Title: Until the Real Thing Comes Along
Author: Chris Simon
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: 05/14/2024
Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 101200
Genre: Historical, Romance, historical, family-drama, gay, 1920s, 1930s, in the closet, docker, fire, Brighton, football match
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Description
It’s 1932 and middle-class Malcolm lives with his mother in Highgate. Though confident and capable at work, he is tormented by “beastly inclinations”—a strong attraction to young men. One drunken evening at Charlie Brown’s pub in Limehouse he meets Alfie, a working-class docker—and the most beautiful young man Malcolm has ever seen. Alfie is friendly, kind and changes everything by making Malcolm’s inclinations seem considerably less beastly—but in 1930s London, this can surely have no future. Alfie is younger, apparently “normal”, and from the Isle of Dogs, far from Malcolm’s cosy world of quiet privilege.
Nevertheless, Malcolm launches himself into Alfie’s world of rough pubs, a dance club, and even a football match. Resigned to a platonic friendship, he is thrilled to find that Alfie has other ideas. But by offering him something he hadn’t even dared wish for, fate may have called his bluff and he fears his own naivety and sexual inexperience will see him squander this unexpected shot at happiness. After some excruciating but sound advice from a more worldly friend, the relationship becomes sexual, and more emotional, but remains an unsuitable attachment that cannot last forever.
When Alfie is nearly killed in a fire at the docks, and war planes on maneuvers growl over the Docklands skies, both are reminded that life is too short to worry about “forever”. During a police raid on an illicit West End club, Alfie’s heroism saves Malcolm from ruin, convincing him that whatever the future holds, this boy loves him now. The disapproval of families and friends, a hostile society, Malcolm’s insecurity, and Alfie’s belief that he’ll eventually get married because “that’s what young men do” cannot thwart a love that grows in unpromising ground and endures no matter what is thrown at it.
Until the Real Thing Comes Along
Chris Simon © 2024
All Rights Reserved
Eventually, the boys rose to move on. It seemed they’d half-promised to meet some girls in another Limehouse pub. Malcolm’s heart plummeted although he’d feared they might not be there for the night. He found enough of a voice to make a protest.
“Hang on, you can’t go yet! I owe you a drink!”
They reassured him that he didn’t need to return the compliment just because they’d bought him one and told him they were running late already. But one, the smaller, wirier one named Frank, said, “Go on, Alfie, you can stay and have another. You was the one what bought the gentleman a drink, after all. If yer really set on avoiding getting earache from Nora…” He gave a scarcely perceptible wink as he said this.
There was a show of reluctance before young Alfie caved in. “Oh, all right, go on then.”
This was the best possible scenario. This young god was to stay with him. Alone. Less than twenty-four hours after his great humiliation in the East India Arms and his desperate vigil on London Bridge, Malcolm Trevelyan found himself sharing a drink in a wonderful East End pub with the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. As unlikely as it seemed, it was as though his suffering was being rewarded and the thrill of it gave him goosebumps.
“It’s probably best I don’t go with that lot tonight. There’s this girl, see? Nora. I ain’t interested no more but she won’t take no for an answer and it fair wears me out, it does. She goes on at me all the time. So, I’m all yours, mate, for a few hours anyway.”
Malcolm smiled weakly. He hadn’t much liked talk of a girl, but he wouldn’t allow anything to spoil this unexpected tryst.
“You don’t say much, do yer?” said Alfie with a bemused smile that unfairly seemed to improve upon perfection.
“I’m sorry. It’s been a long day and I’m not used to drinking this much,” Malcolm replied honestly.
“S’all right. Was it ’appy drinking or sad drinking?”
Malcolm paused for thought before answering with slow deliberation, “Well, it started off as sad drinking, but it’s ended up as happy drinking.”
“That’s ’cos you’ve met me, I expect,” said Alfie with a twinkle in his eye. He was just being cheeky, rather than arrogant.
“Well, it certainly hasn’t hurt,” conceded Malcolm, “but mostly it’s this place. It’s wonderful. Did you know this Charlie Brown fellow?”
“Yes, I did as it goes. He was a decent bloke, old Charlie. He was always good to me. A real character. I was proper upset when he went. He had a good send-off, mind. It was like a royal funeral round here. The streets was lined wiv thahsands of people from here to Bow. They buried him in Bow Cemetery, where me dad is. It was in the papers an’ everything. But hey, seeing as you’re down here and it ain’t your manor, d’you fancy going to a few other local boozers? Charlie’s son runs the Blue Posts across the road—there’s more weird old junk in there you can look at. I can give you the Cook’s tour if you like.”
Malcolm had eyes for only one treasure and would have agreed to any destination, even a pub at the Gates of Hell, were that treasure to go with him.
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Chris Simon is the youngest son of a headteacher and was born and brought up in North Wales. He attended college in Liverpool and Manchester studying Geography and English and returned to Wales to work at a holiday camp, doing everything from chalet allocations to scrubbing grill pans in the off season. He did this over three summers before moving to London to join the civil service, starting in North London benefit offices and ending with the Department for Transport in Westminster.
As well as football and music, Chris has a great love of social history, particularly that of London. After visiting the capital at the age of twelve his desire to live there became the first certainty of his life. He settled in Walthamstow in East London and is a keen supporter of Manchester City and, of course, Wales. It had always been his intention to write a novel whenever he found the time—and now he has.
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