, I…I didn’t mean to bring the mood down though. You’re the injured one here not me. I came into help you.”

“Utter tosh. We help each other – I hope.” James tells him before replicating Anthony’s kiss – this time for a little longer and deeper.

Anthony chuckles when James lets him breath again. “If you carry on kissing me like that James, we’ll need to help each other out in a different way.”

“Oh…? OH!”

Anthony knows he needs to be brave one when they are together at the moment, but he wants James’ hands on him and vice versa. Very suddenly he’s never wanted anything more. “You can touch me if you want to. There. I know we haven’t up to now, but I’d like you too.”

James replies after taking a deep breath. He then clears his throat before replying. “Really?”

“Absolutely.” Anthony answers with a wide smile and nod. “The door’s locked. It’s just us.”

“Hmmm, erm… well… I did used to… enjoy…”

“I’m a fan also.” Anthony says with a wink. The change in mood between them is like a balm to his soul. Anthony suddenly wants everything or nothing. Either. All. “How about we start slowly and then later, we can see if our knees can keep up. Deal.”

“Walk of shame, eh?” The voices bellows across Button Houses’ ballroom echoing around the large space.

“What?”

“Walk of shame… we’ve all been there – you find a half decent ten to two’r in the club and take them home, slip them a warm one, escape when you can.”

Julian.

Anthony knew his luck was going to run out sooner or later. The fact that it’s Julian who is the one to catch him returning to Button House from James’ at such an early hour only makes it worse.

To be honest it’s a half miracle no one else has caught him sooner considering he stays at James’ most nights – the bed is more comfortable for a start – but Anthony’s found that he just likes being with James.

They eat – James is very keen on the feeding side. Even more so after the conversation in the shower a few weeks ago. They watch a documentary or two (James is currently smarting that Anthony’s knowledge of the D-Day landings is quite extensive - thank you BBC programming). Then they go to bed. Sometimes there is sex ‘my knees/shoulder/neck Anthony’, and sometimes there isn’t and Anthony is 100% okay with that.  

What makes it frustrating that he’s been caught this morning though is that he did plan to leave 30 minutes earlier, but James also woke up causing an urgent situation to develop that required some attention (James’ words not Anthony’s).

“No need Julian, absolutely no need,” Anthony replies with a sigh, turning to face the man. As usual he is wearing that god awful suit he had and a smug smile. “I stayed at a friend's house if you must know. It’s allowed, I’m not sure I need your permission. What are you doing here at 5.45am anyway.”

“Hmmm, friend, eh?” it’s almost a sneer.

“Yes… a friend. So, what are you doing here? Does Fanny know you stomp around the place in the middle of the night?”

Julian replies without any hesitation, “future planning Anthony! Moving Button House forward. Speculate to accumulate – you know your father had great plans for this place! Golf-”

“Father hated golf.”

“Golf, Hotel, spas… diversification.”

“I think my brother and sister have been quite firm on those ideas.”

Julian almost laughs in response, “well, maybe it’s time for a change. Move forward,” he continues. It almost sounds like the start of a parliamentary speech. “What is it? It’s now the start of November, you only have a few months left to sort out the peerage, haven’t you? Who knows what the future holds Anthony.”

“I know what you are doing Julian,” Anthony says quietly. He isn’t a violent man, but Julian really does bring out the worst in him.

“Well, it’s funny you should say that…” Julian replies with a sneer. “Because I who you are doing Anthony – so all’s fair in love and war.”

“Come here,” Anthony’s voice is low and gentle, he knows James can’t hear him but hopes the light coming through the Velux windows is illuminating the room enough that the man can see movement in Anthony’s lips. With his hand in James’ silver hair, he runs his fingers lightly through the strands, kissing his forehead as he does so.

In the distance the sound of fireworks exploding as Button House’s yearly bonfire night celebration continues in the distance.

James of course, isn’t in attendance. Instead, he has his headphones in and is cocooned inside the weighted blanket Anthony had sourced him a week earlier.

Personally Anthony doesn’t think he has ever felt more at peace.

He isn’t sure how he does it, but Anthony finally gets the suitcase containing Mick out of Button House without being seen. He feels like a thief in the night – which, considering he owns Mick and well – let’s be honest – Button House, is rather stupid.

It helps of course that it’s 8pm at night, pitch dark and Button House is pretty much settled for the evening.

“What on earth is that?” James asks the moment Anthony walks in through the front door of The Folly.

“Mick.”

“Your skeleton?”

“The very same.”

“Why is Mick in my house?” James asks. He’s sporting an old regiment t-shirt, black pants, a chef’s apron, camo green slippers and is holding a spatula.

It’s a marvellous sight.

“It’s Christmas and you have no tree – so I thought Mick here could be your tree. I have fairy lights,” Anthony adds proudly. He hadn’t initially – but thought it better to be prepared and so nipped to the Tesco on his way home from work. “When I was at medical school, I would dress him up in tinsel and hang decorations off him. He’ll look quite the bobby dazzler even if I do say so myself.”

“Oh.”

“In the corner, to the right of the TV?” Anthony suggests. Giving James no time to answer Anthony is already opening the box and unfolding Mick’s bones from his current foetal position.

“There’s a spare plug socket, down there,” James tells him. “I have a double socket if needed.”

Anthony will take that as a positive.

“There see,” he says after twenty minutes of fiddling with the fairy lights. The two situated in his eye sockets look a little sinister but never mind. Mick, Anthony decides, looks absolutely fantastic.

“How does that look?”

“Rather spiffing. He looks quite at home,” James says after a deep pause. “I’ve made chips for tea; they might not be as good as Mary’s but I’m sure I’ve done her proud. Twice baked.”

“Smashing stuff.”

Good Morning <Image Attached>

Mick is settling in then x

No disruptive behaviour as of yet!

“Good lord what time is?”

“2.30pm.”

“Is it? I have a meeting with Julian and Fanny in half an hour about the winter closure plans.” James is out of bed and striding naked across the bedroom before he’s even finished the sentence. Not for the first time Anthony is silently cursing his sister and thanking the powers that be for James’ arse simultaneously.

They probably could have squeezed a mutual blow job in before his last clinic before Christmas starts at 3pm if it wasn’t for Button House’s management team strict insistence on administration.

“Damn shame.”

“What?” James replies, his head bobbing back around the bathroom door apparently so he can hear Anthony better. His hair is still ruffled and his buffs all out to sea. To Anthony he looks bloody gorgeous.

“I was just thinking. Sex on a Tuesday afternoon – Christmas Eve of all days as well. Terribly rebellious, feels like we are skipping school to have a quick smoke around the back of the bike sheds. I would certainly be up for it again.”

“You skipped school to smoke??” James’ tone borders on shocked.

“That what you took from that? That I might have skipped school? Or smoked?”

“No, but yes…really? Again?”

“Hmmm, don’t sound so surprised James. You know you just rocked my world.”

“I did?”

“Absolutely top-notch shag. Feel like I might be walking with a bit of a limp back into the surgery but worth it.”

“ANTHONY!”

It was worth it even more just to see the top of James ears turn crimson.

Dragging himself out of bed, Anthony still naked (with James’ quite forceful encouragement he’s got a little more comfortable doing that these past few weeks), walks towards a now fully clothed James currently straightening his tie.

“Come here,” Anthony says lightly, holding out his hand for James to take. Instead, James ignores it and slides into Anthony’s arms without missing a beat. “You know I like spending time with you.” Anthony says placing a gentle kiss on James, forehead, “and it’s obvious I’d like to keep doing this Captain. Maybe not as rushed next time. I like it when we take our time.”

“I like that too.”

“Then we are on the same page, but Button House meetings and the physical health of the nation mean we don’t have time for anything more now. Maybe later? I should be finished by 5.30pm. The last few patients are of a certain age and like to talk about anything other than their ailment, but I can shift them along easy enough. As planned, I’ll nip back to the house and then come here.”

Anthony isn’t like to forget the smile that breaks out on James’ face at the suggestion. “Steak? A I will cook.”

Anthony lightly kisses James’s nose. “Steak would be excellent. I will bring the wine.”

“Dr Havers?”

“Speaking.”

“Janice Howard, Brookgate Surgery. You applied for a locum position with us a few months ago.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Apologies it’s taken so long, but we’d like to invite you for an interview.”

“Hmmm okay.”

“Tuesday 21^st January – there’s a few positions. As you know we have multiple practices across London.”

“Right.”

“Can I send you the details?”

“Erm yes?”

“Wonderful. I shall look forward to you meeting you.”

“Apologies Havers, I won’t be able to make yours, Stephanie’s and Thomas’ birthday meal,” James says to him after lunch at the bench one day.

They still meet – although not as often as Anthony is mostly staying at The Folly every night except when he is on call.

“Okay…?”

“I need to go to London,” James continues. “I have an outpatient appointment with my consultant. I completely forgot what with everything going on and Button House closing for it's usual five week break.”

Anthony cocks his eyebrow, “that’s okay, is everything okay? With your heart that is.”

“Yes, strictly routine. Yearly thing. It’s first thing in the morning so I’m travelling the night before. Staying near the clinic.”

“Mr Schnieder?”

“Yes. I see him in his private practice – not by choice – the Army pays.”

“Do they?!”

“Hmmm, yes – It’s a veteran thing. But also, I was bit of a special case. The… the explosion that killed Derek, technically also killed me – well it damaged my heart as well as the knee.”

“That’s…” Anthony doesn’t know what to say to that. James hasn’t spoken about the explosion much – Anthony knows a little of his heart problems but not all. Not in depth.

“I had my first cardiac arrests in 2010, then again in 2013. Technically I had seven then.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Hmmm. They defibbed me multiple times – very similar to some footballer person so I’m told.”

It takes Anthony a moment. “Fabrice Muamba,” he answers. “Happened during a football game. Don’t ask me how I know that. I’m still required to complete NHS Basic Life Support training would you believe? A lovely scouse lady does the training and she told us all about him.”

“Really? And yes, my heart stopped for 52 minutes.”

“God almighty.”

“Anyway, less about my heart – can we celebrate the day after? The 7^th? I will be back, and I’d like to take you out for dinner. You only turn 43 once.”

“Oh.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a date actually.”

Email To:            Anthony Havers (NHS Button House Surgery)

From:                 Janice Howard, (NHS Brookgate Surgery)

Subject:              Interview date

We are pleased to confirm the following interview date for the position of Locum General Practitioner (18-month contract) as discussed.

We look forward to meeting with you and welcoming you to our practice. If you are unable to attend the interview, please contact me on my direct line - number below.

Interview Date:               21/01/2025

Time:                             11am

Your interview will be with myself and Dr David Joshi, Senior Partner.

Best wishes

Janine Howard

Practice Manager

Chapter Text

Heard you were in London, sick of the country life already?

Who is this?

Technically your ex-husband

Right. What do you want.

Nothing much, I thought you might have contacted me for a catch up.

Why?

Jesus your techy – that mausoleum of a house got to finally, did it?

Please fuck off Graham, lose my number

Also, it’s you’re*

Had London always been this busy / noisy / bright / polluted, Anthony wonders. There’s always been an aura of tension to the place as if the whole city is waiting on an edge for something to go down, but he’s never known it feel as bad as it does right at this instant.

He certainly hasn’t seen this many police helicopters circling above his head, as he has since leaving Charing Cross station.

In fact, since moving back to the countryside he wasn’t even sure he’d seen a police car.

He suspects it’s what happens when you don’t visit or step foot in a place for nearly twelve months. So maybe he has been away from the place to long. Especially a place where a person sets up stall and never expects to leave.

It feels quite overwhelming.

“Fucking hell,” he swears under his breath as he exits the station’s main entrance and gets his bearings. If he remembers rightly there is a small independent coffee shop just on one of the side streets he could visit before making his way back to the train station and his connection to Bexley Health.

Eventually finding the coffee shop – he got himself lost twice - Anthony orders himself an expresso (the first one in twelve months) and takes a seat at the breakfast bar style bench that faces the window.

He’d told James about the interview three days earlier.

Having built himself up into such a frenzy about it all, he gave the game away that something was afoot and therefore unsettling him when he declined breakfast two mornings on the trot.

‘Have you eaten today?’ James had asked him, to which Anthony lies and said yes.

James, of course saw right through it and the next hour of Anthony’s evening was spent explaining that a locum job he had applied for back in September had finally got back to him. James had taken it well, Anthony thought, declaring it to be extremely bad form if he declined the interview. ‘Quite right, you must go,’ James told him before excusing himself to go and check on the river levels outside.

Anthony doesn’t think he will ever forget the expression of utter confusion James wore earlier that morning. Even when he’d insisted Anthony wear one of his regimental scarfs under his winter coat. ‘A soldier is always prepared,’ James shakily told him before tucking the tasselled ends into Anthony’s coat and closing the zip.

Anthony reaches Brookgate Surgery minutes before his interview is due to start. He’s a little hot and flustered after being crammed into a busy train carriage like a sardine but nevertheless he gets there in good time.

The surgery itself is a modern one, similar in a way to Button House Surgery. It’s slightly bigger, has its own pharmacy and what looks like several different clinical teams using it as a base. As usual for a city centre GP surgery, the waiting room is full, yet compared to the rest of London it’s relatively quiet. The odd sound from a mobile phone noise breaks the silence every now and again but mostly there is nothing.

Rather different to the Button House waiting room, Anthony realises suddenly – which most of the time feels like a noisy village community hall.

Only last week he’d needed to ask someone to take their wheelbarrow outside.

“Dr Havers, we been looking forward to meeting you,” a man – who he assumed is Dr Joshi - says as he walks up to greet Anthony. He’s not much older than Anthony, but Anthony can see the stress of the job makes him look older. “You come highly recommended,” he says after a pause.

“I do?”

“Hmmm, yes. We have a mutual colleague – Humphrey? We trained together at Queen Mary’s.”

“Oh. I hadn’t realised.”

“When I saw where your current placement was, I thought to myself – my god it’s Old Headless Humphrey’s place that! I gave him a call; told me I’d be lucky to have you.”

“Headless Humphrey??” Anthony exclaims, ignoring the rest of the sentence.

“Hmmm, hasn’t he hold you?”

“No, he hasn’t…” Anthony says. He’ll certainly be asking Humphrey for his side of the story when he gets back to Button House.

“Well, it’s a funny story involving a Halloween fancy dress outfit. I went as one of the Bee Gees. Barry, I think. I was much thinner back then of course.”

“Right…”

“Anyway, less of that. Welcome to Brookgate. Let’s tell you a bit about the place, shall we?”

***

Anthony leaves London as quickly as he arrived, without passing Go and collecting £200.

In fact, and in all honesty, he can’t wait to escape, which shocks him a little. He had planned to sight see and reminisce a little, contact one of his friends and let them know he was in town – and yet when it came down to leaving Brookgate all he wanted to do was find the next train out of the place.

He doesn’t think it helped when they advised him midway through the interview the locum position was for a new clinic in Chiswick. Chiswick of all places, where Anthony had lived and where Graham still lived with his current partner. On hearing that information a cold icy shiver ran down Anthony spine causing him to flinch involuntary – a reaction Dr Joshi did not miss.

Could he work in Chiswick?

Near Graham?

It would mean having to find lodgings, possibly shop in the same shops, or drinking in the same bars as the man, and Anthony isn’t sure he can do that to himself again.

Not again anyway.

His need to leave London (which he will require some mental unpacking when he gets home – seeing as all he has done for 11 months is want to return to the place) however is of course hampered by British Rail and the fact he is currently sat at Wimbledon Station in the sickly warm air of a packed train carriage.

He texts James a photo of said packed carriage.

I’m on my way home x <image attached>

The two blue ticks tell him James reads the text but doesn’t respond.

By the time Anthony arrives back to the nearest train station to Button House and to where his car is parked, dusk has fallen. Of course, it’s late January so the nights still draw in early, but Anthony can see it’s already taking a little longer for the sun to go down as he looks out and across the fields that back onto the station’s car park.

On impulse he decides to take a right at the gatehouse rather than go to Button House, but rather than go directly to The Folly, Anthony pulls his old SUV into the small layby he’s claimed as his own and makes his way towards the bench next to the graveyard.

It’s cold, but not freezing, although judging by the clear skies above there will probably be a frost tomorrow morning. Tucking James’s scarf around tighter around his neck he inhales the scent of the man that lingers on the thick wool and walks towards the bench, taking a seat.

“Anthony? Is that you?” a voice says. The sound of two pairs boots marching up the road follow it.

“Fanny? Thomas?” He says recognising the outline of their silhouettes against the tree line. Why on earth…? 

“Brother Mine,” Thomas replies. “We thought you might come this way.”

“What are you two doing up here?” he asks them both. Fanny looks exhausted.

Without speaking she indicates for him to move up along the bench as they get closer and plonks herself down heavily next to Anthony with Thomas the other side of her. “We have some news,” she says with a puff. “Gosh it’s a long trek up that hill, I told you we should have come in Robin’s golf cart, I’m not as young as I once was apparently.”

Thomas eyes her disapprovingly, “whatever for – the walk will do you good Fanny. And yes Anthony, we have news.”

“Oh.”

“Are you okay? You looked like you where deep in thought then.”

Anthony shrugs lightly at them both. “It’s been a day.”

“Oh yes, the job interview, Humphrey told me, I’m not going to ask you about it, I’ve been told not to.” Fanny replies firmly. She’s dying to ask him; he knows she is. “London,” she adds in disgust.

“Hmmm, other stuff also – I don’t want to talk about it at the moment - but you said you have news.”

“Okay… and yes, we do. We’ve – well I’ve found Mother’s diaries,” Thomas says, pulling a A3 size journal from one of his inside pockets. “And well yes.”

Anthony leans back on the bench for support more than anything. “God almighty,” he says softly. “What a fucking day. And? Hang on where were they?”

It’s Fanny who answers. Anthony hadn’t noticed at what point she slipped an arm through his, repeating the same action with Thomas, but he could feel her pulling him closer as she speaks. “The bed. Your bed, the wooden one from your room – the fourposter. It was stored in the large attic area. We’d all missed it.”

So, Thomas hasn’t had it all this time – and yet… “I grew up sleeping on Mother’s journals??”

“Hmmm, yes. The irony. I wonder if she suspected that was the last place Father would look.”

Anthony doesn’t care – although accepts it does rather make sense when he thinks about it. “And…?”

“Here. We’ve read them. You should be able to see in this light.”

Thomas hands him the journal like it is precious antiquity. “I’ve put post it notes on the pages you need to read. Although the entry for January 8^th is the important one.”

“Right.”

The light isn’t great, but Anthony manages to read the entries from the 5^th of January 1982 through to the 9^th with ease. “Dear god,” he says lightly as he carefully closes the book shut, it’s pages delicate with age. “That’s, that then…”

“Hmmm.”

For a long time, no one says a word. The temperate is dropping, Anthony can feel the cool air biting at his cheeks and the ends of his fingers. As if on instinct he reaches for Fanny’s hand and twists his fingers into her at the same time as Thomas does on the other side. The three of them huddled together almost feels like when they where children on days out or being ferried off to boarding school in the back of a car.

“I’m going to have to change my birth certificate,” he says after a while. There’s a hint of shock creeping through into this voice. He almost feels like he wants to laugh. “We don’t even share the same birthday!”

Whatever Anthony is experiencing it’s obvious Fanny and Thomas are also experiencing the same emotion. What starts with a scoff from Thomas, turns into a laugh from Fanny and then all three of them are laughing into the night air.

“Oh god, don’t,” Fanny says finally but she’s still laughing, tears running down her face. “Don’t, I’m already an emotional hormonal mess at the moment as it is, and you both are just making it worse.”

This makes Anthony laugh even more, the sound bellowing out across the vista. If they aren’t careful James will be out soon investigating what all the kafuffle is. “Talk about putting the cat amongst the pigeons!! How many months are you?” he asks still laughing – albeit quieter this time, the puzzles pieces clicking into place.

“Three! and it’s twins!”

Unbelievable, it had only been a guess.

“Are you serious?!” Thomas looks as shocked as Anthony has ever seen him.

Fanny nods. “They’ve classed me as a bloody geriatric mum – so rude! I’m 43!”

“Does Humphrey know?” Thomas asks.

“Of course he does. Thomas please! We’ve already had a couple of scans because of my age, but yes, two of them. Girls they think as well.”

“Marvellous stuff,” Anthony says proudly. His older sister is pregnant! He was going to be an Uncle! “God help Humph. No wonder he’s been walking around like he is in a daze.”

“Not planned. But very happy it’s happened. Humphrey wants to marry me.”

It’s Anthony who asks, “and?”

“Well of course I’ve said yes, he asked me mid scan of all times – crying as he tried to say the words. I instructed him ask me again in the car to make sure. But yes, after, when stuff has calmed down with Button House and all this peerage talk, we will marry,” she tells them both with a smile.

“Good plan. About that… well what happens now? Thomas? This is your gig now,” Anthony says a touch of relief evident in his voice. “You… I… I don’t know what to say, or want to say,” he adds truthfully.

“It’s quite conclusive, isn’t it?” Fanny asks still holding them both tightly.

Thomas nods and hums. “I’ve had a couple of days to think about it – sorry I didn’t come to you both earlier, I was in shock. I thought it would be you Ant. I thought you were the first born.”

Anthony sighs at Thomas admission. “I thought so too, it’s probably why I have been so – well distant – scared almost,” he admits. “I know I’ve been a bit of a dick about it all but…”

“It’s been a lot to deal with. For all of us. You’ve had a bit more to deal with than us though.”

“True. I’ve got to be honest and say I’m glad I’m not the eldest. Not by for good few hours and a new birthday as well.” Anthony replies, opening the journal again and reading the words out loud. It’s mainly to make sure he read them correctly the first time, but also so that all of them could hear it together – as they should have done from their Mother. “Thomas Joseph Thorne Button born 6^th January 9.05pm, Stephanie Josephine Colebrooke Button 6^th January 10.34pm, Anthony Joseph Havers Button, 7^th January 1.08am. My three beautiful babies.”

“However, did she manage to keep it quiet?” Fanny asks, resting her head on Thomas shoulder.

Thomas shrugs, “money, power, sympathy. Maybe they saw how our father behaved and sympathised with her a little. Leaving her alone to give birth.”

“Do you think?”

Thomas nods. “I’ve also been thinking about what I should – or we should – do. I think… It’s not about making Julian suffer, not entirely anyway although the bloody fool deserves it. It’s about ensuring he doesn’t get his hands on this place and that means I’ve got to step up. All of us have. I’ve spoken to Isabelle and she’s advising me on the next steps.”

“Okay. So, you are taking the peerage – if that’s what it’s called?” Anthony asks just to make sure.

“Yes,” Thomas replies softly. “I am. Lord Button of Button House, the House of Lords, the lot. I think I can do some good, shake them up a little. The robes I need to wear look an absolute riot.”

“Is that the main reason you are going to do it? The outfit?”

Thomas almost looks like he is trying to scowl. “Not at all,” he barks. “Dear god. No, this year…this year… I’ve enjoyed it, the research, the hunt. I’ve felt alive – if that’s the best way to describe it. Yes. Alive.”

“Oh Thomas,” one of them says.

“I want to apply to do my PhD also. Isabelle thinks it will be a wonderful idea. So, I’m going to need some help Fanny and I know you have your hands full soon, but what if…”

“She’s your consort?” Anthony finishes Thomas’ sentence for him. “Lady Button.”

“Yes. I’m sure we can work something out.”

By now Fanny is in tears, which in turn sends Thomas down the same rabbit hole closely followed by Anthony.

“What a fucking day,” he says wiping an eye, feeling his phone suddenly vibrating in his pocket as does so. Thinking it’s probably James, Anthony reaches into his pocket to grab it only to see instead a text from an unknown number. “Oh,” he says with a sniff reading the first sentences.

“Everything okay Ant?”

“Yeah… it’s…its Graham,” he replies after a couple of minutes and two text messages later.

“What?”

“You know I don’t like to swear Anthony but tell him to f off please.”

Pausing, Anthony lifts his head and looks at his siblings. “I have,” he whispers in return. “And blocked the number.”

“You don’t need him.”

Anthony doesn’t, suddenly and very surely, he knows this. He needs… “I have to go, I think, yes...” he says, urgently feeling the need to unfold himself from his sister clutches. He stands up then sits back down in a way that makes him feel like he has no control over his actions.

“Brother mine? Are you quite well?”

“Do you think he loves me?” he asks them both, and for a moment neither answer.

“I do,” Fanny says finally. She is smiling at him as she says it. “I do. And I think you are in love with him. Maybe more so.”

“Who??”

“Thomas please, don’t be ridiculous. The Captain of course.”

“I thought we were talking about Graham?”

“Where have you been for six months?”

“You’re with the captain? Like with, with??”

Anthony nods, unafraid to now acknowledge it.

Thomas looks like someone has just told him the world is flat or the sky is not blue, “well bugger me. Cap’s gay? Anyone else waiting to step of the closet??”

Fanny ignores the question. “I think you need to go and speak to him Ant.”

“What if he doesn’t feel the same Fan?” Anthony stresses.

“Go, be as brave as he has been and is probably also going to be,” Fanny gently says, patting his arm. “Give me your car keys though, I’m not walking back down that hill.”

Chapter Text

“Hi,” Anthony says as he cautiously walks through The Folly’s front door, closing it behind him.

After an absurdly lengthy hug, he, Thomas and Fanny visited the family gravestones, had a quiet moment together and then went in separate directions.

As they all predicted, Anthony apprehensive walked down the single-track road and to The Folly and to where he knew James would be sat waiting for him.

He suspects he looks a mess. An hour of laughing sobbing and declaring his love for someone would do that to a person. Puffy eyes, bright red cheeks, the utter exhaustion of it all would be laid out bare for James to see.

“You look freezing,” James tells him from a seat at the breakfast bar. Bare feet, camouflage print PJ trousers, green t-shirt and reading glasses. He’s staring at Anthony with an intensity that makes him take a step back out the front door even though he has just walked in.

“Your scarf helped. It’s lovely and warm,” Anthony tells him softly, unwinding the garment from around his neck for the first time that day. He realised somewhat belatedly he hadn’t even taken it off for the interview.

James nods in approval, almost pleased Anthony thinks. “It does the job, as it should.”

“Absolutely. Anyway, there, thank you.” Anthony tentatively hangs the scarf back onto the hook James took it off earlier that morning.

“I just…”

“How did…”

They both say at the same time.

“You first Havers.”

“Okay, okay,” Anthony starts then pauses. “I’m not Lord Button,” he announces in what he will decide much later was in style of someone declaring they aren’t Batman or an axe murderer. Though, either seems probable now. “What I mean is… let me start again.”

“Okay…”

“Thomas found the diaries, and I’m not the first born, or Lord Button, he is. Case…erm, closed.”

“Ah. Mystery solved.”

“Yes. He’s going to accept the title – something about pissing Julian off, shaking up the House of Lords, PhD’s and fancy robes. But he’s going to do it.” Anthony explains, pushing his hands into his coat pockets. It’s an attempt to stop them shaking or doing something utterly ridiculous like walk over, grab the man and kiss his face off.

“Very noble. A smart move all around.”

“Yes. I agree. Better than myself of course. I would have been utterly useless it at. Can you imagine?” he asks. “Actually, no don’t,” he then adds with an uncomfortable laugh.

“You would have made an excellent Lord Button.”

“Hmmm, I’m not sure I share the sentiment, but thank you. Anyway. It’s not me. Fanny is going to act as consort – sort of – Lady Button. God knows what will happen if Thomas ever gets married – I’m sure they will figure it out. Fanny is also 14 weeks pregnant with twins and Humphrey has asked her to marry him and so they’ll be getting married at some point. That means I’m going to be an uncle and I’ve never been an uncle before. And to be quite honest James, London - today has done me in, it’s loud and busy, but the interview went okay. They offered it me, the position, then Graham text and I told him to sod off – less politely than that – but then I realised, I realised between all that – and I think I’m going to cry again sorry – because my birthday’s not the same as theirs and that’s quite important, I think. Do you think I should change my birth certificate? Anyway, that’s to sort out later. I’m utterly, it’s just… everything. Sorry, I should just tell you. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

“Good Lord.”

“That was rather a lot wasn’t? Sorry. Once I started…” Anthony says with a nervous laugh and a wipe of his nose with his sleeve. There’s absolutely no doubt in his mind he’s going to cry again, he’s 100% sure of it. “It’s been quite the day.”

To his credit, James simply nods. He’s still sat at the breakfast bar. His body fully turned towards Anthony ready to listen to whatever else he must blurt out. “They offered it you, the job?” James enquires.

“Hmmm yes.”

“Well,” James replies firmly. “I shall miss, you, what I mean is, we shall miss you, when you move back to London.”

“What? Sorry…”

“The job.”

“What job?”

“Anthony please,” James huffs, standing upright now. He’s flung a tea towel over his shoulder in a way that suggests to Anthony he’s just going to carry on with his evening like Anthony hasn’t just (albeit rapidly) bared his soul to the man. “The GP job in London. Where Graham is,” James goes onto add with a tight smile.

Anthony is going to cry but different reasons now.

“Well?” James barks.

“I’m sorry, did you not hear what I said? Do I need to say it again?”

“About Thomas being Lord Button?”

“No.”

“Stephanie being pregnant and getting married to Dr Bone?”

Anthony shakes his head.

“Your birthday?” James asks. It’s obvious he’s getting flustered. He’s taken his reading glasses off for a start. He then makes a series of noises that even Anthony’s not sure how to decipher.

“Well, that is important, but no,” Anthony adds with a pause. Fanny told him to be brave and he knows that he must. “The other part…the part where I said I love you. I’m in love with you. That part.”

“Oh right,” James replies, a touch underwhelmingly. Anthony’s nervous system feels like it is apparently having quite the day.

Whether James heard Anthony say it the first time or not, Anthony knows this time the words have registered by the shocked expression he is now wearing. “Sorry, my first attempt to do this was obviously terrible. So, yes. I love you, I’m in love with you,” Anthony repeats. “I’m not leaving Button House. Well, I might eventually, but not yet – or any time soon.”

It’s the first time he has said that he isn’t leaving Button House or the surgery out loud to anyone. He suspects it’s probably been written in stone a bit longer than that and he has no excuses as to why he may or may not have ignored any signs put in front of him.

“I...I…” James stutters out, eyes wide, mouth still hanging open in shock.

“Obviously you don’t have to say it back – I understand – I’m not trying to scare you off; it’s just I realised today - well only twenty minutes ago actually, so I needed you to know - choose my pathway and all that to quote Humphrey. I think I also needed to hear myself say it out loud.”

“You are in love with me?”

Anthony nods at James with a nervous smile, “very much so.”

“You’re not just saying this are you?” James asks nervously.

Anthony is definitely going to cry this time.

This man.

“Oh James. No. Well yes, I am saying it, but because it’s the truth. Has been for a while I think.”

“You love me?”

“Hmmm.”

Whatever battle is going on in James’ head, Anthony can feel it too. He’s not always been the demonstrative partners Anthony has had, but goodness the man can wear his heart on his sleeve when he so wishes.  

“No one…” James starts to say then stops himself.

Anthony knows he should feel nervous given that James hasn’t yet responded to his declaration of love but for some reason he isn’t. Yes, he wants to cry uncontrollably, and he’ll probably ruminate over every moment of todays events at great length later, but right now he just needs to be brave. “James…” he says shakily. “Come here. Please.”

“Goodness.”

It takes James two steps to reach Anthony and fling – yes fling – his arms around Anthony’s neck. The fierce, passionate, all-consuming kiss that comes next takes literally takes Anthony’s breath away.

“Hey, watch your shoulder.” Anthony says as they part, both breathing heavily, foreheads pressing against each other’s. “You, okay?”

“My shoulders fine.”

“That’s not what I asked. Are you okay?”

“You… you feel the same?”

Anthony nods because god damn it. He absolutely is crying now. Thankfully its happy ugly tears that are falling not the distraught looking ones. “I’m not leaving.”

“Good… that’s good.”

“I’m going to speak to Humphrey in the morning. Tonight though, call me forward, but I wondered if you had any of that stew you made earlier left. I’m terribly hungry.”

“Yes, of course.” James kisses him again and Anthony holds on if only to anchor himself to the moment because it’s absolutely the best kiss he’s ever had.

***

 “So,” James says later, much later, when the king size bed he owns is in disarray and their bodies are ever so slightly damp with the heat between them. “Are you sure?”

James is still out of breath, bless him.

Without thought Anthony places the hand that isn’t tangled in James’ silver hair, on the top of the man’s chest where is heart is located and counts the beats silently in his head. It’s a little elevated but then Anthony’s heart rate is too. “Absolutely,” he replies in between his own 105 beats per minute.

“Now, see here, I don’t just mean about the job and staying at Button House.”

Anthony huffs, “I know. And yes, to the other stuff too. Me and you.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“One thing though James, I’d like people to know; about us.” Anthony tells him. “Well Humphrey, Fanny and Thomas already know.”

“They do?” James almost sounds shocked.

“Yes. Apparently, we are quite transparent, so I was informed earlier.”

“Oh.”

“It hasn’t help that my car is parked here most mornings at times when it shouldn’t be. Fanny brings her horses up this way, it never even crossed my mind that she would notice.” Anthony tells him. That snippet of information had been tactfully disclosed just before the three of them had left the bench hours earlier.

“Ah.”

“Still though. I know it’s a big deal – for you. But James, I love you and well…I’d like us to be brave together.”

“Yes, yes…of course.”

“Then that’s all that matters. I’m not trying to rush you, but fuck anyone who thinks it’s bullshit.”

“Eloquent as always Havers.”

“You know what I mean,” he says with a chuckle. He’s never asked why James randomly calls him Havers. He suspects it harks back to his days in the army and Anthony has come realise these past 6 months two can play at that game. “I’m all in with this Sir. It’s taken a while but I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Anthony doesn’t know whether the gasp of breath James makes is down to him slipping a ‘sir’ in there or not, but he’ll take full advantage of it by kissing the man on the lips.

“Slowly,” James then breathes out. “We’ll tell people slowly.” 

“Slowly,” he repeats with a chuckle, he wouldn’t have it any other way. This time he kisses James’ neck lightly in agreement. “Your scar is healing well.”

“Itchy at times. Expected. Katherine gave me some E45 cream to use on it.”

Out of necessity Anthony then kisses the healing skin surrounding James’ collar bone and then repeats the action along the top of the scar. He feels the shudder ripple through James’ body as he does so. “Sensitive?”

“The nerves…”

“I can feel the metal,” Anthony says with another brush of his lips and the flick of his tongue.

“You are playing with fire.”

“Am I?” Anthony replies, innocence personified. It probably would have worked if he wasn’t stark bollock naked and inching his leg higher up James’ thigh.

“You know jolly well that you are.”

Anthony smiles wickedly. “Excellent. By the way, I’ve meant to ask you before now, all this talk of birthdays, when is your big day?”

“Big day?”

“Your 50^th isn’t it this year?”

“Hmmm. I can’t really say I’m much for celebrating.”

This information doesn’t surprise Anthony in the slightest. “So, when is it?” he asks unable to stop himself from placing another kiss on James’ shoulder.

“14^th February.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. What of it. It’s just a birthday.”

Anthony cocks his eyebrow. “Terribly efficient of you being born on Valentine’s Day. Two birds one stone and all that.”

“Oh. I suppose I never thought about it. Never really had the need.”

“Well, this year… actually hang on,” Anthony says, pushing himself up to a seated position. For good measure he then flings a leg over James’ body, so he is now straddling the man. He then leans down and places a kiss on his lips for good measure. “I reckon I can book actual paid holidays now – well I will be able to when I tell Humphrey I’m staying – but do you think you’ll be able to book some time off?”

“Whatever for?”

“Log cabin, fire, hot tub – me and you. Seen a place in Weymouth. Looks out over the coast. Private and secluded.”

“Good lord.” Anthony will take that as a yes.

“Fabulous,” Anthony chuckles, pushing himself fully upright and looking down at James. They’ve never really assumed this position before and Anthony realises rather likes the view. “I’ll look into it then.”

“Before you go,” James says, gripping Anthony’s legs lightly with his hands. He’s looks up at Anthony with what can only be described as wonder. “You… you are rather beautiful, your skin…” James finally says, cheeks now flushed with heat. Moving his hands up Anthony’s thighs he strokes the contours of his body before wrapping his hand around Anthony’s neck and chin, his thumb resting cautiously at the corner of Anthony’s mouth, pulling down his bottom lip. “And I can’t believe you are mine.”

Anthony is going to cry again. He really is.

“I think I’ve been yours for a while,” he whispers, tangling his fingers with James’ and leaning down for another kiss.

Chapter Text

“So,” Anthony asks. “are we ready?”

They’ve planned it down the very last full stop. And while Anthony hasn’t really understood everything that’s been going on in the background, Isabella, their solicitor has repeatedly assured them it’s airtight.

She’s been rather godsend in more ways than one, Anthony telling her as much on multiple occasions. A slightly more mature lady, she has the air and confidence that he suspects that if he was ever attracted to a woman and/or she had a moustache, she would be the type he would go for. Having seen her complete the legal side and then deal with the powers that be at the House of Lords so thoroughly (and forcefully) however Anthony can safely say he is more scared of her than anything.

Thomas on the other hand is quite smitten.

“Yes, I think so,” Fanny replies, distracting Anthony from his thoughts with a quick prod to the side. “Thomas?”

“Absolutely.”

“Are you really sure though, I… we… me and Ant, want you to be okay with all this.”

Thomas nods firmly at them both. He looks content, Anthony decides, maybe for the first time in a few months. Fanny used the words ‘less wild’ in a text message yesterday and Anthony is hard pressed to disagree with her.

“I think it’s time, don’t you?” Thomas tells them both. “Are you two okay though? Fan? Ant? Have you planned what you want to say.”

“I’m not sure how Fanny feels but I’d don’t think I’ve felt more ready,” Anthony answers firmly, suddenly realising how positive he is feeling about it all. “It’s been a long year. But a good year,” he adds with a smile knowing damn well it reaches the corners of his face.

“Yes, and I’m not 100% sure my year is over,” Fanny says with a giggle. Anthony is sure she’s been sporting a permanent smile these past few days. Even James asked earlier in the day if she was unwell, so uncomfortable he was at seeing her looking so happy. “Gosh I had awful morning sickness last night, Humphrey said it sounded like I was dying, refused to hold my hair,” she goes onto tell them (also with a giggle).

“What a complete bastard,” Anthony deadpans. “Tell him he has a duty of care.”

In truth Humphrey is behaving exact opposite. Anthony can vouch for the fact he spends most of his time worrying about being the best/worst Dad in the world, researching cots and prams ‘A double pram… look at it… better than any Constellation Class ship that,’ and asking Anthony opinions on baby names ‘what about Jadzia and T’Pol?’  

“So,” Thomas says, drawing back Anthony’s attention. “Shall we?”

“Oh god lets!” Fanny replies with a clap and marching off ahead of them.

“Our sister’s scaring me slightly,” Anthony whispers to his brother as they walk towards the ballroom. “I’ve never seen her quite this animated before.”

“I fear for Julian. Not Humphrey though, he’s obviously got a death wish.”

“You do know those two girls she is carrying will be her carbon copies, don’t you?” Anthony says.

He’s sure he sees Thomas shudder in response.

At Fanny’s instruction the ballroom has been converted into a makeshift auditorium. Organised by James and Mary of all people, the space is now arranged so it looks more like a theatre rather than a museum, with a table of refreshments (or a bloody fab buffet as Anthony had overheard Pat describe it) running along one of the walls.

“Hey,” Anthony says quietly upon seeing James stood by one of the bay windows. Giving the man’s hand a discreet squeeze. For good measure he then gives the good shoulder a quick nudge. They’ve been in love for precisely seven days. “Are you ready?”

“I’m not 100 percent sure it’s me who needs to be ready.”

“You know what I mean James.”

“Everything is all present and correct.”

“Good. You’ve got quite the knack for this sort of stuff, haven’t you?”

“Hmmm, it was part of my role at Hereford. The organisation part, briefings and such like.”

“Oh. I hadn’t really registered that boring normal stuff like administration went on. It’s all jumping out of planes and seeing the world on the adverts. Have you ever jumped out of a plane?”

“Twice. Never again.”

Anthony chuckles, “not a fan then?”

“The ticker couldn’t take it.”

“Arh right. Logical. Anyway, you are staying, aren’t you? For this?”

 James nods. “I’ll be here. I will need to leave a little earlier. Feed delivery but yes, I will be about.”

“Good, that’s good,” says Anthony with a nod. “Right, okay…it looks like we are ready to go.”

“Anthony… I…” James hesitates.

“I know. It’s okay. I’m glad you are here,” Anthony says.

***

More people respond to Fanny’s invite than Anthony knew even worked at Button House.

“You don’t see a lot of them, cleaners, volunteers, grounds staff. It takes a coach full of people to keep Button House going,” Thomas explains as they sit down on the four chairs he had watched James put there earlier – one each for him, Thomas and Fanny and then a fourth for Julian.

Fanny advertised the meeting as an AGM. Which wasn’t far from the truth Anthony supposes. It rather helps that Button House is closed for its usual six weeks, so there’s no visitors and most staff are onsite anyway to help with whatever Fanny list produces for the day. (So far Anthony has been lucky to escape being the recipient of a list, but he’s seen evidence of them of them at The Folly, carefully highlighted and signed off as completed by James.)

The meeting begins with the usual facts and figures and Julian shouting order numerous times even though he doesn’t need to.

“He hasn’t a clue, has he?” Thomas whispers with a scary amount of glee as Julian begins to list off projections, visitor numbers, profits, turnover staffing levels, and so on. It’s the usual boring stuff that Anthony knows he needn’t pay any attention to mainly because its Julian doing the talking and also it will be sent out in a newsletter when Mike of all people types it up.  

“Right! Moving onto any other business!” Julian shouts – there’s not much, we can rattle through this in no time, I’m booked for 18 holes at 3pm so let’s crack on. “Stephanie? You have a couple of things.”

“Yes, well as you know this year is the 25^th anniversary of the release of ‘It’s All Fun and Games…’ We’ve had a request from the official fan club for an event to be held here – cosplay of course – we’ve given them 3 dates in June, July and September to choose from. They are estimating around 800 people and more may attend. Stalls, a late night showing of the film, meet and greets with the stars. Thomas is liaising with the team,” Fanny begins tells the room.

She’s nervous, Anthony can tell as much. Out of the corner of his eye, he’s seen Humphrey throw her a couple of calming winks across the room, but then Anthony thinks the good doctor looks more nervous than she does.

“We also have a new apprentice starting in the café – Daley Butcher will be working with Mary and the team as he works his way through Apprentice Chef Level 3 is it Pat?”

“Aye! He’s gonna be bloody brilliant as well!” Pat replies from the audience. The man looks as pleased as punch. Likely because he thinks will have easier access to kitchen’s Anthony suspects.

“There you go. Anyway, Alison is also coming to the dark side – she’s going to be covering parts of my role because…well for those who didn’t already know or started running a book on me – Robin - I’m pregnant-.”

“Woohoo!”

“Congrats Boss.”

“Doc Bone!”

Anthony watches the crowd clap and cheer. He looks to where James is sitting on the large windowsill, sun behind him, looking as splendid as ever. Anthony wonders if it will give too much away if gives him a quick nod of admiration (he really does look stunning). He probably shouldn’t not yet anyway. He doesn’t want to make the man run off in the opposite direction.

However, before Anthony can even think of throwing any sort of acknowledgement at James, he hears Humphrey shout the words, “Bloody twins!” across the room.

Of course, that starts a second wave of congratulations, Robin throwing his hands up in disgust and an absolute look of fury from Julian who obviously just wants to go play golf.

Oh boy.

“Anything else?!” the man himself bellows, gathering up the paperwork he has scattered around him.

“Actually, there is,” Thomas says, taking this to be his cue. Isabella had very thoughtfully made up four packs – one each for them all. Having read the document, the night before with James, while watching an old movie on the Talking Pictures TV channel, Anthony knows it lays out the legal, social and political formalities to the new owner of the Lord Button title.

“Julian, if you take a look in the document Fanny has just handed you, I think you will understand.”

Julian is a lawyer; he knows what he is looking at. A quick uncomfortable straighten of his tie confirms it to Anthony.

He looks shocked. Yes shocked. Anthony thinks that’s the best way to describe it.

“I think you will find we are within the 12 months as stipulated by our father’s will,” Thomas continues. “I also think you will find it’s legally binding. Our solicitor has very kindly copied all the appropriate documents – but is you wish to see the real thing, let me know. As Lord Button, I’ve decided to place it somewhere safe for future reference if needed.”

“This…”

“Hmmm?”

“You are the first-born son??!” Julian sounds incredulous.

“By a whole different date,” Anthony answers with a smile. “Youngest triplet here, born on the 7^th, not the 6^th,” he says, raising his hand as he does so. The relief at just saying it out loud is almost making Anthony comically giddy.

“That’s…that’s not…”

“Fair? Where you going to say fair?” Fanny looks the angry of them all.

“You didn’t want it, none of you!”

With a dramatic wave of his hand, Thomas is next one to speak out of the three of them. The precision that he hits Julian with his words is almost sniper like. “Times change Julian. If you must know, I’ve rather enjoyed this year – the hunt! What was it you liked to say back in the 90’s? Family, family, family. So here we are – family.”

“Family.”

“Family.”

The three of them say the word one by one.

“You can’t!”

Thomas laughs, “we can, and as majority board members, we have. Sorry.”

As though looking for assistance, Anthony watches as Julian scans the audience who seem rather too transfixed on the events that have just taken place to pay him any attention.

“You’ll be hearing from my solicitor!” he barks across the room.

Anthony almost feels sorry for him. “I thought you were your solicitor,” he asks casually. “You can borrow ours if you like, Isabella?”

“Stop being so dramatic Julian,” Fanny finally says before turning to Anthony and Thomas. “And you two, stop winding him up. Julian, this affects nothing you do here. Your still on the board, still a shareholder. The only difference is that Thomas is legally now Lord Button, and as you can see from your copy of the paperwork, I am his consort - Lady Button until further notice. So, unless you have any other reason to contest this – for example you wanted to claim the title for yourself, set yourself up in the House of Lords, build a golf course or sell Button House to a hotel chain, I don’t really think you have much argument.”

As if on cue another round of applause fills the room. Anthony knows its in response to Fanny saying she will be known as Lady Button not the various items she listed off on each finger – although they also were dealt with sniper like precision.

“Anthony? Did you want to say anything?” Thomas says through gaps in the noise.

“I did actually,” he replies. It wasn’t a big thing he wanted to announce but required.

Kind of.

“Order!” Thomas shouts with a wink towards a baffled and stunned looking Julian. “Oooh I like that! I can see why you shout it a lot,” he says to the older man when the room quietens down. “Anthony has something he wants to say.”

“Right,” Anthony begins. “So...”

“Get on with it!”

“Thank you, Humphrey.”

“H darling please!”

“Thank you, Fanny. So, two things,” he begins. There’s a distinct possibility that his family are going to feel like he is pulling a fast one on them – and he is in a way he supposes.

He is staying at Button House, and yes will be a GP at the surgery but James had surprised him this morning by suggested that he move into The Folly with him. ‘Are you sure?’ Anthony had asked hoping the man was. He stays there overnight more than he does his own room these days. Even Mick is looking more settled still festooned in fairy lights. ‘Yes, even when you are on-call.’

And so, it had been decided.

“First, I’m staying at the surgery. Humphrey offered me a permanent position several months ago, which I stupidly sat on and ignored.” Anthony says quickly and guiltily.

“Booo!!!”

“Thank you, Pat.”

“Pleasure mate.”

“However, on Tuesday I accepted the position so, yes. I’m not leaving.” Anthony tells them. He offers a quick nod of thanks across at Humphrey for being so patient about the whole thing.

“Get in Doc!!”

“Woohoo!”

For the second announcement he turns to face Thomas and Fanny as this affects them directly. “The other thing is…well… I’m moving out of Button House. Not today, but soon. I think you are going to need the room, Fanny. My room, it has an ensuite and it’s bigger, so will be better for you all.”

“What? Why?! Anthony?”

“Where are you going??”

“Whoa… I’m not going anywhere yet,” Anthony says but Fanny is already up and out of seat and coming across the stage before he can stop her.

“You don’t need to leave, promise me you won’t go,” Fanny says kneeling down in front of him. “We’ve only just got you back and as you know I’m very hormonal at the moment.”

“I know. I’m not going back to London fan. I just might find somewhere else to drop anchor that’s all.”

“Anthony please-.”

“Stephanie. May I say something?” A voice suddenly says from across the other side of the room.

“Cap are you okay mate?”

“Perfectly fine Patrick.”

Naturally the whole room has gone quiet.

“Cap, do you have something for the agenda?” Thomas asks.

“Not quite. But yes.”

“Okay, well Anthony, have you finished your ‘bit’?”

He nods cautiously. James buffs are all over the place, Anthony can see as much. Arms behind his back, rigid as a pole. “Erm, yes?” Anthony says turning back to face the audience.

“The floor’s yours then Captain. Carry on.”

“Right, thank you. It’s just… yes… Stephanie, Thomas, you need not worry about… Anthony…”

“Okaaaay.”

“Yesterday I asked him to move in with me and he agreed. So yes. At The Folly. With me. Together. As a couple.”

Anthony realises it’s not a competition but the cheer that goes up after James’ announcement almost bursts the doors off the hinges. There’s a series of whoops and cheers. He hears Mary saying, ‘that be love that’ and he can’t help but agree with her.

Later he will tell James he is a mad bastard, ask what on earth possessed him to say what he said and then that he loves him, but for now he simply smiles and nods when Stephanie asks him if it is true.

“You know I love him,” he tells her in a whisper. “He feels the same way – I genuinely didn’t know he was going to do that though.”  

“Oh Ant. He loves you.”

“Yeah, yeah, stop crying – you’ll set Julian off again if you do,” Anthony adds with a chuckle.

“I can’t help it,” she replies with a snort. “Oh god, I’m such a mess.”

“You are, now come here sister.” Without thinking he throws his arms around Fanny, only to be joined seconds later by Thomas. They must look a right sight stood there alone on the stage. Or they would if everyone wasn’t fussing around Humphrey and James and congratulating them both.

“I fear we are no longer the main event,” he says with a nod.

Thomas pulls a face as see the melee in front of them, “the damn cheek, don’t they know who I am?!”

“Oh god. Is this what it’s going to be like from now on?”

***

“Go and deal with your feed merchants,” Anthony tells James when he finally sits down next to him on the windowsill. Their shoulders bump together as they do so, leaving them both sitting closer together than they ever have in public before. “We’ll celebrate later – on our own, at home.”

“Right.” James looks flustered but there is a happiness behind it that makes Anthony want to pull him in closer and show him he feels the same way.

“You were very brave just then,” he says instead. “Although everyone needs to stop doing these public declarations of love and babies – it’s exhausting.”

“I had to…”

“I know. You do realise you’ve just come out to everyone don’t you?”

“Hmmm. Not my preferred method, but necessary under the circumstances. For you.”

Anthony smiles, “you rock my bloody world you know?”

“I do?”

“100%, now go, I will see you later.”

“At home?

“Home.”

***

“That was like the G8 summit cross with a pantomime but with scotch eggs.”

Anthony smirks upon hearing Humphrey’s voice, “Dr Bone.”

“Dr Havers. Nice to have you officially on board the good ship Button House,” Humphrey says with a wink. “You took your damn time about it though.”

Anthony laughs softly. “Keep em mean, keep em keen, isn’t that what they say? Thank you for the heckling, by the way, not your first heckle I take it.”

“Pleasure and no, I’ve had experience on previous occasions.”

“Thought as much…seriously though Humph, I know I’ve thanked you before but putting a good word in for me with Brookgate – that was… unexpected and lovely if I am being honest.”

Humphrey shrugs innocently. “If I was gonna lose you, I’d rather be to someone I knew than some random.”

“Thanks, I think, but one day you really are going to need to tell me about Headless Humphrey.”

“Absolutely not. That information is going to the grave with me. Whatever you do don’t mention it to Fanny.”

“I already have,” Anthony lies. “Serves you right for not holding her hair.”

“What?! You’re a bastard.”

“I’m joking, I haven’t said a word. I might though if you don’t up your hair holding game.”

Humphrey sighs. It’s not an angry sigh, more of a reflective one. “It’s funny isn’t it where life takes you?” Humphrey says after a pause before turning to face the room and Fanny. “I’m gonna be a dad! A Dad! Twins! Terrified doesn’t even cover it.”

“You’re going to be a great dad.”

“Fanny tells me the same – can’t help but worry though – I think that’s natural, or worse, or better even – I haven’t decided yet – there’s going to be two of them!! Twins!!”

“At least it isn’t three.”

“Blimey can you imagine?” Humphrey looks absolutely terrified by the thought.

“Funnily enough….”

“Oh yeah ha! I forgot about that. Anyway… less about my impending fatherhood, more about you. It’s almost as if you predicted all of this yourself. Do you not remember?”

“Did I? When?” He doesn’t remember predicting anything and if he did, the only excuse he can come up with for not remembering is that he has eaten and drank considerably since then. Mostly in the last seven days.

“You did. Remember when I asked you who your favourite Star Trek Captain was ages ago. It was when you first visited the surgery, I think.”

“Yes vaguely…?”

“You said Kirk.”

“Did I?”

“Hmmm,” Humphrey tilts his head to one side. “Well, you’ve got your very own Captain Kirk now.”

“I’ve wha- oh…”

Humphrey’s laugh is loud enough to rattle the chandeliers. “Not everyone can say they live with an actual Captain James T Kirk, can they? Hilarious,” he says before stepping away, leaving Anthony blustering and walking over to where Fanny is stood.

“Fucking hell Humphrey. I never even…!”

“Is everything okay Doc?” Pat asks as he passes Anthony by. He’s holding his scoutmaster mug in hand and a tumbler of what looks like whiskey in the other, god knows where he got it from. “Here, it looks like you need this more than me. I’m more of Watney’s man meself.”

“Yeah, thanks, I’m okay… just…” Anthony replies quietly, taking the glass.

“It’s mad init this place?” Pat says after a minute.

Looking around the room Anthony can’t help but agree.

At some point someone’s put some music on – he isn’t sure who, but suddenly the ballroom’s atmosphere feels almost party like. There’s laughing and giggling, and the odd dance shape being thrown.

Mary of course is still stood by the buffet table demanding people eat cake. Pat has already left Anthony’s side and is moving towards her at speed eye on the scotch egg goal. Fanny and Humphrey are stood with Alison, Mike and Kitty talking bumps and babies. The current Lord Button is happily regaling something to Isabella who is looking back at him like he’s birthed a rainbow (a situation which Anthony can’t even bring himself to process right now). Robin is collecting money from people in a ‘The Moon Landings were a hoax’ mug while Julian who looks a little lost looks on.

Looking across at the man Anthony’s fairly sure he’ll be okay. Well, he hopes he will be. In truth, they never wanted to hurt Julian, just catch him with his trousers down.

James did leave before Anthony told him too and to be honest Anthony is okay with that. He knows that when they see each other later there will be time to dissect the day properly.

In the meantime, Anthony watches the staff, occupants and owners of Button House and smiles.

“It is bit mad yeah,” he says taking a sip of the whiskey. “A good mad though. A good mad.”

Chapter Text

“Where’s Tank?” Anthony asks as he descends The Folly’s spiral staircase. He is searching for their two-year-old Jack Russell named as such because he’s rather built like a tank, not because it is James’ favourite type of vehicle.

Apparently.

“In his usual spot, next to Mick, by the doors – undercarriage up, snoring, asleep. No decorum that one,” James replies with a nod towards the large bi-fold doors, the skeleton wrapped in fairy lights and to where their snoring dog is no doubt lay.

Anthony follows James’ line of sight laughing softly at the vision in front of him. “Hmmm, so I see, sleeping with his paws up again. Takes after his father,” he mutters to himself before pausing what he was about to say. “Do you think he’s going to be okay on his own for more than three hours, you know how these things can go on James,” he says a little louder.

“Whatever do you mean takes after his fath- oh, wow you look rather dashing, very handsome, I think this is first time I’ve seen you in a three-piece suit.”

Anthony glows at his partner’s words.

Also dressed in a three piece, and also coming in strong with the wow factor is James. He is wearing brogues, a white shirt, and a purple tie and buttonhole to compliment the charcoal suit. He scrubs up rather well, Anthony thinks happily. “I’ve not really had a need to wear one for a while, you look damn fine as well, I like the charcoal grey on you James, very… sexy,” he says with a leer.

“Good lord, that’s…” James shakes his head as if to clear it. “Now, none of that sort of thing again…not yet anyway, I’ve not recovered from earlier yet.”

Still leering, Anthony nods. He catches the blush that’s forming on James’ face and gives the man a wink for good measure. Maybe he could grab him after the ceremony, there are more than enough places in Button House to go to for a quickie, “hmmm, well maybe later, I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to keep my hands off you when you look so ravishing. None of this sexy talk answers my first question though, do you think our best boy will be okay on his own?”

“Perfectly.”

Anthony isn’t so sure; he doesn’t like leaving Tank alone. If he isn’t with James on the back of ‘Sherman’, he’s with him at the surgery or on a walk, “I’ll try and get out halfway and check on him.”

James shakes his head, “I’m not sure you will have time as best man. As well you know, this whole event has been planned down to the last second.”

Anthony knows ruddy well how intensely the day has been planned. It’s hard to escape the Button House Wedding of the Year Planning Club meetings (BHWOTYPC) when they are being held in your living room and you are forced to join a WhatsApp group of the same name.

Not that he really minds it of course.

His sister and Humphrey deserve their day – she is still the current Lady Button after all.

“I still very annoyed with her for not taking Humphrey’s name,” Anthony says, casually grabbing the other purple flower Fanny has ordered, attaching it to his lapel as best he can. “Fanny Bone. Decades of material right there gone to waste.”

“I can’t imagine what on earth you mean,” James replies looking confused. He’s nervously fussing far too much over the flower in his own buttonhole for Anthony’s liking.

Anthony chuckles loudly. “Bloody hell James, what on earth… Fanny Button? Fanny. Button. Now Fanny Bone. It’s a cheap but excellent gag.”

“Good lord.” James says after a moment, clearing his throat.

“There it is, the penny dropped eventually. Anyway, are we ready? Do I look okay? ‘Best man’ enough for Humphrey?” Anthony asks smoothing his collar and straightening his back. In truth he’d been rather surprised by Humphrey’s request that he be his best man. With Thomas walking Fanny down the aisle, James playing wedding planner, Anthony had been quite happy to sit with the congregation and keep his eye on his sister and Humphrey’s twin girls Matilda and Elsie.

Humphrey had had other ideas though.  

“Humphrey couldn’t have chosen a better man in my opinion,” James says, sharing the same sentiment as Humphrey had when Anthony had challenged him on the subject. “Listen before we go, I have something for you. A present, nothing much.”

“Oh really? Goodness James, I’ve not got you anything… where we buying each other gifts??” Anthony is rather rubbish at this at times. Yes, James can be like a mother hen at times, but Anthony finds that side of the man rather wonderful if he’s being honest. Compared to his relationship with Graham, which he never does because my god they are poles apart in terms of… well everything come to think of it… he rather likes being looked after.

He rather suspects James feels the same way. Well, Anthony hopes he does. The speed at which the man is rushing to over to the sideboard to where the folded triangle crisp packet is still lives, opening one of the doors and retrieving a rather fancy looking black box may be a fairly good indicator how he thinks anyway.

“Whatever is this?” Anthony asks when James places the box in his hands. Running his fingers over the surface he traces the leather carefully eyeing the name scribed on the top.

The logo on it rings a bell. “James…?”

“Open it, please, if you don’t like it, or it’s the wrong make, let me know. I have the paperwork. I’m rather hoping you do though.”

Anthony eyes the brand name again. “Litman, that’s…”

“Yes, I did my research. Humphrey and Katherine helped as well.”

Opening the box Anthony removes the protective cover gently revealing a very expensive matt black stainless-steel stethoscope complete with his name, Anthony Havers engraved on the chest piece. “Oh my god.”

It’s beautiful and looks expensive.

For once Anthony is speechless.

“Yours current one is looking rather battle scarred, so I thought, well it looks like you need a new one, it’s a one size fits all so I am told,” James explains. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet as he tends to do when excited or nervous. The action has Anthony’s tummy flipping wildly. “Goodness, Anthony do you like it?”

“James this is an expensive piece of kit… how?”

“Never mind how, you need a new one, yours has electrical tape holding it together.” James splutters excitedly. “Is it okay, do you like it?”

“Do I like it!? You mad bastard. I love it, James, this is… can I try it on? Do we have time?”

“Oh, course yes! I allocated a little extra time for us- this…”

Not really waiting for an answer, Anthony takes the stethoscope out of the case. Securing it into place on his ears he lifts the chest piece instinctively towards James’ heart.

“May I?” Anthony asks before receiving a nod from James. He gently slips his hand under the lapel of the jacket, undoing the nearest shirt button to where James’ heart is located. Anthony then places the stethoscope’s cold metal chest piece onto James’ bare skin and listens out for the familiar rhythm. “Hmmm heartbeats a little elevated – are you okay?” Anthony asks with a frown.

“What, yes… I mean… goodness Anthony,” James stutters. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Have you taken your medication?”

“Of course, you saw me do it earlier.”

Anthony had done yes; he still isn’t convinced though. “So, whatever’s the matter then? Are you worried about leaving Tank? The wedding? You’ve planned today like a military operation, James it’s going to be wonderful…”

“Anthony please!”    

“Well, whatever is wrong then?” Anthony asks, slipping one of the ear buds out of his ear. He leaves the chest piece where it is by James’ heart and the rapid heartbeat below. “Are you sure you are okay James?” he asks a second time trying desperately not to slip into GP mode.

Anthony knows he mithers a little about James’ heart but considering that they’ve had had a tough old time with the blasted thing these last 12 months, he has every right too. A change of medication resulting in an increase in chest pains took its toll on them both. A three-night stay in a specialised Coronary Care Unit hadn’t helped matters either. Anthony doesn't mind admitting his nerves were bloody well shot to pieces by the time James was discharged, so god knows how James coped. But these past few months felt more settled and while Anthony clinically has no input into health of James heart, emotionally he is very much invested thank you very much.

Hence the mild panic currently settling in. “James? Is it us? Is it me? Have I done someth-”

“What?! Oh, damn and blast Havers just give me a minute… you really do… none of that… Listen now, do you want to make this more permanent?”

“P…Pardon?”

“Us. This.” James says, waving his hand in the small gap between them. “More legal.”

“Oh my god.”

“Well…”

“Are you asking what I think you are asking?”

“Hmmm, well yes, I suppose. I am rather yes. It makes sense tactically when you think about it. Equal batting ground. Better rights for us both. Been thinking about it a lot recently, since the heart scare.”

“Well, fuck me.”

“Really Anthony, that wasn’t the sort of response I was aiming for.”

“Well, you’ve taken the wind out of my sails a little to be honest James. I can’t decide if this is the least or most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Oh, right,” James says looking utterly crestfallen. He shrugs his shoulders slightly. “It was just an idea.”

“No, James, wait. Do you mean it? You are talking about getting married – full married – proper married - aren’t you?”

“Of course, is that not what you thought I meant?”

“And the reason you want to marry me is…?”

“Dear god. The obvious really. Do you really want me to explain?” James’ face pinches tightly. Anthony doesn’t need the stethoscope to know that the man’s heart is racing, but he keeps it in place anyway.  

“Absolutely. Less like a military campaign this time though love. And I want it in writing too. I won’t make you get down on your dodgy false knee, I’m not that cruel, but yes, again please.”

James sighs, it’s not a frustrated sigh, Anthony thinks – well he ruddy well hopes it isn’t anyway. He’s learnt these past two years James isn’t always big on words. Photo’s yes, words, not so much. Anthony still receives a daily photo of what James is getting up to each morning, deer, the river, the septic tank. More recently, and to Anthony’s great surprise a slightly more risqué James has made an appearance - particularly while Anthony was in Manchester at a conference.

Unfortunately for Anthony, James, point blank refuses to let him use those photos as his phone’s screen saver.

“Oh, bally hell,” says the man in question. “I mean… of course, aside from what I said earlier… goodness Anthony. I adore you. I love you. Why wouldn’t I want to marry you?”

“Oh my god.”

“What sort of blasted answer is that? Is that a yes?”

“It’s a hell to the yes James and I love you too.”

“Oh, thank god for that-”

Whatever James needs to say, Anthony cuts him off. Dropping the stethoscope so it hangs loosely around his neck, he grabs James’ face with both hands and kisses him fiercely until they both need to breath.

“Oh my god. I’m engaged,” Anthony says softly, before quickly remembering that James is involved in this event too. “We’re engaged,” he adds, before re-kissing the man within an inch of his life.

When Anthony final releases him, he’s a touch out of breath. “Indeed!” James pants softly. 

“I think we should keep this to ourselves for today though. Not to take a shine of Fanny’s big do.”

“Hmmm I agree. Forward stations and all that.”

“James?

“Hmmm?”

“Thank you.”

“Whatever are you thanking me for?” James says, straightening his hair. It has gotten a little ruffled in all the excitement.

Anthony smiles widely, “I know I’ve sat it before, but you rescued me a little. Well, this place did – but you, mostly. Apparently, I needed to be back at Button House and to go through everything I did to realise that.”

Smiling James reaches over and grabs Anthony hands. “I rather think I need the same thing. Coming to Button House was the start, but you, returning home and feeling the same as I… it’s been… well...”

“Wonderful?”

“I couldn’t have said better myself.”

Chapter Text

“Our daughter is married Joseph,” a female voice says quietly. She doesn’t know why she is whispering, only that she is. Of course, no one can hear her – the older man sat in the wheelchair sat across the other side of the room especially can’t, even with his hearing aids. But the three souls she’s had the (dis)pleasure of residing with for the last 20 plus years will be able to.

“HMMM, WHAT DID YOU SAY?” the old man next to her shouts.

“Our. Daughter. She. Is. Married.”

“YES, GOOD SHOW. TO A DOCTOR. GOOD STOCK. EXCELLENT PROSPECTS.”

“Indeed.”

“She looks like a princess,” a young girl dressed as chambermaid says. Her eyes where wide throughout the whole ceremony Geraldine noticed. Pretending to walk up the aisle with Stephanie and her daughters in a blood-stained apron and dancing around the room when the vows had been read. Geraldine hadn’t the heart to stop her.  

“She does Molly.”

“The other two seem happy enough – your sons,” says another ghost. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, that handsome silver haired estate manager reminds me of Walter my valet, young Anthony won’t let go of him, will he?”

“Ranald, please, not again.”

“I’m only stating the obvious. My great great great great… whatever he is… has excellent taste in men.”

“Now Ranald, don’t lie, you are fucking jealous of him, always have been,” says a third ghost lay prone next to Geraldine’s feet. He spends a lot of time lying by Geraldine’s feet for some reason.  Apparently, he rather likes her heeled shoes. “He’s gets to climb into bed every night with that silver haired hunk and ravages him – I’ve seen it plenty - whereas you hid your poor bastard in the closet after you ravaged him. I remember it watching you do it. Vividly.”

“Sir Richard, I’d like to remind you that’s my son’s partner you’re talking about!”

“I know, I know. And he’s better than the first one Anthony bought home Gerry. He was a complete bastard. He reminded me of King Henry back in the day – before he caught me with one of his maids and a butler in a ménage à trois as the youngsters call it these days and murdered me of course.”

Geraldine can’t disagree. Of course, she’s obviously never met King Henry VIII but from what Sir Richard has told her about him over the years the man was an absolute menace.    

“You know, you’ve never said why you kept it a secret, the birth order,” Ranald asks after a while, head bopping, fingers clicking at the change of music from Whigfields Saturday Night to the Time Warp. Molly is already jumping to the left and stepping to the right. “I always did wonder,” he continues, bending his knees in time as asked, his kilt flying upwards as he does so.

Apparently, there’s been a request for Come on Eileen to be played next. 

“It’s complicated.”

“I think that’s a moot point now darling.” Sir Richard mutters. “Thomas and Fanny are fine recipients of the title.”

“Come on, Geraldine, do tell.”

“Yes, Mam, please tell us.”

Geraldine rather wishes at times like this she had had the foresight to slip a handkerchief into the pocket of her favourite Chanel Suit or handbag before leaving her bedroom on her death day. It always makes her quite emotional thinking about those two days in 1982 and seeing her babies for the first time.

“I wanted them to be themselves,” Geraldine says after a pause. “Grow up and find their own way without being saddled with the Lord Button legacy. I think even you can agree Ranald it weighs people down having that responsibility placed upon them at such a young age.”

A hum of agreement fills the room.

“It turned Joseph from a loving husband to an absolute bastard after his own father died – I didn’t want that for my three babies. I was going to tell them when they turned 25, but this bloody thing…” she says, tapping her temple, indicating where the aneurysm had been, “had other ideas.”

“I think in the end you made the right choice Gerry,” Sir Richard says.   

Ranald nods in agreement. “Thomas is a fine Lord Button, kicking them up the arse in the House of Lords apparently – a true Button. Fanny is the perfect consort and Anthony an excellent physician.”

“Yes,” Geraldine says softly. “I quite agree.”

“VERY PROUD!”     

“You’ve changed your spots Joseph…”

“WHAT!”

“I said… no, it’s doesn’t matter you daft bastard. It’s been rather a wonderful day overall - I love a good wedding. I think we are going to need to move soon though,” Ranald says pointing to the sight of Anthony dragging his handsome beau behind him in their direction. “Can’t keep their hands off one another, can they?”

It takes a moment for the other ghosts to catch up and because they all aren’t as quick on their feet as they used to be (except Molly who is like a whippet) Anthony has already pulled James into the room by his tie and closed the door before they can exit the room.

“I love you husband to be,” Geraldine hears Anthony say before watching her son plant a sloppy kiss on the older man’s face, push him against the wall and grab his arse.

“Good Lord!” Geraldine exclaims – she isn’t sure what she is more shocked at. The bottom grab or the suggestion they may be marrying. Or even both.

“Like rabbits, I tell you, like rabbits!”

“Ranald!”

“I caught them by the river once-”

“We don’t need to hear about it! Times may have changed but goodness-” she begins to say before biting her tongue. Times have changed and she with it. “At least he is healthy and functioning,” she adds after a pause.

“WHAT!”

“Go back to sleep, old man. Come on you, lot,” says Sir Richard, already pushing Joseph through the wall and out onto the ballroom. The others follow quickly if not quietly. There's already clapping and stamping of feet to accompany the exit.

Now finally alone with the two men, Geraldine places her over her heart and sighs. This is it, she decides. She must tell him how she feels. Truthfully. And yes, Anthony cannot not hear her but she needs to say it. 

Finally.

“Oh, my baby boy, I didn’t ever think you would be happy," she begins. "I know, at first, when you where younger I wasn’t very forgiving but now…now…Oh I do wish you could hear me," she sniffs, the frustration getting to her finally.

"And you, Captain,” she continues, voice low, now fighting back the tears she knows would come if she wasn’t a ghost. “I couldn’t be happier it’s you he chose. A proud man, a brave man,” she tells him before looking at the couple. “Both of you.”

Finally, having said what she needs to, she leaves the two men alone. Walking through the closed door of the library and into the noise of Button House’s ballroom Geraldine realises this is happiest she has felt in over 20 years.