The New Moon with the Old
Part 4
By the time he stepped into the shower on Thursday morning, Tristan felt as if two weeks had passed since he had told Robin the awful news. Adjusting the tap down slightly from Robin's preferred scalding temperature, he let the hot water pound hard against him. He had not slept well the previous night, trying to anticipate the day and plan ways to shield Robin from any possible upset. His shoulders and back were stiff with tension, and his head felt stuffed with cotton wool.
The shock had lessened a bit by Monday morning. They had eaten breakfast with his parents, then taken their time packing the car and saying good-bye. Their plan had been to simply drive until they were ready for lunch. Drew had suggested a few places along the way and, armed with that knowledge, they had started for home.
It had been past two when they stopped for lunch and poked through the claustrophobically small shop next door. They had found a birthday gift for Jamie, and as Robin paid for it, Tristan had picked up the bag and waited by the door.
When the shop assistant handed him his change, Robin trailed Tristan outside, squinting against the sunlight. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and ducked his head as they walked toward the car park. "I can carry that."
Tristan wrapped his arm around Robin's shoulders. "I have it." Unlocking the doors, he nudged his partner toward the passenger side. "I'll put it in with our bags."
As he closed the boot, Tristan looked through the rear windscreen. Robin's head was in his hands, and he was massaging his temples. Shaking his head, Tristan reopened the boot and dug through his bag for the aspirin he had packed.
He dropped the bottle into Robin's lap as he got into the car and reached into the back seat for the water.
"I took two already," Robin admitted, trying to hand back the bottle.
"When?"
"Before we left your parents'."
"Take two now with a good drink of the water. Sweetheart, there's nothing wrong with admitting you have a headache."
"If I'd told you, you would've worried."
"And?"
"And it would've ruined the day!"
"So you suffered instead."
Robin's eyebrows rose in the way that telegraphed his certainty Tristan had missed the point entirely, but he was willing to try again. "It's our day out," he explained with careful pronunciation.
"But it's not our only day out." Tristan bit back a sigh. "And yes, I do worry when you're not well."
Robin dropped his head. "You shouldn't."
Slipping a hand under his chin, Tristan forced him to meet his eyes. "It's my prerogative as your partner. Taking care of you is the most important thing in my life, and it's time you were comfortable with the idea, my lad." He saw the capitulation in the blue-grey eyes and leaned forward for a quick kiss before asking gently, "Is your head very bad?"
"I thought lunch would help, but it hasn't."
"Sunglasses in your rucksack?" Tristan asked, already reaching for it. He found them in a pocket and handed them over. "Is there anything you'd like before we start? A cup of tea or a coke might help."
"No, I just want to go home."
Tristan had given silent thanks they were over halfway to London as he pulled onto the A303. He glanced over at Robin who had tilted his seat back and closed his eyes. "Warm enough?" he asked although the sunshine had thoroughly heated the car.
"'M fine," Robin murmured.
Half an hour later, his eyes flew open and he turned a pale, panicked face toward Tristan and fumbled to release the safety belt. "Pull over, Tris! Now!"
The car had barely stopped before he had the door open. Stumbling a few feet from the car, he dropped to his knees and retched. It was all Tristan could do to stay where he was, but Robin insisted on being left alone while he was sick. It was disgusting, and he hated it. Having an audience — no matter how sympathetic — was inconceivable.
Tristan waited until Robin's stomach finally calmed, then crouched beside him, offering the bottle of water. Robin rinsed his mouth then handed the bottle back. With Tristan's help, he rose to his feet and made his way back to the car.
"Sorry, no warning," he said as he sank onto the seat.
Tristan brushed the sweaty fringe back from his forehead. "How's the head?"
"Pounding." He shivered.
Tristan grabbed his jumper from the back seat and helped Robin pull it on over his own. "It isn't far now, Robbie."
Robin started to nod, then thought better of it. Tristan tilted the seat back as far as it would go and helped Robin curl up in the confined space. He cupped the side of Robin's face, running his thumb along the cheekbone. The skin was cool and clammy, its colour faintly grey.
Tears welled up in Robin's eyes, and Tristan brushed them away, scolding softly, "Here now, you're making your headache worse. Close your eyes. We'll be home soon enough."
When they had finally arrived home, Tristan pulled into the closest available space and threw the car into park. He grabbed the bottle of aspirin and tucked it into the rucksack he pulled from the back seat. Everything else could stay put until he had Robin inside.
Robin opened his eyes and peered into the gathering dusk. "Home already?"
"Uh-huh. How's the head?"
"Still aches, but not as much."
Tristan glanced in his side mirror, and then opened his door. Before he came around the car, Robin already stood on the sidewalk, his arms wrapped tightly around himself.
"I'll bring in the rest of it later," Tristan told him. "Let's get you inside."
Without argument, Robin huddled into him as they walked the half block to their building. The lights were already on in their flat, a sign Geoff had been in.
When they reached the landing, he had just finished locking up. Taking one look at Robin's pale, pinched face, he opened the door.
"Robin?"
Robin managed a smile. "Just a bit of headache."
"More than a bit," Tristan murmured, steering him towards the bedroom.
"Have you taken anything?"
"Aspirin, but they didn't help."
Robin's teeth started chattering, and Tristan looked over his shoulder at Geoff, a plea for help in his eyes.
"Hot shower," Geoff prescribed, and Tristan went into the bath to start the water running. "How many aspirin did you take?"
"Two this morning and then two more a little while ago. Was that all right?"
"That was fine."
When the water finally started heating up, Tristan returned to the bedroom. "Get undressed, sweetheart."
Robin toed off his trainers, and then looked at Tristan and Geoff. "I can do it myself."
They left the bedroom, closing the door behind them. By the time the shower turned off, Geoff had been upstairs to retrieve paracetamol, and Tristan had switched on the kettle for tea.
Jamie arrived with a container of milk clutched in his hand, his hair tousled and his cheeks pink from the wind. He shoved it at Tristan. "Yours wasn't fresh. Where's Robbie? Bedroom?"
Before he took another step, Geoff grabbed hold of his shoulders and turned him away from the door. Jamie tried pulling away without success.
"Geoff!"
"Hold on! Robin has a bad headache and doesn't need any upset. Do you remember what we said this afternoon?"
Jamie started rolling his eyes but caught himself when he realised both Geoff and Tristan were looking at him. "Yes."
Geoff nodded. "Good. Now, it's up to Tris whether he thinks Robin needs a visitor right now."
Tristan received the full effect of pleading green eyes. "Please, Tris? I'll be very calm. I just want to see him."
Tristan looked at the mug of tea he held and then at Geoff. "Well, someone should take this in while it's hot." He returned his gaze to Jamie. "And give him these two tablets?"
Jamie took the proffered mug and pills. Tapping lightly on the bedroom door, he let himself in.
Tristan listened to the murmur of voices until Geoff put his hand on his arm. "Don't worry, Jamie will take care of him. Why don't we get your bags from the car?"
Half an hour later, Tristan opened the door a crack and peered in. The bedside lamp gave just enough light to see Jamie stretched out on Tristan's side of the bed on top of the duvet that covered Robin to the tips of his ears. Jamie was talking quietly, one hand resting lightly on Robin's hair.
"He's asleep," he reported when he saw Tristan, "but he took the pills and drank a little of the tea — and he hasn't been sick again."
"How did you know he'd been sick?" Tristan asked, taking the empty mug from Jamie.
"He always gets sick when his head is bad." A thought dawned, and he looked up at Tristan in horror. "I should've told you that he might get a headache, shouldn't I've? Oh Tris, I'm sorry. He hasn't had one in the longest time, and I just didn't think."
"Is it stress then?"
"That's what the doctor said. It isn't good to worry things the way he does."
"What else I should know?" Tristan asked.
"He'll want porridge for supper. He always does, the smell of food makes him queasy." Jamie combed Robin's hair with his fingers. "How did he do?"
"With my family? They loved him. My grandmother was in raptures."
Jamie leaned down and whispered, "Told you" in Robin's ear. "Can I stay with him, Tris?"
Tristan smiled. "It might be a while. Do you want anything?"
"No, I'm fine."
Content Robin was well looked after; Tristan closed the door and took the glass of wine Geoff had poured for him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When he finished dressing, Tristan found Robin standing at the window in the lounge, watching the street below for the car which would take them to the church. He moved to stand behind him, trying to knead some of the tension from his shoulders. Outside the window, the sky was grey and threatening. The pavement was dry with rain expected late in the day.
"Are you ready?" Tristan asked.
"Uh-huh." Robin half-turned, talking to him over his shoulder. "Tris, why do I feel like this?"
Simultaneously relieved Robin was finally talking after four very quiet days and worried the car would choose this moment to arrive, Tristan asked, "How do you feel, Robbie?"
Robin raised his eyes to meet Tristan's then looked away. "Have you ever run into a friend and asked them how they are, and they tell you their great aunt died the previous week?"
Tristan blinked, then nodded.
"You're sad for them in a distant way but it doesn't really affect you. That's the way I feel." He stopped and considered. "Shouldn't I be upset? And grieving? What's wrong with me, Tris? My father's dead, and I don't feel anything!"
"There's nothing wrong with you. Whatever you feel is right because there's no proper way to handle this."
Robin turned and faced the window as he thought about that. "If it were Jamie —"
"You're not Jamie, love. You don't feel things the same way he does." Rubbing Robin's shoulders, Tristan spied the dark car moving slowly along the street. "Here's the car."
Robin gave Tristan a swift hard hug and leaned up for a kiss. "Thank you," he whispered. "I couldn't do this on my own."
Tristan swallowed against the lump rising in his throat. "You'll never have to."
A light knock on the door announced Geoff's arrival. "The car's downstairs," he reported as he poked his head around the door. "Everyone ready?"
"Jamie's meeting us?" Robin asked as they walked down the stairs.
"As soon as he finishes," Geoff assured him. Tristan had heard of their rather lengthy discussion the previous day with Jamie insisting he would skip the ballet's mandatory daily class, and Geoff maintaining he would not.
The car waited at the curb, the driver opening the rear door as they came down the steps. Robin nodded to the man as he got into the car, murmuring a thank-you. Tristan and Geoff followed him, and the car pulled into the light traffic of mid-morning.
In the time he had lived in London, Tristan had never seen more of St. Bride's than its famed wedding-cake steeple in the skyline near St. Paul's. He knew its location near Fleet Street and long association with printers and newspaper publishers made it the obvious choice for Robert Duncan's funeral. The magnitude of the occasion struck him full force, though, as they stepped from the car. News crews competed for space with interested bystanders on both sides of the street. Their arrival went unnoticed among the mourners arriving for the service, some of them news presenters and others familiar from the back covers of the books they had written.
A grey-haired man in a quietly expensive suit met them at the door. "Robin," he called.
"That's Miles," Robin explained as he moved forward to shake hands. "Miles Davenport, Tristan Averill."
"Tristan," the solicitor said, shaking hands with him as well.
"How do you do?"
"Robin, there are people I'd like you to meet if you can spare a moment."
"Yes, of course." Robin looked at Tristan.
"We'll wait for you here."
Tristan and Geoff collected programmes from the usher and stepped back out of the way. Tristan watched as Robin shook hands with a variety of people, most of them clergy. He appeared calm, but his face had lost the little colour it had had earlier.
"There's Jamie," Geoff remarked as Jamie hurried in, nearly pushing people out of his way.
He spotted them at once and made his way across the crowded narthex to join them. "Where's Robbie?"
"Over there," Geoff said, tilting his head as he straightened Jamie's tie. "Do you have your comb?"
Jamie nodded and slipped behind them to set his hair to rights. Buttoning his suit jacket, he shot his shirt cuffs and then presented himself for Geoff's inspection. "Better?" Without waiting for a reply, he peered into the crowded church. "Good turn-out," he commented.
Robin joined them at that moment, and Tristan rubbed his back as he leaned into him. "We're to go in."
"We should find somewhere to sit," Geoff said to Jamie.
"Sit with us," Robin urged. "There'll be room."
Geoff looked at Tristan who nodded. Having Geoff and Jamie with them might ease Robin through the service. As they stepped past the screens into the nave, Robin froze as he realised the pews faced the centre aisle rather than the altar.
"It's all right, darling," Tristan said, swallowing his own surprise. "Keep walking."
They sat in the pew on the right side of the church, facing Robin's stepmother and a man only a few years older than Robin who nodded as they found their places. To their right stood a pedestal holding the urn containing Robert Duncan's ashes.
"Daphne?" Tristan murmured with a nod toward the figure in the chicest mourning frock he had ever seen.
"Miles said she's grief stricken," Robin told him.
Tristan heard Jamie snort and saw Geoff lean over to say something.
"That's Karim Rashid with her. He's to say something during the service — remembrances Miles said."
The organ prelude ended, and in the silence, the priest's voice carried the length of the church. "I am the resurrection and the life..."
The congregation stood as the procession made its way to the altar. Tristan felt Robin take a deep breath. Jamie turned toward him, one eyebrow lifted in question. At a quick nod from Robin, he returned his attention to the service.
The service moved forward, its psalms and lessons familiar and comforting. Rashid moved to the head of the aisle as the mourners sat down. When the movement quieted, he rested one hand lightly on the rail.
"The year I turned thirteen, two momentous things happened. My father died unexpectedly, and I met the man who would become friend, mentor and surrogate father to me. Robert had been a great friend of my father's, and he extended that same warmth and affection to me. I am as grateful for it today as I was the very first day we met. Most people never meet anyone with Robert Duncan's intensity and appetite for life. I was privileged to have him as an integral part of mine..."
As he continued, Tristan put his hand on Robin's thigh and gave a brief squeeze. Robin laced his fingers through Tristan's but continued staring determinedly at the reredos as he bit his bottom lip. Jamie was openly glaring, his hands clenched into fists. Beyond him, Tristan met Geoff's sympathetic eyes.
The homily was mercifully short, the rector urging them to set aside their anger at those responsible for the murder. "Robert had an enduring commitment to building awareness between different cultures. Let his death fill us not with despair, but with renewed determination to speak out against injustice."
After a final prayer and blessing, the service ended. Rashid would take the ashes back to Egypt with him and scatter them in the desert. Robin did not let go of Tristan's hand until they left the pew and followed the clergy down the aisle. Rashid and Daphne were ahead of them, and he turned to Robin and extended his hand as they reached the foot of the aisle.
"Robin, your father was an incredible man. I was honoured to know him."
Robin nodded stiffly as they shook hands. "Thank you."
Robin turned to speak to the rector, and Tristan watched him with more than a trace of pride. He was ashen, but he thanked the priest for his words during the service and the efforts of all the church's staff. When he had finished, Tristan shook hands with the priest and started to follow Robin to the waiting car.
Geoff stopped him with a hand on his arm. "We'll meet you there."
Tristan looked at him in surprise. "You aren't driving over with us?"
"Robin needs some quiet before this next bit. We'll take a taxi."
By the time he reached the car, Robin was already inside, his face turned away.
"Geoff and Jamie will meet us at the house."
As the car pulled into traffic for the short drive, Robin watched the passing buildings, his jaw working from time to time. Taking Robin's cold hand between his, Tristan tried to rub some warmth into it as he studied his partner's profile.
When the car stopped and the driver got out to open the door for them, Robin grab hold of Tristan's wrist, preventing him from moving. "I love you, Tris," he whispered fiercely. "You know that, don't you? More than anything."
"I know," Tristan assured him. "I love you just as much."
Some of the stiffness left Robin at his words, and Tristan pulled him close. Robin swiftly kissed him as the door opened.
People already filled the house and continued crowding in behind them. Robin paused in the large entry hall, his eyes sweeping over the décor.
"It looks like the lobby of a Trusthouse," Robin murmured, and Tristan silently agreed. The stark white walls, the black and white tiled floor, and rather predictable artwork combined to make it feel cold and cheerless.
"Robin dear," a woman said behind them.
Robin's face brightened as he recognised the well-dressed woman in the doorway. "Eleanor, you're here?" he asked as he moved forward.
"I flew in last night," she answered, kissing his cheek.
"I want you to meet Tris." He took her arm and guided her through the crowd. "Eleanor, this is Tristan Averill. Tris, this is my stepmother, Eleanor."
Tristan took the hand she offered. "This is a pleasure. Robin has told me so much about you."
"I'm very glad to meet you, Tristan." She glanced over her shoulder at the doorway. "I want you to meet Catherine as well, but I've lost her in the press." She quirked an eyebrow. "A horrible but accurate pun."
"Catherine's here, too?" Robin asked.
"Did you think we wouldn't be?"
"I-I hadn't thought about it," Robin confessed.
Tristan looked at the people coming through the front door and was stunned to see his parents among them. "Would you excuse me?" he asked, moving through the crowd. "Mum! Dad!" he called over the noise.
Kate kissed his cheek and brushed his hair into place in one practised motion. "How's Robin, dear? He looked so pale at the church."
"Relieved it's over, I think," he said as he hugged Drew. "I didn't know you planned on coming."
"We took the train up this morning," Drew told him, "and then your mother bullied our way into the church."
As they talked, they followed Kate across the foyer to where Robin and Eleanor stood. Tristan saw the surprise cross Robin's face followed by a diffident smile. Jamie and Geoff arrived soon after with Jamie's parents, Michael and Ruth, in tow. Tristan's first hint as to who they were came from the look of barely veiled alarm on Geoff's face.
"Didn't know they were coming?" he murmured as Robin introduced them to Kate and Drew after they had shared a warm reunion with Eleanor.
"Jamie is 'absolutely certain' he mentioned it," Geoff said, fidgeting with his shirt cuffs. "I think I might've remembered it if he had."
"They seem like wonderful people."
"Tris, they're his parents. I wasn't prepared for this."
Jamie appeared at Geoff's elbow. "I must have told you!" he insisted.
"Don't fret, love," Geoff told him. "It was fantastic meeting them."
"But I'm sure — "
"Let it go," Geoff warned quietly. "We'll talk about it later."
"Shall we go in?" Eleanor suggested. "I think we could all use something to eat."
They ventured into the salon to find it wall to wall with people, most of whom were enjoying a superior luncheon. Catherine joined them; kissing Robin hello and thanking them for rescuing her from a small army of overseas correspondents who felt honour bound to convey their sympathies. Tristan liked her at once. She did not have her mother's elegance, but she was handsome with an easy smile.
"Catherine!" Jamie said, slipping through the crowd to give her a hug.
Catherine returned the hug with the same ferocity. "How's my favourite dancer?"
"I'm fine. Have you met Geoff yet?"
"Not yet."
As Jamie performed the introductions, Tristan realised she was almost as important to Jamie with his three older sisters as she was to Robin. He beamed as she responded to something Geoff said.
"He's always adored her," Ruth Talbot remarked as they joined the queue for the buffet.
"She offered the only sympathetic female ear he had growing up," her husband said, picking up a plate. He winked at Tristan. "There were times I envied him."
"Dear, the odds were always against you, even before Jamie left for London."
"As they still are..."
Part 5
The shock had lessened a bit by Monday morning. They had eaten breakfast with his parents, then taken their time packing the car and saying good-bye. Their plan had been to simply drive until they were ready for lunch. Drew had suggested a few places along the way and, armed with that knowledge, they had started for home.
It had been past two when they stopped for lunch and poked through the claustrophobically small shop next door. They had found a birthday gift for Jamie, and as Robin paid for it, Tristan had picked up the bag and waited by the door.
When the shop assistant handed him his change, Robin trailed Tristan outside, squinting against the sunlight. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and ducked his head as they walked toward the car park. "I can carry that."
Tristan wrapped his arm around Robin's shoulders. "I have it." Unlocking the doors, he nudged his partner toward the passenger side. "I'll put it in with our bags."
As he closed the boot, Tristan looked through the rear windscreen. Robin's head was in his hands, and he was massaging his temples. Shaking his head, Tristan reopened the boot and dug through his bag for the aspirin he had packed.
He dropped the bottle into Robin's lap as he got into the car and reached into the back seat for the water.
"I took two already," Robin admitted, trying to hand back the bottle.
"When?"
"Before we left your parents'."
"Take two now with a good drink of the water. Sweetheart, there's nothing wrong with admitting you have a headache."
"If I'd told you, you would've worried."
"And?"
"And it would've ruined the day!"
"So you suffered instead."
Robin's eyebrows rose in the way that telegraphed his certainty Tristan had missed the point entirely, but he was willing to try again. "It's our day out," he explained with careful pronunciation.
"But it's not our only day out." Tristan bit back a sigh. "And yes, I do worry when you're not well."
Robin dropped his head. "You shouldn't."
Slipping a hand under his chin, Tristan forced him to meet his eyes. "It's my prerogative as your partner. Taking care of you is the most important thing in my life, and it's time you were comfortable with the idea, my lad." He saw the capitulation in the blue-grey eyes and leaned forward for a quick kiss before asking gently, "Is your head very bad?"
"I thought lunch would help, but it hasn't."
"Sunglasses in your rucksack?" Tristan asked, already reaching for it. He found them in a pocket and handed them over. "Is there anything you'd like before we start? A cup of tea or a coke might help."
"No, I just want to go home."
Tristan had given silent thanks they were over halfway to London as he pulled onto the A303. He glanced over at Robin who had tilted his seat back and closed his eyes. "Warm enough?" he asked although the sunshine had thoroughly heated the car.
"'M fine," Robin murmured.
Half an hour later, his eyes flew open and he turned a pale, panicked face toward Tristan and fumbled to release the safety belt. "Pull over, Tris! Now!"
The car had barely stopped before he had the door open. Stumbling a few feet from the car, he dropped to his knees and retched. It was all Tristan could do to stay where he was, but Robin insisted on being left alone while he was sick. It was disgusting, and he hated it. Having an audience — no matter how sympathetic — was inconceivable.
Tristan waited until Robin's stomach finally calmed, then crouched beside him, offering the bottle of water. Robin rinsed his mouth then handed the bottle back. With Tristan's help, he rose to his feet and made his way back to the car.
"Sorry, no warning," he said as he sank onto the seat.
Tristan brushed the sweaty fringe back from his forehead. "How's the head?"
"Pounding." He shivered.
Tristan grabbed his jumper from the back seat and helped Robin pull it on over his own. "It isn't far now, Robbie."
Robin started to nod, then thought better of it. Tristan tilted the seat back as far as it would go and helped Robin curl up in the confined space. He cupped the side of Robin's face, running his thumb along the cheekbone. The skin was cool and clammy, its colour faintly grey.
Tears welled up in Robin's eyes, and Tristan brushed them away, scolding softly, "Here now, you're making your headache worse. Close your eyes. We'll be home soon enough."
When they had finally arrived home, Tristan pulled into the closest available space and threw the car into park. He grabbed the bottle of aspirin and tucked it into the rucksack he pulled from the back seat. Everything else could stay put until he had Robin inside.
Robin opened his eyes and peered into the gathering dusk. "Home already?"
"Uh-huh. How's the head?"
"Still aches, but not as much."
Tristan glanced in his side mirror, and then opened his door. Before he came around the car, Robin already stood on the sidewalk, his arms wrapped tightly around himself.
"I'll bring in the rest of it later," Tristan told him. "Let's get you inside."
Without argument, Robin huddled into him as they walked the half block to their building. The lights were already on in their flat, a sign Geoff had been in.
When they reached the landing, he had just finished locking up. Taking one look at Robin's pale, pinched face, he opened the door.
"Robin?"
Robin managed a smile. "Just a bit of headache."
"More than a bit," Tristan murmured, steering him towards the bedroom.
"Have you taken anything?"
"Aspirin, but they didn't help."
Robin's teeth started chattering, and Tristan looked over his shoulder at Geoff, a plea for help in his eyes.
"Hot shower," Geoff prescribed, and Tristan went into the bath to start the water running. "How many aspirin did you take?"
"Two this morning and then two more a little while ago. Was that all right?"
"That was fine."
When the water finally started heating up, Tristan returned to the bedroom. "Get undressed, sweetheart."
Robin toed off his trainers, and then looked at Tristan and Geoff. "I can do it myself."
They left the bedroom, closing the door behind them. By the time the shower turned off, Geoff had been upstairs to retrieve paracetamol, and Tristan had switched on the kettle for tea.
Jamie arrived with a container of milk clutched in his hand, his hair tousled and his cheeks pink from the wind. He shoved it at Tristan. "Yours wasn't fresh. Where's Robbie? Bedroom?"
Before he took another step, Geoff grabbed hold of his shoulders and turned him away from the door. Jamie tried pulling away without success.
"Geoff!"
"Hold on! Robin has a bad headache and doesn't need any upset. Do you remember what we said this afternoon?"
Jamie started rolling his eyes but caught himself when he realised both Geoff and Tristan were looking at him. "Yes."
Geoff nodded. "Good. Now, it's up to Tris whether he thinks Robin needs a visitor right now."
Tristan received the full effect of pleading green eyes. "Please, Tris? I'll be very calm. I just want to see him."
Tristan looked at the mug of tea he held and then at Geoff. "Well, someone should take this in while it's hot." He returned his gaze to Jamie. "And give him these two tablets?"
Jamie took the proffered mug and pills. Tapping lightly on the bedroom door, he let himself in.
Tristan listened to the murmur of voices until Geoff put his hand on his arm. "Don't worry, Jamie will take care of him. Why don't we get your bags from the car?"
Half an hour later, Tristan opened the door a crack and peered in. The bedside lamp gave just enough light to see Jamie stretched out on Tristan's side of the bed on top of the duvet that covered Robin to the tips of his ears. Jamie was talking quietly, one hand resting lightly on Robin's hair.
"He's asleep," he reported when he saw Tristan, "but he took the pills and drank a little of the tea — and he hasn't been sick again."
"How did you know he'd been sick?" Tristan asked, taking the empty mug from Jamie.
"He always gets sick when his head is bad." A thought dawned, and he looked up at Tristan in horror. "I should've told you that he might get a headache, shouldn't I've? Oh Tris, I'm sorry. He hasn't had one in the longest time, and I just didn't think."
"Is it stress then?"
"That's what the doctor said. It isn't good to worry things the way he does."
"What else I should know?" Tristan asked.
"He'll want porridge for supper. He always does, the smell of food makes him queasy." Jamie combed Robin's hair with his fingers. "How did he do?"
"With my family? They loved him. My grandmother was in raptures."
Jamie leaned down and whispered, "Told you" in Robin's ear. "Can I stay with him, Tris?"
Tristan smiled. "It might be a while. Do you want anything?"
"No, I'm fine."
Content Robin was well looked after; Tristan closed the door and took the glass of wine Geoff had poured for him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When he finished dressing, Tristan found Robin standing at the window in the lounge, watching the street below for the car which would take them to the church. He moved to stand behind him, trying to knead some of the tension from his shoulders. Outside the window, the sky was grey and threatening. The pavement was dry with rain expected late in the day.
"Are you ready?" Tristan asked.
"Uh-huh." Robin half-turned, talking to him over his shoulder. "Tris, why do I feel like this?"
Simultaneously relieved Robin was finally talking after four very quiet days and worried the car would choose this moment to arrive, Tristan asked, "How do you feel, Robbie?"
Robin raised his eyes to meet Tristan's then looked away. "Have you ever run into a friend and asked them how they are, and they tell you their great aunt died the previous week?"
Tristan blinked, then nodded.
"You're sad for them in a distant way but it doesn't really affect you. That's the way I feel." He stopped and considered. "Shouldn't I be upset? And grieving? What's wrong with me, Tris? My father's dead, and I don't feel anything!"
"There's nothing wrong with you. Whatever you feel is right because there's no proper way to handle this."
Robin turned and faced the window as he thought about that. "If it were Jamie —"
"You're not Jamie, love. You don't feel things the same way he does." Rubbing Robin's shoulders, Tristan spied the dark car moving slowly along the street. "Here's the car."
Robin gave Tristan a swift hard hug and leaned up for a kiss. "Thank you," he whispered. "I couldn't do this on my own."
Tristan swallowed against the lump rising in his throat. "You'll never have to."
A light knock on the door announced Geoff's arrival. "The car's downstairs," he reported as he poked his head around the door. "Everyone ready?"
"Jamie's meeting us?" Robin asked as they walked down the stairs.
"As soon as he finishes," Geoff assured him. Tristan had heard of their rather lengthy discussion the previous day with Jamie insisting he would skip the ballet's mandatory daily class, and Geoff maintaining he would not.
The car waited at the curb, the driver opening the rear door as they came down the steps. Robin nodded to the man as he got into the car, murmuring a thank-you. Tristan and Geoff followed him, and the car pulled into the light traffic of mid-morning.
In the time he had lived in London, Tristan had never seen more of St. Bride's than its famed wedding-cake steeple in the skyline near St. Paul's. He knew its location near Fleet Street and long association with printers and newspaper publishers made it the obvious choice for Robert Duncan's funeral. The magnitude of the occasion struck him full force, though, as they stepped from the car. News crews competed for space with interested bystanders on both sides of the street. Their arrival went unnoticed among the mourners arriving for the service, some of them news presenters and others familiar from the back covers of the books they had written.
A grey-haired man in a quietly expensive suit met them at the door. "Robin," he called.
"That's Miles," Robin explained as he moved forward to shake hands. "Miles Davenport, Tristan Averill."
"Tristan," the solicitor said, shaking hands with him as well.
"How do you do?"
"Robin, there are people I'd like you to meet if you can spare a moment."
"Yes, of course." Robin looked at Tristan.
"We'll wait for you here."
Tristan and Geoff collected programmes from the usher and stepped back out of the way. Tristan watched as Robin shook hands with a variety of people, most of them clergy. He appeared calm, but his face had lost the little colour it had had earlier.
"There's Jamie," Geoff remarked as Jamie hurried in, nearly pushing people out of his way.
He spotted them at once and made his way across the crowded narthex to join them. "Where's Robbie?"
"Over there," Geoff said, tilting his head as he straightened Jamie's tie. "Do you have your comb?"
Jamie nodded and slipped behind them to set his hair to rights. Buttoning his suit jacket, he shot his shirt cuffs and then presented himself for Geoff's inspection. "Better?" Without waiting for a reply, he peered into the crowded church. "Good turn-out," he commented.
Robin joined them at that moment, and Tristan rubbed his back as he leaned into him. "We're to go in."
"We should find somewhere to sit," Geoff said to Jamie.
"Sit with us," Robin urged. "There'll be room."
Geoff looked at Tristan who nodded. Having Geoff and Jamie with them might ease Robin through the service. As they stepped past the screens into the nave, Robin froze as he realised the pews faced the centre aisle rather than the altar.
"It's all right, darling," Tristan said, swallowing his own surprise. "Keep walking."
They sat in the pew on the right side of the church, facing Robin's stepmother and a man only a few years older than Robin who nodded as they found their places. To their right stood a pedestal holding the urn containing Robert Duncan's ashes.
"Daphne?" Tristan murmured with a nod toward the figure in the chicest mourning frock he had ever seen.
"Miles said she's grief stricken," Robin told him.
Tristan heard Jamie snort and saw Geoff lean over to say something.
"That's Karim Rashid with her. He's to say something during the service — remembrances Miles said."
The organ prelude ended, and in the silence, the priest's voice carried the length of the church. "I am the resurrection and the life..."
The congregation stood as the procession made its way to the altar. Tristan felt Robin take a deep breath. Jamie turned toward him, one eyebrow lifted in question. At a quick nod from Robin, he returned his attention to the service.
The service moved forward, its psalms and lessons familiar and comforting. Rashid moved to the head of the aisle as the mourners sat down. When the movement quieted, he rested one hand lightly on the rail.
"The year I turned thirteen, two momentous things happened. My father died unexpectedly, and I met the man who would become friend, mentor and surrogate father to me. Robert had been a great friend of my father's, and he extended that same warmth and affection to me. I am as grateful for it today as I was the very first day we met. Most people never meet anyone with Robert Duncan's intensity and appetite for life. I was privileged to have him as an integral part of mine..."
As he continued, Tristan put his hand on Robin's thigh and gave a brief squeeze. Robin laced his fingers through Tristan's but continued staring determinedly at the reredos as he bit his bottom lip. Jamie was openly glaring, his hands clenched into fists. Beyond him, Tristan met Geoff's sympathetic eyes.
The homily was mercifully short, the rector urging them to set aside their anger at those responsible for the murder. "Robert had an enduring commitment to building awareness between different cultures. Let his death fill us not with despair, but with renewed determination to speak out against injustice."
After a final prayer and blessing, the service ended. Rashid would take the ashes back to Egypt with him and scatter them in the desert. Robin did not let go of Tristan's hand until they left the pew and followed the clergy down the aisle. Rashid and Daphne were ahead of them, and he turned to Robin and extended his hand as they reached the foot of the aisle.
"Robin, your father was an incredible man. I was honoured to know him."
Robin nodded stiffly as they shook hands. "Thank you."
Robin turned to speak to the rector, and Tristan watched him with more than a trace of pride. He was ashen, but he thanked the priest for his words during the service and the efforts of all the church's staff. When he had finished, Tristan shook hands with the priest and started to follow Robin to the waiting car.
Geoff stopped him with a hand on his arm. "We'll meet you there."
Tristan looked at him in surprise. "You aren't driving over with us?"
"Robin needs some quiet before this next bit. We'll take a taxi."
By the time he reached the car, Robin was already inside, his face turned away.
"Geoff and Jamie will meet us at the house."
As the car pulled into traffic for the short drive, Robin watched the passing buildings, his jaw working from time to time. Taking Robin's cold hand between his, Tristan tried to rub some warmth into it as he studied his partner's profile.
When the car stopped and the driver got out to open the door for them, Robin grab hold of Tristan's wrist, preventing him from moving. "I love you, Tris," he whispered fiercely. "You know that, don't you? More than anything."
"I know," Tristan assured him. "I love you just as much."
Some of the stiffness left Robin at his words, and Tristan pulled him close. Robin swiftly kissed him as the door opened.
People already filled the house and continued crowding in behind them. Robin paused in the large entry hall, his eyes sweeping over the décor.
"It looks like the lobby of a Trusthouse," Robin murmured, and Tristan silently agreed. The stark white walls, the black and white tiled floor, and rather predictable artwork combined to make it feel cold and cheerless.
"Robin dear," a woman said behind them.
Robin's face brightened as he recognised the well-dressed woman in the doorway. "Eleanor, you're here?" he asked as he moved forward.
"I flew in last night," she answered, kissing his cheek.
"I want you to meet Tris." He took her arm and guided her through the crowd. "Eleanor, this is Tristan Averill. Tris, this is my stepmother, Eleanor."
Tristan took the hand she offered. "This is a pleasure. Robin has told me so much about you."
"I'm very glad to meet you, Tristan." She glanced over her shoulder at the doorway. "I want you to meet Catherine as well, but I've lost her in the press." She quirked an eyebrow. "A horrible but accurate pun."
"Catherine's here, too?" Robin asked.
"Did you think we wouldn't be?"
"I-I hadn't thought about it," Robin confessed.
Tristan looked at the people coming through the front door and was stunned to see his parents among them. "Would you excuse me?" he asked, moving through the crowd. "Mum! Dad!" he called over the noise.
Kate kissed his cheek and brushed his hair into place in one practised motion. "How's Robin, dear? He looked so pale at the church."
"Relieved it's over, I think," he said as he hugged Drew. "I didn't know you planned on coming."
"We took the train up this morning," Drew told him, "and then your mother bullied our way into the church."
As they talked, they followed Kate across the foyer to where Robin and Eleanor stood. Tristan saw the surprise cross Robin's face followed by a diffident smile. Jamie and Geoff arrived soon after with Jamie's parents, Michael and Ruth, in tow. Tristan's first hint as to who they were came from the look of barely veiled alarm on Geoff's face.
"Didn't know they were coming?" he murmured as Robin introduced them to Kate and Drew after they had shared a warm reunion with Eleanor.
"Jamie is 'absolutely certain' he mentioned it," Geoff said, fidgeting with his shirt cuffs. "I think I might've remembered it if he had."
"They seem like wonderful people."
"Tris, they're his parents. I wasn't prepared for this."
Jamie appeared at Geoff's elbow. "I must have told you!" he insisted.
"Don't fret, love," Geoff told him. "It was fantastic meeting them."
"But I'm sure — "
"Let it go," Geoff warned quietly. "We'll talk about it later."
"Shall we go in?" Eleanor suggested. "I think we could all use something to eat."
They ventured into the salon to find it wall to wall with people, most of whom were enjoying a superior luncheon. Catherine joined them; kissing Robin hello and thanking them for rescuing her from a small army of overseas correspondents who felt honour bound to convey their sympathies. Tristan liked her at once. She did not have her mother's elegance, but she was handsome with an easy smile.
"Catherine!" Jamie said, slipping through the crowd to give her a hug.
Catherine returned the hug with the same ferocity. "How's my favourite dancer?"
"I'm fine. Have you met Geoff yet?"
"Not yet."
As Jamie performed the introductions, Tristan realised she was almost as important to Jamie with his three older sisters as she was to Robin. He beamed as she responded to something Geoff said.
"He's always adored her," Ruth Talbot remarked as they joined the queue for the buffet.
"She offered the only sympathetic female ear he had growing up," her husband said, picking up a plate. He winked at Tristan. "There were times I envied him."
"Dear, the odds were always against you, even before Jamie left for London."
"As they still are..."
Part 5