“And there were ten years between Rob and our Mum”, and I was sorry the moment I’d said it. I was trying to say why we’d not liked her third husband, and here I was walking into a trap with my little brother and his much older boyfriend, in the conservatory of their crazy love nest in the countryside. “I guess I’m not one to judge on age gaps”, Giles said, with a smile. Fred gave me a glare. “Rob was a shit”, he said, “nothing to do with his age”. Giles was far older than Rob. I hoped the other guests would turn up soon.”
The next morning we had a late breakfast. “Brunch” my friend at work would have called it. But really it was just a builders’ breakfast with bloody marries. And bloody good they were too!
I was meant to be packing, but I went down to the conservatory, and then out to the garden, in the rain. There they were. On the beach. Hand in hand. I could see Fred laughing. You can just tell when he’s laughing. And he hugged Giles. And they kissed each other. And they walked down to the sea.