The Rule of Three by Kristian Parker
General Release Date: 7th June 2022
Word Count: 51,253
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 211
Genres:
CONTEMPORARY,EROTIC ROMANCE,GAY,GLBTQI,MÉNAGE AND MULTIPLE PARTNERS
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Book Description
When a handsome stranger arrives, James and Ed have to make a choice that will change their lives.
James Durkin is happy. He’s landlord of the pub, chair of the parish council and secret lover of his best friend, Ed Cropper. But Ed, tired of living in the shadows, dreams of living openly, something James can’t contemplate.
Then there’s Arthur Whittaker. When the handsome young primary school teacher comes to live in the village, he signals a future that neither James nor Ed ever saw for themselves.
But the small Yorkshire village of Napthwaite is a place that’s resistant to change, meaning the three men must be strong enough to forge their own path…
Will they overcome the odds—and tradition—to find the love they crave, or will their brave new world crumble to nothing under the pressure?
Reader advisory: This book contains instances of homophobia, and references to parental death and on-page drug taking.
He strode up the lane, past the imposing gates to Thorpe Hall. He’d had to get out of the pub for an hour. He couldn’t focus on anything. It had been a week since he’d stormed out of the farm and Ed had been silent. They had argued before, but usually one of them gave in. Usually Ed.
He stopped at the bridge before the green to take a break from the heat. He leant against the mossy stone and stared across at the pub that had been his whole life. He remembered his father treating it like another part of the family. They couldn’t go on holiday when the other kids did because the pub needed all his attention. They never had days out together in the summer because he didn’t dare leave.
The familiar lump appeared in James’ throat when he thought about his parents. It had been a decade since they had gone and it still felt raw. Then his mind turned to Ed. He had no idea where this had come from. He had never mentioned them being open about who they were before. But he knew Ed bottled things up. The fact he never spoke about his own parents told James that.
The babbling stream rushed below him furiously. So much anguish must have happened in this village and still the water flowed. He stared up at Briar Woods on the hills that rose behind the church. They had guarded this little group of people for centuries. It made their problems seem so insignificant.
He had tried to contact Ed countless times, but it had gone to voicemail. He’d even driven up and banged on the door. Madge had greeted him with her usual bark which meant Ed was in there, but the door remained unanswered.
With a sigh he got up and carried on through the green, enjoying the shade the beech trees that lined the street gave him.
“Morning, James,” Mrs Turnbull shouted as she vigorously pruned the rose bush in her front garden.
“Morning, Mrs T.”
Her husband had been a great friend of his father. They’d used to go on golfing holidays together out of season. Both gone now.
On Queen Street, there were a few people popping in and out of the shops. Most of them waved at him and he returned their cheery greetings.
He needed to pick up some milk and would have to brave his sister. He’d tried to avoid her for the past week, no mean feat in a village like this. She could be relentless in her pursuit of the truth.
Luckily, she lived the busiest life in Napthwaite. She had taken over the shop from Mrs Brannigan about six years ago once Joel, her youngest, had started at school, turning it around from a pretty rubbish grocer’s to a one-stop shop for most of the village. Well, one-stop if people weren’t too fussy what they ate.
He wandered listlessly inside. Daylight meant nothing in Liz’s treasure trove. She believed that windows took up good shelving space. Other than the front window—she would never get rid of that. Her cash register and bridge of this operation lay there. From this vantage point, she managed to see everything that went on.
Liz piled up cheap bottles of white wine on the front shelf where a neon sign declared summer specials. He frowned at the plonk. At least this place held no competition for The King’s Arms.
She stood, surveyed her handiwork with a nod then barged past him. “Move out of the way.” She almost shoved him into a display of breakfast cereal as she scuttled to her position by the window. She darted her head back and forth like a demented blackbird, trying to get a good view.
“What are you up to?” James asked.
She beckoned him closer. “That bloody Kathleen Brockbank has pushed me too far this time.”
James rubbed his head. The feud with the newsagents across the road seemed to have been going on longer than time itself. “What’s she done?”
His sister had been the beauty of the village, but hard times and harder work had taken its toll. Rapidly approaching her fortieth birthday, she looked ten years older.
“Don’t say it like that,” she said. “Like I’ve lost my marbles. She’s stocking essentials now. Bread, milk, butter.” She stood with her arms folded over her tabard, presenting evidence to an imaginary courtroom.
“What’s the problem with that? Seems a good idea. They’re open way later than you.”
Liz angrily rearranged the packets of sweets she piled up near the tills to tempt whining kids. “That’s exactly what she says at the same time as undercutting me. Snide bitch.”
He couldn’t face this. He trudged down the aisle of trifle sponges, beef paste and crackers that resembled cardboard. Would it kill her to stock something decent?
Grabbing four bottles of milk from the fridges, he steeled himself and walked up to the till.
“You wouldn’t say the same if she started stocking booze,” Liz said with a sniff, ringing the items up.
“Like you do, you mean?” James replied.
“He’s got you there, Mum,” said Dean, coming in from the storeroom with an armful of tins.
She huffed. “Less of your lip, first born. That’ll be four pounds sixty, little brother.”
Liz had made it very clear that family discount would not be part of her business plan. She also criticised every supermarket carrier bag she found in his house as disloyalty. James wondered if she honestly expected people to make meals from the tins of meat and pots of noodles she stocked.
He handed over a five-pound note. “Keep the change. Get yourself something nice.”
She stared at him as if noticing him for the first time. “You’re still in a mood, I see.”
He started to pick up the milk. He wished Becky had come. Liz’s incessant pecking took stronger fortitude than he had today.
“You’ve been like a bear with a sore head for the best part of a week now. What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing is the matter with me.”
She started to absentmindedly dust the till. “Okay, man of mystery. I asked Ed the other day why you’re being a grouch. He said you hadn’t seen each other much lately. Don’t tell me you got yourself a woman.”
James started to pile up the bottles of milk in his arms. But Liz hadn’t finished yet.
“Or perhaps Ed has got a woman and poor little James has been pushed out. Is that it? Lost your favourite playmate?”
He held the four bottles tight. “Or perhaps not everything is your bloody business, Liz. Now excuse me. I need some bread and I hear across the road’s is cheaper and let’s face it, yours is usually stale.”
“Don’t you even think about it, James Durkin. I’m warning you.”
He barged out of the shop with her threats ringing in his ears. As he crossed the road, he knew she would be pressed up against the window. It served her right.
As he approached the enemy across the road, the door opened and out came Ed. They ran straight into each other, knocking James’ milk to the road. One bottle burst open and instantly little rivers of white appeared in the cobbles.
“Oh, shit,” Ed exclaimed.
“Don’t worry about it,” James mumbled, bending down to pick up the three still intact bottles.
“I’ll give you some money for it.”
James straightened up and looked deep into Ed’s eyes. “Is that where we are now? Awkwardly giving me a quid for some fucking milk?”
He instantly regretted his outburst as Ed stood silent.
“How have you been?” James said, a little more gently.
“Awful. You?”
“Worse.”
He had so many things he wanted to say, but they stuck in his throat. The newsagent’s door opened again and Jenny Holdsworth came out.
“Hello, both,” she said pleasantly as she headed off towards the green. “Oh, James. Rob said not to forget training is Wednesday this week, not Tuesday.”
James nodded, and they watched her walk towards the green. “Well, I’d best be getting on. I’ve left Becky on her own.” They started to walk their separate ways before he turned. “Ed?”
Ed turned. The eagerness on his face broke James’ heart.
“Can’t we find a way through this?”
James’ heart felt as hopeful as Ed’s eyes. He wanted things to be normal so desperately he could almost taste it.
“Have you changed your mind?”
“You know how I feel,” James replied.
Ed came closer. “Which means we have no future. Not as friends or…anything else.”
“Do you think your mum and dad would want you telling all and sundry our business?”
Ed’s face turned to pure rage. James knew he’d stepped out of line. “Don’t you bring them into this. Don’t you dare.”
“I didn’t mean…”
“You know what? Take care of yourself, James.”
Ed hurried away, not looking back even though James watched him until he disappeared into the Post Office. His gaze shifted to Liz’s shop. She stood in the doorway, holding up a bottle of milk. He put on a brave face as he crossed over the street, tiptoeing around the puddles they had created.
“Thanks.”
“On the house, little brother. Sorry I shouted at you.”
Typical Liz. A storm would explode out of nowhere then she would survey the damage, full of remorse. She had been the same when they were kids. Their mother would make her have time out in the car park, by the stream, to think about the words she had used.
“I wouldn’t really have bought bread in there,” James said, taking the bottle from her.
“You bloody would, you pig-headed little shit,” she replied, with a smile.
“Well, only to teach you a lesson.”
Liz rubbed his arm. “I don’t know what’s gone on with you two, but I’m sure you’ll sort it out. You’ve been best friends for nearly thirty years. Why don’t you come for your tea tonight? It’s your night off, isn’t it?”
Mondays were his night off. He and Ed had called them movie nights and taken it in turn to choose what to eat and what to watch. Perhaps a night with the family would be perfect to take his mind off things. “Sure, I’ll see you at six?”
“I’ll make your favourite.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek and went into the shop. She wasn’t such a bad sister. Some of the time.
As he set off for to the pub, he cast a glance down the street and saw Ed walking towards his farm. The tears started to well up inside him and he dashed across the green.
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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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