Gaudete (2 page)

“I am,” Callum agreed. “I’m going to be an artist. And a footballer, and maybe a pilot, if I have time. What’s your name?”

“I’m Jonah. Pleased to meet you.”

“Hi,” Callum said, handing the marker pen back. “Is that like the bloke with the whale? We had to draw that in RE, and I drew a killer whale, because killer whales are awesome, and Miss was all like, ‘It’s a very nice picture, Callum, but I don’t think poor Jonah would fit in an orca’s stomach,’ which is fair enough, unless he was you, because you’re short, but it’s not like it’s real life, is it? RE’s my worst subject.” Then, because he prided himself on being honest, he added, “Well, one of my worst subjects. I have quite a lot of worst subjects. Do you have to do RE?”

Jonah was blinking at him as if he’d been smacked in the head instead of breaking his arm, but then he smiled, just a little, and said, “I go to the cathedral school. There’s sort of extra RE.”

“Poor you,” Callum said, and then got distracted. “Is that why you have to wear a dress?”

“It’s not a dress,” Jonah said indignantly. “It’s a cassock. It’s for singing in.”

“But you’re not singing now.”

“We’re having photos taken,” Jonah explained. “For the prospectus, and maybe the next album cover.”

“Who are you meant to be, then?” Callum demanded, impressed. “The Spice Girls?”

And so Jonah explained to him why choristers weren’t just ordinary choirboys, and how people came from all over the world to hear the Aylminster choir, and they had been on the telly twice already that year, and he had to sing evensong every day and sing in all the weekend services, and Christmas was even better because there were carols and processions and they got to stay up late for midnight mass. It seemed a bit mad to Callum, but the more Jonah talked about it, the more he smiled, so it probably was pretty cool if it was your thing.

“How much do you get paid?” he asked.

Jonah shook his head. “We don’t.”

“That’s child labor, that is,” Callum protested. He could see perfectly well that Jonah wasn’t the kind of person to argue with grown-ups about that sort of thing, but he was pretty good at arguing himself. “You should start a petition. I’ll design it.”

But Jonah just laughed at him. “I don’t want to be paid. I just want to sing.”

“I still think it’s not fair,” Callum argued, but then his stomach growled. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”

“I’m always hungry.”

“Come and have some chestnuts, then, and you can share my sandwiches, if you want. They’ve got peanut butter and bananas
and
ketchup in.”

“And ketchup?” Jonah repeated, and then smiled again. “Okay.”

So they wandered back to Mum’s stall, and Jonah smiled even more when Callum introduced him as “This is my friend who’s been on the telly, and we’re
hungry
.”

They were still feasting on roast chestnuts and juice boxes when an indignant choirmaster descended upon them, having spent the past twenty minutes searching for his missing youngest chorister.

“I
T
IS
you!” Callum said, and before Jonah could brace himself, he was being hugged hard. “Jesus fuck, dude, you look good.” Then, before Jonah had the presence of mind to do more than lift his hands to brush Callum’s shoulders, he startled back, eyes widening in dismay. “Shit, are you a vicar now? I shouldn’t be swearing if you’re a vicar.”

“Er,” Jonah managed, thoroughly thrown. He had never really expected to see Callum again, except in idle daydreams. That sort of thing didn’t happen to him. He wasn’t the sort of person people remembered. “I… I’m not a vicar.”

Callum let out a big sigh of relief. “What are you doing here, man? Are you back for good? You’re in the choir, aren’t you? You’ve come back to sing. Also, when the fuck did you get taller than me?”

The barrage of questions and the sudden swerve into a new topic were so perfectly Callum that Jonah had to laugh. “I’m a grad student. Brighton. Doing some work on the manuscripts in the library here.”

“So you are back,” Callum said, grinning at him. “On the South Coast, at least. I’m in Meeching these days, down on the coast, y’know.”

“I know where Meeching is,” Jonah pointed out, his heart rising. It was barely ten miles east of Brighton. “I did grow up here.”

“Sorry,” Callum said, clearly unrepentant. “I wasn’t sure if you knew there was a world outside the cathedral grounds.”

“Of course I did,” Jonah protested, although it had always been a bit of a hazy concept for him. “I knew you lived somewhere.”

It wasn’t until that bright grin broke out over Callum’s face again, bringing a slight flush with it, that it occurred to him that it might be a little on the intense side for someone he hadn’t seen for over a decade. Then Callum said, “God, you’re going to think I’m a total weirdo, but I still always look for you at the Christmas markets. It’s like it’s not properly Christmas unless we hang out. And this year, you’re here!”

“Yeah,” Jonah agreed, and then got stuck. He wanted to say he’d been looking for Callum too, that he was so glad to see him again, but the words got tangled in his throat and he couldn’t find a way to say them without it all being horribly awkward, so he just cleared his throat and smiled.

Callum obviously took the wrong message from his silence. “You do think I’m weird. So, just forget I said—”

“You’re not weird,” Jonah interrupted. “I…. Actually, I was looking for you.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s
Christmas
,” Jonah said, because that ought to be enough, and Callum nodded.

“Exactly,” he said, and then looked up with a grimace as the cathedral bells marked the quarter hour. “I need to get back to work. This is the busy bit of the day, and my sister’s helping, but it needs both of us.”

“Go on,” Jonah said, though he didn’t want to let Callum out of his sight again. “It’s your livelihood.”

Callum looked torn. “Don’t disappear for another ten years.”

“I won’t,” Jonah promised, and some of the sincerity must have shown in his voice, because Callum relaxed a little.

“I’m here until half seven tonight, but we could get a drink after, right?”

Jonah was smiling again. It felt a little odd and creaky on his face, but he couldn’t stop. “Yes. Yes.”

“Come and find me, then. I’ll be in the stall. Meeching Woodcraft, over by the regimental museum.”

“I’ll find you,” Jonah promised. How could he not?

He got another surprise hug and managed to return it this time, and then Callum was gone, vanishing back into the crowd with a grin and a wave. Jonah watched him go, and only a little of the warmth went out of the day. He’d forgotten how Callum did this, careening into Jonah’s life and making it bright and fun and warm. Now he had the promise of that all over again, with a Callum who seemed just as friendly and impulsive as he’d always been.

A Callum who’d grown up to be absolutely gorgeous, and that added a warm flutter of interest to Jonah’s happiness. What would it be like to kiss Callum (again, he reminded himself with a wince). Would that smiling mouth taste sweet? What would it be like to run his hands through Callum’s curls and tug him in close enough to hold for more than a few moments?

Then he reminded himself that guys who looked like Callum didn’t tend to fancy tall, shy, clumsy chaps in glasses, and let the fantasy go. It wasn’t as if he could even be totally sure Callum was gay. Just because he looked like it, it didn’t mean Jonah had the right to make assumptions about him. And even if he was, he probably had a boyfriend who adored him. Callum had always talked about his many friends with an easy confidence when they were kids, and that had surely carried through into adulthood.

Jonah finally managed to queue long enough to get a sandwich and a coffee, but he couldn’t stop wondering about it. Sitting beside the war memorial on the green, he warmed his hands on his coffee before giving in to temptation by getting his phone out and checking Grindr. Sure enough, there was Callum’s picture right at the top of the page, shirtless on a beach somewhere. Jonah looked long enough to see the word “single” before he hurriedly stuffed his phone back in his pocket, embarrassed at himself. Decent people didn’t spy on their friends.

All the same, his mood was light as he ate his lunch, and it wasn’t just Christmas spirit. When his phone buzzed with a message, he pulled it out and then almost choked on his coffee when he read,
Saw u lookin! U cld hv jst askd!! C ;)

Oh God. If he’d been suave or in any way good at this sort of thing, he would have sent some clever reply. Why was Callum online himself, for example? He couldn’t quite bring himself to risk it, though, and he hated his shyness pretty badly right then, when it seemed to actually freeze his fingers. At last, he managed,
Nice picture,
which was rather feeble, as flirting went, but better than nothing.

He held his phone tightly while he waited for the response, sipping his coffee as he stared at the west front of the cathedral, which was covered with tiers of statues, their faces worn away by time. He knew who some of them were meant to be, though only because it had been part of his education, and he tried to imagine what their carvers would have thought of all the people mingling below them now. The cathedral survived, but the world kept changing around it.

Callum’s next message drew his attention back to his phone, and he read,
Btr in rl life ;)

No, they definitely weren’t twelve anymore. For a few moments, he forgot the crispness of the winter breeze and the clear cold light washing over the busy green, and imagined he was in a warm bed with Callum, skin pressed to skin as Callum laughed brightly against his mouth.

His phone buzzed again, and he jolted out of his daydream to realize he hadn’t replied. Callum’s message said,
Sry sry. 2 much?

Just imagining
, he sent back without thinking about it. He’d never managed to be shy with Callum for more than a few moments.

Heh
, he got back, and then his phone went quiet. He imagined Callum charming customers, talking them out of their money with such bright enthusiasm that they wouldn’t really mind, and smiled. What was Callum selling? Probably not food, by the name of the stall.

Well, he himself was neither a singer nor an oil trader. Hardly anyone stayed in the same job for twelve years, or simply followed in their parents’ exact footsteps. He finished his lunch and sat back a little, leaning on his hands. Being back in Aylminster felt like some warm mix of coming home and being on holiday, especially now he’d found Callum. He’d lost touch with so many of his old friends, but he’d always believed he’d meet Callum again someday. Some people just fell back into your life like that.

He wasn’t expecting another message, but Callum must have had a gap between customers.
So
s
tl on 4 2nite?

“Not if you keep up with the textspeak,” Jonah muttered at the screen, but smiled as he did.
It’s a date.

4 rl?

Oh, well, that was unambiguous enough. Closing his eyes for a moment, Jonah took a deep breath and typed,
Yes
.

There were moments, he’d always believed, when you could feel your life changing around you. He could feel that weight in the air now, every crisp detail of the medieval walls around him heavy with significance.

His phone beeped again and he looked down, savoring the moment, to read,
Cool. lookin 4wrd 2 it. c u l8r.

Yes, this was going to be good.

C
ALLUM
HAD
forgotten all about the friend he made last Christmas until a shy hand plucked at his sleeve.

“Hi,” Jonah said. “Do you remember me?”

“Of course I do,” Callum said indignantly, even though he hadn’t until that moment. “You’re the only boy I know who wears a dress.”

“It’s not a dress,” Jonah said, rolling his eyes a little.

Callum was pretty sure it was, but he was remembering that Jonah had been pretty cool last year, whatever he wore, so he let it go and just rocked back on his stool to say, “So, you want to hang out again?”

“I can’t now,” Jonah said with a sigh, “because we’re about to go to practice and I’m only allowed out until everyone else has finished finding their shoes, but I thought that if you remembered me, you might like to come to tea tomorrow.”

“What?” Callum said, genuinely startled. People usually got to know him before they invited him home, and sometimes by then their parents had got to know about him too, and so he never actually got to go. “At your house?”

“No,” Jonah said, as if Callum were being ridiculous. “I don’t have a house in England. At the boarding house.” And he pointed at one of the big gray buildings across the street, the one that looked almost as old as the cathedral. Callum hadn’t realized any of these were actually still proper buildings that people, let alone people he knew, could live in.

“Okay, then,” he said, trying to sound casual, because getting too excited about stuff wasn’t cool.

Obviously nobody had ever explained the rules of cool to Jonah, because his whole face lit up as if Callum had just given him the best Christmas present ever. “Wonderful!” he said, and then glanced over to the door of the school. “I have to go now. I’ll see you tomorrow!” And he fled, cloak flapping behind him, to join on the end of the line of choristers heading across the close toward the big doors of the cathedral.

Callum rather wished he had a cloak by the end of the afternoon. The day had started off cold and gray, but soon it began to rain, a chilly drizzle that kept turning into sleet and then back to rain. At first it was fun, because they could squash into the stall behind the warmth of the portable grill and listen to the rain drumming on the roof. The grill didn’t heat up his feet, though, and it got cramped after a while, and there were hardly any customers to distract him, so Mum just kept getting more fed up, especially once Callum got the jitters and had to fidget because he couldn’t bear standing still any longer.