Call It Love by Kristian Parker
General Release Date: 1st March 2022
Word Count: 22,375
Book Length: NOVELLA
Pages: 98
Genres:
EROTIC ROMANCE,GAY,GLBTQI,HISTORICAL
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Book Description
Charlie didn’t believe in love…until he set himself free.
It’s 1922 and after his house guest Frank Harris ran away with the under-butler, Charlie Fitzwilliam has been summoned to face the music. With the vindictive butler Bennett now watching his every move and his father planning out his life for him, Charlie finally faces up to who he is and makes a bid for freedom.
Alone for the first time in his life, he meets Michael Leonard, a kind, caring bookseller. Convinced that sex with men is only for fun, Charlie experiences a summer of self-discovery that takes him to the English seaside, the doorstep of old friends and the arms of a lover who shakes his whole belief system.
But disowned by his parents and cut off from the life he knew, can Charlie make a future for himself…and will Michael be a part of it? Is this affair something that can be called love?
Reader advisory: This book contains instances of period-typical homophobia.
We spent an hour hatching a plan. Agnes, God bless her, gave me every last bit of cash she had and some she stole from Tilly. Getting away from the remote villa had been an issue. Again, Agnes came up trumps. She managed to use her feminine wiles to convince the young driver that I needed to get the first train to Porto. We made up a story that I had decided to surprise Ana with a wonderful engagement ring at dinner that night.
We were so convincing that he offered to drive me all the way to Porto. But that wouldn’t do—I had my sights set farther away than that.
Good old Aggie held on to me tightly when we said goodbye. “Go and find happiness, Charlie.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
She took hold of my hand, tears welling in her eyes. “Not for a while, though, eh? I’m good at lying, but I’m not perfect.”
Of course, getting on the wrong side of Father would be more devastating for her than me. She needed his money until she found someone to love her. I wouldn’t risk that for anything.
“Until we can see each other again then.” I hugged and kissed her before we set off down the drive and towards my freedom.
* * * *
The streets of Lisbon were crammed. I’d only really had a glimpse of the capital city when Bennett and I had transferred from the ship to the train. Now I found myself in the middle of Baixa district, surrounded by shops. I had fled the villa in only the clothes I was standing up in, but I had plenty of money in my pockets and proceeded to visit the establishments.
After a busy hour, I had kitted myself out in a whole new wardrobe and, I had to admit, it had been fun.
I realised I had perhaps gone a little too far when I had to buy not one, not two, but three suitcases to fit all my purchases in.
I decided I should probably choose a more downmarket hotel until I could get to England and access my bank account. Typical me, getting carried away in the shops and suffering afterwards.
I walked past the São Jorge hotel. It looked clean enough from the outside, but, judging by the clientele who staggered out, it was on the cheaper side. It would do.
The room was a study in brown with a flat-looking bed and rickety chair. I had stayed in worse, but I had stayed in a lot better too.
I slept until about five o’clock. It had been a fraught few days. I woke up with a hunger that took over my whole being.
First things first. The bar should be my first destination. After all the subterfuge of the day, I craved a port to calm my nerves. On second thoughts, perhaps I’ll have a gin. My appetite for port had left me.
I trotted down the stairs and to Reception. Being a fugitive suited me. I could imagine poor Father would be fit to burst by now. I couldn’t have cared less. He only had himself to blame.
The receptionist directed me to the bar. As it contained just a man reading a newspaper in one corner, I had no danger of getting into trouble. I flopped down on the sofa near to him and caught the attention of the barman.
“Gin and tonic, if you don’t mind.”
The man lowered his paper. “A fellow countryman.”
I nodded and glanced around for anything to read, to no avail. Obviously intent on conversation, he swiftly folded his paper and deposited it onto the table next to him.
“What brings you to Lisbon?” he asked.
Not the most original opener, but I realised I had no cover story. I could hardly say “Oh, I’m on the run from an overzealous Portuguese fiancée.”
“A bit of this, bit of that,” I managed. “How about you?”
“Ah well, books are my trade. I’m here to buy, but I’m also here on a bit of a pilgrimage.”
He looked bookish in his tweed suit and round-rimmed glasses. I figured he’d be in his early thirties. He ran his hand through his pomaded hair and sat forward.
“Pilgrimage? Sounds interesting,” I said.
The waiter came with my drink. “Can I offer you one?” I said to my companion.
“No, I’m set, thanks.”
“So, you were saying?”
“Mafra Palace. It’s supposed to be a beautiful place with the most exquisite library. More than thirty thousand books. I had to fit it into this little trip.”
I had never been one for books, but this chap’s enthusiasm couldn’t be faulted. “Sounds wonderful.”
“What about you? Any plans?”
Did I have any plans? Not as such. I’d got off the train and dashed to the docks, expecting to board a boat immediately, but had been told that the next ship to Southampton wasn’t going for two days. I planned on lying low in my room with a bottle. Perhaps other options were opening up for me.
“Say, why don’t we grab a bite to eat?” I offered. “I’m sorry—I don’t know your name.”
“Michael Leonard.”
“Charlie Fitz…” Was it wise to be so open to a stranger? “Fitzgerald.”
After we’d finished our drinks, we wandered out into the city. We soon found a little restaurant serving the most wonderful spicy chicken and washed it down with a bottle of the local wine. A satisfactory way to put my first day of freedom to bed.
Michael turned out to be wonderful company, describing his shop on the south coast of England in a little town called Worthing. It sounded like a perfect existence. He’d inherited it from his parents who had passed away ten years ago, but he had been trained all his life to take over.
We soon found ourselves back in the hotel bar, and I insisted he share a brandy with me.
“I’ve had a lovely evening. Much preferable to a meal for one again,” he announced with a warm smile.
I took a sip of the brandy, enjoying the burn as it trickled down my throat. “Yes, me too.”
“Did you say you didn’t have any plans tomorrow?”
“Not a thing.”
“Why don’t you come with me to Mafra? I’ve got a car and driver booked for eight a.m.”
Something about Michael Leonard had piqued my interest.
“Why not?”
We clinked glasses.
* * * *
“Mr Fitzwilliam. It is seven o’clock.”
There should only be one seven o’clock in a day and it should involve a gin and tonic.
“Mr Fitzwilliam?”
“Yes, all right.”
Stretching, I got up and fumbled about for the lamp. Perhaps that last brandy had been a bad idea, but I hadn’t wanted to leave the bar and come back to my brown cell. The light came on and instantly blinded me. I sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed my eyes.
Michael had been wonderful company the evening before. Once I’d confessed my ignorance around books, we’d discovered plenty of common ground. He had narrowly missed getting into Cambridge to study but had had a wonderful time up at Durham University.
Yes, spending the day with him would be interesting. We were on the same boat to England as well. There could be the chance for a bit of fun on the high sea…if I hadn’t mistaken his glances.
With a spring in my step, I started to get ready.
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Kristian Parker
I have written for as long as I could write. In fact, before, when I would dictate to my auntie. I love to read, and I love to create worlds and characters.
I live in the English countryside. When I’m not writing, I like to get out there and think through the next scenario I’m going to throw my characters into.
Inspiration can be found anywhere, on a train, in a restaurant or in an office. I am always in search of the next character to find love in one of my stories. In a world of apps and online dating, it is important to remember love can be found when you least expect it.
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