Reunion, a Glastonbury Tales short story

Reunion

Sleeping rough, you see all sorts. And up on Glastonbury Tor, you might see more than most—especially at Samhain. About to turn in for the night, Kai is greeted by a young man, Arthur, who’s not quite sure why he’s come to Glastonbury Tor—or how long it’s been since he last met his lover there.

Kai, a non-binary rough sleeper, is a side character from my Glastonbury Tales. They have a minor role in Face Blind, but we’ll see more of them in the second book, Love Blind (title tbc).

Kai liked Samhain, and this year had been a good one. The weather at the end of October could be a toss-up, usually either crisp and cold or mild and wet, neither of which was great when you lived on the streets, but tonight was that rare combination of dry, clear, and not yet too cold. There had been a high turnout for the celebrations up on Glastonbury Tor, and folk had been in a good mood. That meant they were more generous to rough sleepers they saw on the way. It wasn’t just money, either. Old Mr Larcombe, who’d come up here regularly in the summer but came less frequently now the cold was getting into his joints, had brought Kai a flask of homemade soup. Kai had appreciated that; it wasn’t easy getting your vitamins when you were sleeping rough. Mr Larcombe had said he’d come back for the flask, but Kai hadn’t liked that idea; the poor old bloke had moved slowly, his back bowed beneath the weight of all his years.

The soup, a hearty mix of root vegetables spiced with turmeric, had brought Kai memories of times before… Well, before, when there had been Halloween parties and trick-or-treating. A house that was warm against the cold, and brightly lit against the dark of evenings that started mid-afternoon. A house full of food, and love, and comfort…

Kai shook themself. No point dwelling on memories. Then again, there wasn’t much else to do, up here in the moonlight at the edge of the tor with only a sleeping bag for company, now all the revellers had gone home.

“I say, are you all right?” The voice was young and posh.

Startled, Kai looked up to see the slender, shadowy figure of a young man—well, male-presenting person; Kai was the last person to make assumptions. “I’m fine, ta. But if you could spare some change…” they added automatically.

The youth plunged his hands into the pockets of some seriously wide trousers. Must be one of those vintage enthusiasts. “Ah. That’s odd… I’m sorry, but it seems I’m clean out. I’ll make sure I bring some next time I’m up here. But shouldn’t you be off home? It’s a full moon tonight. Not safe, you know. Oh—manners. I’m Arthur.” He smiled engagingly.

“Kai. And don’t worry. I’ve slept up here loads of times. If there were any werewolves in town, I’d have met ’em already.”

“It’s not werewolves you need to worry about…” Arthur trailed off, gazing up at the sky for a long moment. “Well, if you’re sure you’re all right?”

“I’m good, ta. You take care, okay?”

“Thank you,” Arthur said abstractedly, and walked away. Not towards town, as Kai had expected, but through the gate and along the path up the tor.

Maybe he hadn’t wanted the Samhain celebrations to end? Kai snuggled down in their sleeping bag for warmth, and closed their eyes, the scent of smoke from the now-doused bonfires still drifting in the air.

***

Arthur trod carefully—even full moonlight could fail to illuminate rabbit holes and other hazards. But the path seemed in better condition than he remembered. It was a proper path, not the trail in the grass he’d run up so many times as a child. How long had it been since he’d walked here? Arthur couldn’t quite recall. Not so long as his namesake, at any rate. The once and future king had been slumbering a good many centuries, and would probably continue to sleep for many more.

Odd to think that, if one believed the tales, King Arthur was interred less than a mile away, at the abbey, and Arthur himself was now strolling nonchalantly over the site where they’d buried the Holy Grail.

Well, perhaps not strolling nonchalantly. More, striding with purpose—although with what purpose, Arthur was for some reason not quite sure. Had he come to fetch something? Or was it to meet someone? Yes, that was it. But not just someone.

St Michael’s tower, close now, was a dim beacon in the moonlight, and Arthur’s feet carried him towards it, as they had done so many times before. His heart began to beat a little faster at the thought of who would be there to meet him—except he wouldn’t, would he? A pang in his chest, Arthur’s step faltered. But then he spied a dark figure silhouetted against the stone walls of the tower.

George.

Arthur’s breath caught. George was as handsome as ever, his broad chest and shoulders limned by moonlight, and that roguish smile of his half-revealed, half-hidden in shadow.

Arthur quickened his step, his heart skipping and an answering smile on his lips—until icy memory crashed upon him and stopped him in his tracks. “You’re dead,” he whispered, his heart broken anew.

George shook his head. “Promised I’d come back to you, didn’t I?” he said, in that coarse, working-class accent of his that Arthur had first found so thrilling, and then come to love, as he loved every part of the man before him.

“But… There was a telegram.”

“And you’d believe that over your own eyes, would you?” His tone gently mocking, George held out his arms.

It was too much. Arthur half-ran the short distance between them, and fell into George’s embrace. “I’ve missed you so much. It’s been so long.” He couldn’t have said how much time they’d been apart—only that it had been far, far too long.

“Well, I’m here now. Never gonna leave you again.”

“Promise?” Arthur gazed into George’s dark eyes.

“Promise. Now are you gonna kiss me, or what?”

Heart full, Arthur kissed him. George tasted of ale and cigarettes, just as he had their last night together, when they’d met on the tor to make their heart-wrenching farewells. Just before George had shipped out for France. Arthur hadn’t yet received his call-up papers, and he never did, because the war was over within six months of George’s departure. God, how had he forgotten? The war was over, so there wouldn’t be any bombs tonight, let the moon shine as brightly as it would. But George—

“You’re thinking too much,” George growled, and tightened his embrace.

It was an effective counter-measure, as always. Arthur kissed him again, and again, and then they lay down in the grass—miraculously not damp, or cold, as it had been that last night. No; Arthur felt a warmth he’d never known, and a love he’d never forgotten.

Kisses turned to more, all blessed by the moonlight that shone down upon them.

***

Kai blinked awake at the sound of laughter, and looked up to see the young man from before, Arthur, hand in hand with another bloke. This one was shorter, but stockier, and as he turned his face to his companion, the moonlight shone full on him, illuminating a look of adoration Kai had only seen in those Find you a man… memes. Kai smiled, their pleasure not even tinged with envy because that wasn’t a look you could be negative about in any way. It was a look to make you feel the world was a good place, in spite of everything. It was a look to give you hope.

Arthur turned his head to gaze back at his love, and Kai’s heart skipped a beat—Arthur’s shoulders stooped, his hair thinned, and the lines of his face grew coarser. Just like old Mr Larcombe…

But it was just for a moment, and then he was the straight-backed, bright young lad from before, holding hands with the man he loved. As Kai watched, the couple walked on, growing lighter, less substantial, until they faded away altogether.

Kai gazed at the space where they’d been, and then snuggled back down into the warm sleeping bag. Sleeping rough, you saw all sorts, and up on the tor you saw more than most. Especially at Samhain. A couple of happy ghosts, reunited, would definitely make Kai’s personal top ten of the weird and wonderful, though. Maybe even the top spot.

The kind old man had given Kai an address to take the flask back to, and when it was properly morning, Kai would do that. But they had a strange certainty Mr Larcombe wouldn’t be there to receive it.

For some reason, though, Kai felt nothing but happiness as they drifted off to sleep.

The End