Chapter 16

Click here to read the Disclaimer and Warning.

Chapter 16: Celebration

I slept through most of the flight, only waking up when the cabin lights were turned back on and natural light began to filter in through some of the unshaded windows. Ashok's hand was still in mine, even though he was awake and lying on his side, watching me.

"Good morning," I said quietly after clearing the dryness out of my throat. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did. For the first time since I lost Pankaj, I wasn't afraid."

I glanced around the semi-private enclosure made by our seats. "It is rather cozy in here, isn't it? Our own safe little haven."

"Yes, but it wasn't this place that made me feel safe. It was you," he explained.

"Aw, I'm glad for that," I said, squeezing his hand. "You're away from the Emirates now, so no need to be afraid. We'll all look after you."

"What if the visa doesn't work?" he frowned with concern. "What if they send me back?"

"Don't you worry about that. I'm sure the papers are all in order, but if not, Dré only has to ring his father and everything will be straightened out."

He tried, but couldn't manage to erase the concern from his face.

"Ashok," I squeezed his hand. "Believe me, everything will be fine. And if it's not, I have at least another week of holiday. If worst comes to worst, I'll fly with you to India and we'll wait there together for Dré to fix things. No matter what happens, you're not going to be alone. Not anymore. All right?"

"You would go with me to India?" he asked in disbelief.

"I certainly would. I've never been to India. It would be an adventure. But I'm willing to bet you're the one who will start your London adventure today."

"Well, look who finally woke up," Greg said from the entry to our compartment. I looked over and noticed that he was focused on Ashok and my joined hands. I briefly considered snatching my hand back, but then I decided against it. I wasn't doing anything wrong. Not only was the hand holding innocent, the boy had wanted me to do it. Breaking the hold now would only upset him.

"What do you mean, finally?" I asked Greg instead.

"I stopped by earlier to wake you, but you have quite a devoted protector. Ashok insisted I let you sleep."

"Oh," I said, surprised. "You didn't need to do that, Ashok. Did you at least tell him how to work the entertainment, so he wouldn't be bored while I was sleeping?" I asked Greg.

"I offered," Greg said with a smirk, "but Ashok said he was fine just watching you."

I could feel my cheeks warming, now truly self-conscious about holding Ashok's hand in mine. I pulled my hand back and used it to grab for the seat controls, bringing the bed back upright.

"You were probably worried about disturbing me, but I would have been fine. There are headphones," I said to Ashok, who looked confused, and then at Greg, who wasn't buying my excuses.

"In any event, time for breakfast. We'll be landing soon. And here's Annie," he said, stepping out to make room for the flight attendant.

"Good morning!" she said cheerily. "May I interest you in some breakfast, gentlemen?"

"I'll have a full English with coffee," I replied. "How about you, Ashok? What would you like for breakfast?"

"Maybe some toast and tea?" he said hesitantly.

"We have a lovely mint omelet," Annie suggested. I arched my brow, thinking that an unusual concoction, but apparently Ashok was familiar with it because he nodded in approval.

"That sounds good. Thank you."

"I'll be right back," Annie announced and left.

"I'd best get back to my seat," Greg said, poking his head back in. "See you both later."

"Are Dré and Vince up yet?" I asked before he could leave, as Ashok adjusted his seat. I was grateful for having been spared Dré's unique brand of wake-up call on this leg of the trip.

"They are, believe it or not," Greg said in a normal tone of voice, and then lowered it to a whisper. "Vince kept him occupied this morning."

My eyes widened. Our enclosures were semi private, but not enough to embolden me to engage in any sort of behavior that might get me arrested on landing.

"Nothing lewd," Greg whispered, undoubtedly reading my expression. "Just enough to keep him from disturbing us."

"Ah," I nodded. "Vince is a good man, sacrificing himself for us like that."

"Indeed. Laters," Greg said with a wink and disappeared again.

"Is Mr. Vince all right?" Ashok asked, full of concern, clearly not understanding the underlying humor in my exchange with Greg.

"Vince is fine. Greg was just joking. No doubt Vince and Dré spent the morning snogging. That means kissing," I added, just in case he wasn't familiar with the slang.

"Oh!" Ashok's face lit up with a happy smile. "That is a good morning. But why did you say that was a sacrifice? Do they not like kissing? In the Emirates, men sometimes have sex together, before they are married, but it is not a love act and they do not kiss."

I was surprised to hear this, but I decided not to interrogate him. Instead, I simply assured, "That was part of the joke. Vince and Dré love kissing each other, so there was no real sacrifice. But Dré can be a prat sometimes, and by keeping him distracted, Vince was helping us as well."

We talked more over breakfast, and then briefly visited with Vince and Dré before using the toiletry kits to freshen up in the toilets. By the time we were done, the plane had begun its descent. I could see Ashok growing nervous again, so I reached to take his hand and held it securely in mine. He smiled at me and visibly relaxed, even as the plane's wheels touched the ground.

"Here we are," I said after the plane rolled to a stop at our gate and the seat belt sign was turned off. "Welcome to England, Ashok." I stood and pulled him up into my arms, giving him a warm hug. "Everything will be fine, don't worry. Let's get our bags and go."

We walked through the airport in a group, Ashok gripping my hand. He looked around with curiosity as we progressed, watching the other people and the ever present adverts. I wished there was something I could do to calm his nerves, but I knew he wouldn't truly relax until we left the airport. I frowned when we reached passport control.

"Ashok has to go into a different line," I observed, pointing to the lines set up specifically for holders of UK passports, and then to the lines for visitors. Ashok's eyes filled with panic and his grip on my hand tightened.

"I'll go with him," Dré took charge. "Come along, Ashok," he started walking to the visitor line, but stopped when he saw Ashok rooted in place, still holding my hand and looking at me for confirmation.

"Go on with Dré," I told him. "He knows best how to handle these bureaucrats. You'll be in good hands."

Ashok released my hand and walked over to Dré, looking back at me one last time before following our thin friend. I saw Dré put his arm around Ashok's shoulders and speak to him, and I was struck once again at how Ashok seemed to bring out the protective instinct in all of us.

"You two seem to be getting on well," Greg commented casually when Dré and Ashok were out of earshot.

"He's just a kid, and he's scared about living in a new country where he doesn't know anyone. Is it any wonder that he's clinging to us, the only people he does know?" I challenged, feeling defensive.

"It's no wonder at all," Vince said, calm as always. "And of all of us, it's most important that he feels comfortable with you, Rick."

"He seems to be comfortable and I'm doing my best to keep it that way. Oh, say, he told me on the flight that today is his birthday. He's all of twenty now."

"Wow, today? What are the odds?" Greg mused. "We should celebrate. We're all a bit knackered, though, and it is a work night," he mused. "I know, why don't you all come to my place for an early dinner? We'll get some Thai take-away and I'll buy a cake. Nothing fancy and nothing late. All right?"

"Good idea, Greg. We'll be there," Vince announced. Greg and I both knew that if Vince wanted to be there, Dré would come along without much fuss.

"That's a plan. I think I have some beer and wine at the flat I can bring along. Thanks for organizing the cake. And I bought him those things in Dubai. That'll give him some presents to open. Do any of you have wrapping paper?"

"I'll pick some up when I get the cake," Greg said. "I'll need to go shopping for the week anyway, and Helena always likes a trip to the store."

One by one, we moved through passport control and made our way to the luggage carousels. Greg and Vince watched for our bags while I kept my eyes out for Dré and Ashok. I finally saw them a few minutes later. Dré was smiling smugly while Ashok watched him, seemingly in awe.

"Any problems?" I asked as they walked over.

"We're out here, aren't we?" Dré pointed out the obvious. "The agent tried to give me grief about not walking through the UK line, but I quickly disabused him of the notion that he had any authority over me," Dré explained. "He presumed to tell me about protocol so I pulled out my mobile and offered to ring up Thames House to see if Sir Harry might have a different protocol in mind."

"You have the number of the Director General of MI5?" I asked incredulously.

"No," Dré said with a wide smile. "I was bluffing on that one."

"But you sounded so..." Ashok spoke, stopping to search for the right word.

"Confident. I believe the word you are looking for is confident. And of course I was. That's the only way to bluff."

"What if he called you on it?" I asked, somewhat annoyed that Dré would take such a risk, but he just shrugged carelessly.

"I would have rung father. You can best be sure Sir Harry takes his calls. And anyway, my bluff worked. Why are we wasting our time talking about it?"

He walked ahead to join Vince, who was just pulling their suitcase off the conveyor belt. Greg had already retrieved his case and mine, so we walked out through the nothing to declare customs line and out into the terminal.

"There he is, Mummy. Daddy, Daddy!" It was just after seven on a Sunday morning, and Terminal Five was still relatively empty, so it was easy for all of us to hear Helena's excited squeal. Greg gave me a small look and I gave him a quick nod in return, understanding perfectly what he was asking, before he dropped his hold on his luggage and ran forward to the end of the barrier holding back the waiting friends and family. He picked up his daughter and swung her around, then peppered her face with small loving kisses, Helena giggling with delight the entire time. When Ashok saw me take hold of Greg's suitcase, he immediately bent down to retrieve the discarded shoulder bag.

"I missed you, Daddy. You were gone for sooooooooo long!" Helena complained.

"I know, Princess, I missed you too. I'm back now, though, and the next time I leave we'll be going to see your Tati, and you'll be coming with me."

"Yay!" Helena clapped and turned to the rest of us. "Hello Uncle Dré and Uncle Vince and Uncle Rick!"

"Hello yourself, little Lady," Dré spoke for both him and Vince.

"Hi, Lene," I said, setting Greg's suitcase at his feet. "You're up awfully early this morning."

"I know!" she said proudly.

"I tried to convince her to stay at home, but she just wouldn't have it," Luna said, walking up to our group from where she had been waiting with Helena behind the barrier. "Sorry Greg, but your daughter is as stubborn as Viktor sometimes."

"No worries, Lunes. I'm just sorry you had to get up so early," Greg said contritely.

"It was no trouble," Luna said in her high, almost ethereal voice. "I often get up early to watch the sunrise. The colors are so amazing!"

I saw Dré roll his eyes and worked hard to keep my grin off my face. Dré had little patience for Luna's eccentricities.

"Who's this, Daddy?" Helena asked when Ashok placed Greg's bag next to his suitcase.

"This is Ashok, Lene. He's originally from India, but has been living in the United Arab Emirates for a while, and now has moved to London. He'll be staying with Uncle Rick for a while. Ashok, this is my daughter, Helena, and her mother, Luna."

"Hello," Ashok said shyly in their general direction. None of us had told him about Helena and Luna, and I could tell he was confused.

"I'll explain later," I leaned down to whisper directly in his ear.

"Hi, Ashok! I like your hair. I'm glad Uncle Rick has a new friend," as always, Helena spoke her mind.

"Ashok's friends with all of us," I corrected.

"Even me?" she demanded.

"I think especially you," Ashok answered quietly. His smile grew to match Helena's.

"Well, as much fun as standing around Terminal Five is, I think it's time for us to get home," Dré announced.

"Good point, Dré. Let's all get home and unpack," Greg agreed. "Lene, I have to put you down now so I can get the luggage."

"Okay, Daddy," Helena sighed dramatically at the imposition, but was otherwise cooperative.

"You lot are taking the Heathrow Express back, right?" Dré asked.

Greg looked to me and Luna. "I thought we would, yes."

"Then we'll leave you here. We have to catch the shuttle back to Central Station."

"Right, well, we'll see you later," Greg spoke for all of us.

"You will?" Dré was confused.

"I'll fill you in on the way, Duck," Vince said. Dré glanced at his partner with surprise, but stayed predictably quiet. Dré rarely contradicted Vince.

"Good," Dré nodded as if he was fully briefed and in control of the situation. "Let's go before we grow roots and become part of this terminal." Vince picked up their suitcase and they walked off to the sound of our goodbyes.

We turned and headed for the train platforms where we would catch the Heathrow Express into Paddington. Luna and Helena had picked up their return tickets on their way in and Greg had already purchased tickets for him, me and Ashok the day we left London, so all we had to do was take the series of escalators down to the platforms and wait for the next train. Since Greg and I had our hands full with the luggage, neither one of us was available to hold onto Ashok as we walked. As if she could sense his nerves, Helena decided to fill in for us and slipped her little hand into his. She reminded him to be careful on the moving staircases and chattered away about the things she and her mummy did while both of her daddies were gone out of the country at the same time. I listened to her monologue with mild amusement, confident that Ashok understood only very few of her many local references. He seemed engrossed in her story, however, and she was thrilled to have an audience who let her go on and on without interruption, seemingly neither bored nor distracted. Walking behind them, Luna was quietly off in her own little world. Greg and I brought up the rear.

"Looks like those two are going to get along famously," I observed quietly.

"She is nattering his ear off, isn't she? I hope he's not too polite to say something if she's driving him crazy," he whispered back.

"He seems just fine. I think she's taking his mind off the gravity of all this. He was so nervous earlier. Distraction can only be a good thing."

"Well, there's no one better than my daughter to provide a distraction," Greg laughed. "She'll distract him to death."

After a short wait the train arrived. We waited for the nearest carriage to empty of arriving passengers and then boarded, quickly snagging five seats next to the baggage rack. Helena took the window seat on one side, with Greg sitting beside her and Luna in the single backward facing seat across from them. Ashok took the window seat on the other side of the aisle and I sat next to him.

"How are you doing, Ashok? Tired?"

"A little," he admitted.

"We'll be home soon. We can take a few hours to get some more sleep. Then Greg wants us all over at his house for an early dinner."

"Do you all live near each other?"

"Near enough, by Tube anyway. I walk to Greg's flat from mine sometimes, when the weather's nice. Dré and Vince live a little farther away, but it's not too bad on the train."

"Do you not drive?"

"I don't own a car. Neither do Greg and Viktor." I laughed when I saw the shock on his face. "I imagine for someone whose employer owned as many cars as yours did, that's quite unthinkable, but public transport in London is more than adequate."

At that moment the train pulled out of the tunnel beneath Heathrow and continued to accelerate as daylight flooded the carriage. Ashok turned towards the window to get his first glimpse of his new homeland.

"We're still in the suburbs," I told him. "It's more congested in the city."

"It is so green everywhere," Ashok observed.

"Yes. England's no desert. I hope you don't mind drizzle, because we have plenty of that, and definitely not as much sun as you're used to."

"The weather is not so important. It is the people that matter," he replied wisely. "Why are we not stopping at the stations?" he asked as we zoomed past people standing on a platform.

"This is an express train, designed to get people from the airport into London in fifteen minutes. In order to do that we have to maintain a high speed and bypass all the stops in between. Other trains will be by to pick up those people."

He nodded his understanding and continued looking out at the passing scenery. I sat back and watched, knowing the ride would soon come to an end. I could hear Helena chattering on the other side of the aisle, undoubtedly sharing with her father all the things she'd previously told Ashok, but I managed to tune her out by trying to figure out how to best integrate Ashok into my flat and my life. Considering all he had to his name fit in that tiny backpack, moving him in was not going to exactly cramp my style. After Jasper left, I had slowly redistributed my stuff into the empty spaces he left behind, but there were a couple of drawers that barely held anything, and it would be no problem to have Ashok use those to store his things. The flat was cozy, but the two rooms and a kitchen would give us the option to have private space if we needed it. The only real issue would be the sleeping arrangements. The sleeper sofa in the living room wasn't uncomfortable, as I found out the couple of times I let my parents have my bedroom while they were visiting and staying with me in London, but Ashok had already been uprooted enough without being relegated to a temporary bed. Then again, even though my bed was certainly large enough for two, we couldn't exactly share it. I resolved that in the short term I would take the sofa, while considering the options for a long term solution.

I would have kept on musing, but just then the train slowed down, signaling our impending arrival at Paddington station. Ashok was still glued to the window, but Greg stirred next to me. I glanced over at him to see Helena as fascinated with the views outside the train as Ashok.

"Should we get the baggage ready?" Greg asked and I nodded. I had a feeling we were both eager to get home. We stood up and pulled the bags off the storage rack. By the time we were done, the train had pulled into the dome-roofed station and slowed to a stop.

"Time to go," I announced. Helena, Ashok and Luna stood up and followed us off the carriage.

"Now we're going to take the Tube," I heard Helen explain to Ashok. "We'll need to use our oysters."

"I do not have an oyster," Ashok responded, panic creeping into his voice.

"Daddy! Ashok doesn't have an oyster!" Helena raised her voice to inform us.

"We'll get him one at the ticket booth, Lene," Greg told her over his shoulder.

"They sell oysters in train station ticket booths in London?" Ashok marveled. "In Dubai we have to go to the fish market."

"The fish market? That's so silly!" Helena giggled. "Why would you go there?"

"I think Ashok is talking about real oysters, Helena. The ones that live in the sea," Luna explained.

"Oh!" Helena laughed as she finally understood. "No, no, no. Not those oysters. That would be very silly, wouldn't it? The oyster is a card, like this," I didn't look back, but I imagined her opening her little purse to show her new friend the card that was her pride and joy. She loved that her fathers trusted her with the responsibility of carrying it around herself. "You swipe it and the turnstile lets you go through. You have to be very careful and not lose it," she admonished, "because you'll need it to get out too."

"I will not lose it," Ashok promised solemnly. I turned to look at Greg and we both grinned.

Since it was still early on a Sunday, there weren't many people in the station and it took no time for Greg to buy an Oyster card for Ashok. Helena was only too happy to show him how to use it, and then the two of them traveled down the escalator together.

"I believe we're watching the beginning of a beautiful friendship," I told Greg and Luna as we stepped onto the escalator.

"He seems very sweet and patient," Luna agreed in her high, tinkling voice. "And I think children can make a new place seem less scary, so he'll benefit from being with her too."

We were fortunate that we didn't have to wait long for the next train and that the carriages were mostly empty. Knowing we didn't have a long way to go, Greg, Luna and I chose to stand near the luggage, while Ashok and Helena sat together. The tracks of the circle line were below street level, but still open to the sky, so Ashok continued to crane his neck to look up at the city above us. He didn't seem to mind the limitations of the view.

A few minutes later we reached Notting Hill Gate. Helena knew the route and stood up as the train slowed.

"This is our stop," she announced. "You and Uncle Rick have to stay a little longer," she nodded in affirmation. "It was nice meeting you, Ashok. I hope I see you again soon."

"You'll see him later today, Lene," Greg informed. "Rick and Ashok are coming to dinner."

"Oh good. See you later, then, Ashok," Helena gave him a wave as the doors opened and she, Greg and Luna exited the train.

"I'll ring you before we come over," I called to Greg as the doors were closing. He gave me an acknowledging wave. Ashok got up and stood next to me. Even though the carriage was mostly empty, it was obvious he felt uncomfortable even with the little distance there was between us when he was sitting. As we were getting off shortly anyway, I didn't see any reason to try persuading him to return to his seat.

"Our stop is the one after next, and then we'll just have a short walk to my flat," I told him. "Are you doing okay?"

"I am fine," Ashok confirmed, trying to sound confident. I didn't bother letting him know that I could still sense his nerves. I was sure that had I been in his place, I would have been nervous too. Instead, I put my arm around the boy's shoulders and felt him lean into me eagerly.

"You are fine, Ashok," I confirmed. "And you're only going to get better once you get to know London and get more comfortable. It's a beginning of a new life for you. A better life."

We stepped off the train at Gloucester Road station and took the short escalator up to the street level. The station was located near the corner of a fairly busy junction, giving Ashok his first real glimpse of the city. He drank it all in, seeming completely awed and overwhelmed.

"See the pub over there, the Stanhope Arms?" I asked, pointing across the street. "I sometimes stop for a pint there after work. And in this mall on the corner here," I pointed again, "is Boots and Waitrose. Waitrose is where I often buy food and Boots is where I might pick up toiletries. We'll go in for a better look when we don't have any bags, and you can buy some things for yourself."

"Oh no," he protested. "I do not have enough money to shop here. I only had a little in my room when I left. The rest was in the bank or sent to my family in India. I need to find a job before I can buy anything."

"You don't have to worry about that. Nasir gave us more than enough money to get you out of Dubai and to buy you new things here. He wants to do this for you, Ashok. Also, on such short notice, Dré was only able to get you a visitor's visa. I'm sure his father can organize a work permit, but that will take longer. For now, there's no need for you to work."

"But I will be an inconvenience. I can't..." he began.

"No buts," I cut him off. "You're not an inconvenience. We knew exactly what we were doing when we went to get you out of Dubai. To be honest, I'm looking forward to having a flat mate. It'll be nice to have someone to talk to when I get home from work."

I might have been exaggerating, but not by much. I knew the guys would support me through this break-up with H., just as they had in the past, but they could only be there for me some of the time. The hardest times were always the ones when I was all alone. With Ashok in the flat with me, those times would be limited to nights, when hopefully I'd be sleeping.

We walked to the corner of Cromwell Road and Gloucester Road and Ashok immediately noticed the advert signs on the building.

"Mr. Rick, look!" he exclaimed.

"Just Rick, right? And yeah, Emirates airlines has a pretty large presence in London. In fact Arsenal, the professional football team Victor plays for, plays in Emirates stadium."

"Oh!" Ashok was clearly surprised.

"It's just an airline company, Ashok. Nothing to worry about," I reassured him. Ashok nodded, but moved so close to me, we may as well have been joined at the hip as we walked down Gloucester Road. I didn't mind. It was nice to have someone look up to me and depend on me for a change. Someone who didn't know enough of my history to have preconceived negative opinions, but only saw the good things I was doing for him. Helping him, taking care of him, made me feel better about myself than I had in a long time, and I was determined to hold onto that feeling, no matter what.

I showed Ashok the other exit to Waitrose, the one that was closer to Granville Place and would make for a shorter walk with the groceries. We then turned right off the main road and walked the remaining distance to my flat.

"This is beautiful," Ashok exclaimed when we stopped in front of the white townhouse that had once been a single family home, but had since been split into several flats, including mine.

"I like it," I agreed as I unlocked the front door. "It has a certain charm and you can't beat the location. The flats have been updated, so we have modern amenities. And then there is the park," I pointed across the street. "All the residents have a key to the gates. It's probably more of a plus for families with dogs and children, but I also take advantage of it every once in a while, especially in summer. It's nice to have a peaceful bit of green where you can relax."

On the way up to the flat I finally began to feel tired. I was very glad when I reached the door and unlocked it, pulling the bag into the small entry hallway and leading Ashok in before closing and locking the door behind us.

"I know it's not very large, especially considering the compound you're used to, but welcome to your new home, Ashok. I mean that. I want you feel at home here."

"Thank you Mr...I mean Rick. Thank you, Rick." Ashok said, looking into my small galley kitchen and then into the living room. "It is so kind of you to take me in."

"Nonsense," I dismissed. "We talked about this already. I'll enjoy having a flat mate. Now," I said, leading him further inside. "This is the bathroom. There are two doors - one here and one from the bedroom, so if you need complete privacy you'll want to make sure both are locked. Living alone, I tend to ignore closed doors and it may take me a while to break the habit. And here's the bedroom. I will empty some of the chest drawers for your things and make room in the wardrobe. Obviously there's only one bed in here, but you can sleep here while I'll take the sofa bed in the living room."

"Rick, no! I could not take your bed," Ashok was aghast.

"You can, and you will. I tend to go to sleep late and wake up early for work, so it's better if I sleep out there. It will give you a chance to sleep in and relax a little. I'm sure you more than deserve that."

"But," he tried again.

"I told you, no buts. Now, are you hungry? I haven't been shopping this week, so I don't have much food, but I'm sure we can put together a small breakfast."

"No, thank you," he shook his head. "The food on the plane was fine," he finished with a yawn that he couldn't quite stifle.

"Okay. I can see you're tired, though, and truth be told, so am I. We didn't exactly get a full night's sleep on the plane. How about a little shut eye?" I asked. "Forty winks, some sleep, like a nap?" I explained when Ashok seemed confused by my terminology.

"That sounds good," Ashok admitted when he finally understood.

"Good. It's settled then. You take the bed and I'll be in the living room."

Ashok opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it, but looked fairly miserable.

"What is it?" I asked kindly.

"Would it be too much to ask you to nap here, with me?" he asked quietly, and I could tell it took all of his courage to make the request. I recalled how much he craved close contact since we picked him up at the compound, and I was sure this was just an extension of that need. I didn't have the heart to say no, and I couldn't really see anything wrong with the two of us napping together.

"No, of course it's not too much," I told him, reaching behind him to help him shrug off his backpack. "Come on, let's lie down."

Ashok glanced at the bed and lay down on top of the covers.

"I'll just open the windows to give us some fresh air, and then I'll join you, all right?" I asked, moving towards the bedroom window. I opened it about halfway while at the same time drawing down the shade to block out some of the light. I quickly made my way to the living room, where I also opened the window for the cross breeze, before returning to the bedroom and climbing onto the bed beside Ashok.

"I'm sure this isn't going to help us with the jet lag," I told him, "But I have a week to re-adjust to London time."

I pulled my mobile out of my pocket and set the alarm for one in the afternoon, which would give us a couple of hours to shower and get ready for dinner at Greg's. I put the phone on the night stand and turned onto my side, tucking my arm under my pillow. Ashok flipped onto his side and lay facing me, watching me with those soft, deep brown eyes.

"I will never be able to thank you enough," he whispered.

"Hush. Like I already told you, no thanks necessary. I'm glad you're here. Now, let's get some sleep," I said, leaning over to press my lips to his forehead. He shimmied across the bed, closing the space between us until he tucked himself into my chest. I figured he needed this to feel safe, so I draped my arm around his shoulders, holding him to me. We closed our eyes, and this time I might have fallen asleep first, not waking until I heard the sounds of my phone alarm.

The insistent beeping coming from my nightstand was most unwelcome and for a while I did my best to ignore it, but eventually I returned to consciousness and opened my eyes. By some miracle Ashok managed to sleep through the noise, and was still breathing evenly, snuggled into my body. Although I was loathe to disturb him, the noise was truly annoying so I unwrapped my arm from around him and reached back to grab the phone. I pressed the button to turn off the alarm and placed the phone back on the nightstand, marvelling that the boy in my bed still had not stirred. I wondered how many sleepless nights he'd had since his partner's death and if this was the first time he'd felt safe enough to fall into such deep sleep. It was time for us to start getting ready, but since we weren't both going to shower at the same time anyway, I decided I could get up first and give him a few more minutes of apparently precious sleep.

Ashok murmured a protest when I pulled away from him to slip off of the bed, but he didn't wake up. As quietly as possible, I moved to the bathroom and closed both of the doors before stripping down and jumping into the shower. My home bathroom wasn't as well appointed as the one we'd had in Dubai, but it was fairly modern and there was something comforting about being at home, using one's own toiletries and towels. I deliberately took my time and, when washing my privates reminded me that it had been a couple of days since I last wanked, I took care of that too. I tried to keep my mind clear as I stroked, because I refused to let H. back into my life, even in this small way, but that only resulted in other thoughts flooding in. Somewhat disturbingly, most of them involved a beautiful Indian boy with smooth dark skin, deep dark eyes and full beautiful lips. While inappropriate, thinking about Ashok was better than remembering H., and I told myself that men routinely fantasized about people they just met, the novelty of the fantasy making it more satisfying. As long as my thoughts stayed private, they caused no harm, and I was sure after a couple of days living together the novelty would wear off and I would move on to thinking about other men.

After I re-washed and sprayed down the shower to ensure no evidence of my activity remained, I stepped out and towelled off. I immediately realized that I hadn't brought any fresh clothes into the bathroom with me, so I wrapped the towel around my waist and decided to find something to wear. I opened the door to the bedroom quietly, in case Ashok was still sleeping, but the way his head snapped in my direction as soon as he heard the sound told me he was already awake.

"You're up," I greeted him as I emerged from the bathroom. "I was hoping you'd sleep through my shower. It looked like you needed it."

"I..." he began and stopped, staring at me for a few moments. "I just woke up," he finally said. "I hope I will not make us late."

"Not at all. We have plenty of time for you to shower and change."

"Change?" He seemed confused as he pushed himself to a sitting position.

"Change out of your travel clothes into a different outfit," I explained.

His face clouded. "I do not have a lot of clothes. I wore uniforms for work, and I left all those behind. I could put on the Kurta and Pajama Pankaj gave me for my eighteenth birthday. It is more formal than jeans."

I looked at him blankly. "Kurta and Pajama? Is that what you call traditional Indian clothes?"

He nodded. "Perhaps that is not appropriate to wear here?"

"No, it's fine. There are many Indian men and women in London who routinely wear traditional clothing, and many who wear western clothing as well. Either is fine. You and I will go shopping tomorrow and get you more clothes, so you'll have more options, but as far as tonight goes, you can stay as you are or change. Dinner at Greg's is not formal," I knew there were a couple of new outfits for him in my suitcase, but I wanted to save those for him to open as his birthday presents, so I wasn't ready to give them to him just yet. Now that I mentioned changing, though, I realized he might not feel comfortable wearing what he had worn on the plane. I was trying to figure out how to solve the problem I created when something he said gave me an idea. "Though, did you say you have an outfit that Pankaj gave you for your birthday? I think it would be a very nice tribute to him for you to wear that tonight, on your first birthday in England."

Ashok considered my suggestion and then nodded. "I think Pankaj would like that, and I like it too."

"I think he would like that as well," I agreed. "Now, would you like to shower? Not that you need to," I added hastily, "but it is rather refreshing."

"Yes," he nodded. "I will shower. I would like to be clean when I put on the Kurta. I have never worn it out in public before. It is very special. One of a kind. Pankaj had it made just for me in India. His mother hired a seamstress who decorated it beautifully," there was wistfulness in his voice as he recalled the garment and, no doubt, the man who took such care to select it.

"Very well, then," I said, relieved to have something else to focus on. "Help yourself to my shampoo, soap or shower gel, whichever you prefer. If you don't care for them, we can get you something else tomorrow. The extra towels are in the closet just out here in the hall," I spoke as I moved to the hallway to open the closet that held extra towels and bedding, as well as my coats and jackets. Ashok slipped off the bed and followed me, moving close to my side to peer inside the closet. Suddenly I was very aware that I was wearing nothing more than a towel.

"Here you go," I said, reaching in and pulling down a bath towel, which I thrust into his hands. "Do you need anything else? Would you like to shave?" I stared at his face which showed just the barest shadow of a beard. Ashok reached up to touch his own cheek.

"I usually shave in the morning," he said uncertainly.

"Quite right. I do as well, and there's no need to change your routine. I do have an extra disposable razor that you're welcome to use tomorrow."

For a moment he stood before me, both of us seemingly frozen, not knowing what we should do next. Then, suddenly he pressed himself against me again in another hug, holding the folded towel in front of him so that his arm and the towel formed an extra barrier between us.

"Thank you!" he said again, and I knew I would soon need to be firmer in my demand that he stop these constant displays of gratitude. For now, though, it felt good to feel the light scruff of his face scrape lightly against my chest.

"All right," I said after a few moments, pushing him away and in the direction of the bathroom. "Go shower while I find something to wear. See you in a few."

He disappeared into the bathroom while I returned to the bedroom and pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a short-sleeved polo shirt. Then I quickly went back to the hall and transferred the things I bought for Ashok from my suitcase into the shoulder bag I'd planned to take to Greg's house. Ashok was still in the bathroom when I finished, so I rang Greg while I continued to unpack. He happened to be at the supermarket with Helena picking up a cake and candles, and indicated that Helena was overjoyed to be throwing a surprise birthday party for her new friend.

"I'm pretty happy about it as well. Don't forget the wrapping paper, right?" I reminded.

"My daughter has informed me that gift bags are much prettier, easier, more convenient and reusable," Greg recited, and I smiled at the image I had of Helena standing by his side, counting off gift bag attributes on her fingers and nodding her approval when her dad remembered them all.

"That's perfect, thanks! We'll be at yours in an hour or so. Don't forget, we're bringing the beer and wine."

"Brilliant. See you both then."

The door to the bathroom opened just as I hung up. I turned and stopped to stare in stunned silence. Ashok had looked fantastic in the jeans and tee shirt he wore earlier, but he looked even better naked, save for a towel wrapped around his waist.

"I forgot to bring my bag into the bathroom," he explained his state of undress. "Is it okay for me to dress here?"

"Of course," I nodded. "I'll leave and give you some privacy."

"No, it is not necessary," he protested, looking at my suitcase, which was half empty. "Please continue and just ignore me."

I tried to continue, but it was impossible to ignore him. I watched as he brought his backpack from the hallway and placed it on the bed before carefully taking out a folded shirt and trousers and a pair of underpants. I wanted to look away, but my eyes refused to cooperate, plastered to the dark skin of his back, smooth except for two thin ridged scars that criss- crossed each other over his left shoulder blade and mid back. I narrowed my eyes, wondering where he had gotten those scars and not liking the explanations I came up with. Then all other thoughts were forgotten when he unwrapped the towel and let it fall to the floor as he reached for the underpants. From where I was standing I could just see the curved outline of his tight little butt as he leaned over and pulled on the cocoa-colored bikini pants, which on him looked like flesh tone, adjusting the fit in both the back and the front.

I swallowed hard and finally forced myself to look down and focus on my unpacking, reminding myself that Ashok wasn't here for me to ogle. He was so grateful for what we did for him, I was sure it wouldn't take much to convince him to do things with me he didn't necessarily desire himself, and I didn't even want to give him a hint of the impression that this was something I wanted from him. I made sure not to look at him again until I was certain enough time had passed for him to be fully dressed. When I did finally turn to see him standing next to the bed, garbed from head to toe, I stared again.

He looked absolutely amazing. The calf-length loose shirt he wore was made of a shiny, dark peach colored cloth resembling raw silk that had been decorated all over with gold thread stitched in a leafy paisley pattern. The cuffs and collar were trimmed with more gold thread, stitched closely together to form a border. The collar stood up in the back and then came together in the front in a v neck to end in an arrow point. The lightweight trousers were made of the same fabric, but left plain with no gold thread decoration. They were tapered and bunched into folds at the ankle, but hung loose otherwise. Together, the outfit looked exotic and almost regal, and it didn't hurt that the boy wearing it was already extremely good looking.

"Wow, Ashok!" I said when I finally recovered.

"Do you like it?" he asked shyly. "I never wore it out, but I used to put it on sometimes for Pankaj, in our room. He loved seeing me in it and I loved wearing it for him. Knowing how much care he took in buying it for me made me feel very loved."

"It is clear he loved you very much!" I said. The clothes I had bought for him in Dubai suddenly seemed plain and boring in comparison.

"It was a very generous gift and it almost caused us trouble. The rest of the staff gave me a cotton Kurta for my eighteenth birthday. It was nice, but not nearly as nice as this one. Sanjiv was suspicious when he saw this. He didn't think someone like me should have anything as nice as this, and he asked why Pankaj would spend so much of his money on a present for me. I was scared that he would guess the truth, but Pankaj just said that I was becoming a man at 18 and that it was a special birthday, and that every man should have one formal Kurta Pajama. Thankfully, that explanation was enough for Sanjiv, though I think he always resented me for having something so beautiful, more beautiful than any Kurta he owned."

"It was a very special gift from a very special man," I acknowledged. "You should treasure it always."

"I will," he nodded solemnly as he ran a hand up the other arm to feel the fabric.

"We have a little time before we have to leave. I just spoke with Greg and told him we would be at his house in an hour. We may want to stop at Waitrose on the way and pick up beer and wine there. I have some here, but buying on the way will save us some carrying and it won't deplete my supply," I grinned. "I should probably pick up some food as well, so that we have something to eat for breakfast tomorrow. I'd wait to do it when we come back, but it's Sunday so the shops close early."

"I have never been to a food store. Only the fish market, a few times when no one else could go."

"Really? Well, I'm not sure you were missing all that much. It's a pain in the arse most of the time, to be honest. But one can only handle so much take-away, so it's a necessary evil."

"Take-away?" Ashok asked.

"Restaurant food that you pick up and bring home to eat," I explained.

"I have never had take-away," he said carefully, as if getting familiar with the strange phrasing. "I have never been to a restaurant, except when I had to drive the ladies to restaurants."

"Really?" It was almost impossible to believe. "Well, we'll be having take-away for dinner tonight. I hope you like Thai food."

Ashok furrowed his thick dark brows. "I do not know. I have only had Indian and Emirati food."

"Oh," I couldn't believe how innocent he was, and how completely unfamiliar he would be with most things in London. It would almost be like dealing with an amnesiac. He would have to learn nearly everything. "Thai food is good, but perhaps we can also find something at Waitrose that will take your fancy, just in case it's not to your liking. Is there anything you can't eat? Any allergies? Thai food uses peanuts and peanut oil. Oh, and how about meat?" it was my turn to furrow my brow with worry, thinking we should have asked him all this before.

"I do not want to be any trouble," he said hesitantly.

"You're not being any trouble. Now what is it? What don't you like or can't eat?"

"Well, I'm Hindu, and we generally do not eat beef," he offered with reluctance.

"Of course! How did I not remember that?" I frowned, trying to decide if I needed to call Greg. Then I remembered that Helena preferred chicken and vegetarian dishes, so there would definitely be something for him to eat, along with whatever I picked up for him at Waitrose. "I'm certain Greg will get a couple of things without beef, so I won't bother calling. In the meantime, are you hungry? We shouldn't eat much, but I'm sure I have some crisps or biscuits in the pantry."

He was reluctant to answer, but I could see that I had hit a mark. It had, after all, been hours since we ate breakfast on the plane. I pulled out a bag of crisps and poured a couple of glasses of soda. We sat at the bistro table and looked out the living room windows at the park down below. It was a warm, sunny Sunday afternoon and a couple of neighbors were out with their kids and dogs. This was one of the reasons I loved living where I did - on a day like this the hubbub and rush of the city seemed miles away, even though it was right around the corner.

"I like your flat very much," Ashok said as if he read my thoughts.

"Thanks. I hope you'll like living here."

"I know I will," he said, for once sounding confident.

We left after we were done with our snack, walking back to Gloucester Road station at a leisurely pace. I carried my shoulder bag with Ashok's presents inside, as well as the shoes that went along with his outfit, which he refused to wear outside. In less than ten minutes we were inside Waitrose. Conveniently, the liquor department was near the back entrance, and we immediately filled the trolley with lager and a couple of bottles of Riesling. This wasn't the time to do a full week's worth of shopping, so I walked around the perimeter of the store, picking up some fresh rolls, milk, orange juice, cheese and eggs. Thinking of Ashok and the possibility that he may not care for Thai food, I also picked up some hummus and pita bread, as well as some chicken curry from the ready-made selections. Ashok might have protested, if he were able to stop looking around, wide-eyed, long enough to figure out what I was doing.

"This is an amazing place," he said with awe. "So many different things. How do you choose?"

"Well, mostly I know what I like and I buy that. Sometimes there will be something on sale that will catch my eye, or I'll see an advert on the telly, but mostly I stick to the same things every week. Makes it a little easier."

"Do you cook?" he wondered. "I do not know any men who cook. I have watched women cooking in the kitchens, though. It seems so interesting."

"I cook a little, though I'm no gourmet chef. But have no fear, between my basic cooking, the ready-made foods here and take-away, we will not starve."

"Will you teach me to cook? I would like to cook for you. Right now I can only make coffee and tea and serve, but I am a fast learner," Ashok wondered as we headed towards the checkout.

"If you do learn to cook, it will be for us, not for me. And your days of serving people are over. You certainly are not here to serve me. As for cooking, maybe when Viktor comes back from training camp he can teach you. He's a rather good cook, actually."

Ashok stared as the clerk scanned our purchases until he noticed that I was bagging the items, when he immediately jumped to help. I let him finish as I paid and allowed him to carry the lighter bags while I hefted the beer. We walked out of the market and turned right towards the Tube station entrance.

Our trip to Greg's was uneventful. Ashok looked around the entire time, occasionally making a comment or asking a question, but mostly just soaking it all up. I was trying to remember my first visit to London, but it was so long ago and I had been so young that I really could remember nothing beyond thinking that it was very nice to be in a big city where everyone spoke English. I had been raised from a baby in various European cities where my parents had worked, so London had been quite a novelty in that respect. Obviously Ashok's experience was the exact opposite. Although he spoke English well, it wasn't his native tongue and I imagine the lack of any of the languages with which he was more familiar made him feel all the more overwhelmed. For his sake, I was relieved when we finally reached Greg's flat and rang his doorbell. Although arguably we were still strangers to him, I knew he would feel much more comfortable around us than he did on London streets.

"Who is it?" a girl's voice inquired from the other side of the door.

"Hi, Helena. It's Rick and Ashok," I replied. I knew she was still too short to look out through the peep hole, but I also knew Greg wouldn't have had asked her to answer the door if he wasn't expecting close friends to be on the other side. Helena recognized my voice and turned the deadbolt on the other side before pulling the door open. She saw me first and smiled, but then her gaze fell on Ashok and her jaw literally dropped in wonder.

"Who is it, Lene?" Not hearing his daughter's customary squeals and giggles, Greg came into the hallway to investigate.

"It's just us, but I believe Ashok has rendered your daughter speechless," I said as Ashok and Helena still stood looking at each other, her eyes wide and he wearing a soft smile. The sound of our voices seemed to snap Helena out of her trance.

"Daddy, look at Ashok! He looks like a prince!" She exclaimed, looking to Greg for confirmation.

"He does at that, doesn't he. I'd say a Maharaja."

"What's that?" Helena asked.

"A Maharaja is an Indian king," I supplied.

"I am not a king," Ashok protested.

"Of course not," Helena agreed. "Kings are very old, and you are not, so you must be a prince," she spoke definitively. "Your coat is so pretty. May I touch it?"

"Yes," Ashok agreed, looking slightly overwhelmed by Helena's irrefutable logic. She reached out and put her hand on his sleeve.

"It feels as good as it looks. And look, Daddy, gold thread!"

"It is not real gold," Ashok tried to explain, but Helena wasn't listening.

"If Ashok is a prince, I should be a princess," she announced. "May I put on my Princess Jasmine outfit, Daddy? Please, Daddy, please!" Helena begged.

"Lene, that outfit is too small for you now, remember?"

Helena pouted, but she knew her father was right. "May I show it to him, then?" she bargained. "Would you like to see my princess Jasmine outfit, Ashok?"

"I would like that," Ashok said. It was difficult to say if he was just being polite, but the smile on his face seemed genuine enough. If nothing else, he was enjoying their interaction. "Is it okay?" He looked to Greg for confirmation.

"Are you certain you don't mind?" Greg probed.

"When I was a boy in India I used to play with my younger sisters. I never minded. I liked it," Ashok assured him.

"All right," Greg conceded. "Lene, you may take Ashok down and show him the outfit, but just the one, not everything in that trunk. Uncle Rick and I will get the food ready. Shall I take that?" he pointed to the bags of groceries in Ashok's hand. Ashok handed the bags over even as Helena grabbed his other hand and was pulling him towards the stairs that led down to the garden level of the flat where the bedrooms were located.

"Do you mind storing some of this in your fridge?" I asked, following Greg to the kitchen. "I forgot I had nothing in my flat for breakfast tomorrow, and Waitrose will be closed after dinner."

"Not at all. With Viktor gone, there is plenty of room in the fridge. This is nice," he said, examining the label of the Riesling.

"That's a nice cake," I commented as I placed my food items in the fridge. "Oh, say, while Helena has Ashok occupied, I should put his clothes in the gift bag."

"Good idea. I have it right here. Buying those clothes for him back in Dubai was lucky timing."

"Tell me about it. Had I known, though, I would have bought more, or maybe something more special," I complained. Greg raised his brow in question.

"I'd say having something for him when you didn't even know it was his birthday is good enough."

"It is," I conceded, "but that outfit he's wearing? That was his eighteenth birthday present from Pankaj. I mean, that was really special."

Greg looked at me for a long moment, before placing the beer I brought in the refrigerator.

"Well," he said neutrally when he closed the refrigerator door and looked back at me. "You can always get him something equally special for his twenty-first birthday next year."

I thought for a moment about the implication of his statement. "It's not like that, Greg. I'm not trying to compete."

"Never said you were," Greg agreed easily. We both knew he wasn't being entirely honest, but I decided arguing with him further would only encourage his misconception, so instead I took the gift bag and filled it with Ashok's new clothes. The doorbell rang just as I set the bag aside.

"That'll be Vince and Dré," Greg said, walking to the front door. "Hello, boys. Long time no see," he greeted.

"Not long enough!" I heard Dré griping. "I'm worn out and not looking forward to going back to work tomorrow. You were wise to take the extra week, Diggory," he said as he walked into the kitchen. In his hand he held a wrapped gift. "We picked up something for the kid," he explained when he saw my questioning gaze.

"That's very nice of you," I commended.

"It's his birthday and his first day in a new home," Vince said, following Greg into the kitchen.

"And where is the birthday boy?" Dré asked, looking around.

"Helena took him downstairs to show him her Princess Jasmine outfit."

"Aw, is our new charge a drag queen wannabe?" Dré joked, then paused to consider. "He certainly could pull it off. He has the face for it, and the body."

"Don't project your desires on the boy, Dré. Ashok's no drag queen," Greg laughed in amusement. "But he showed up wearing Indian clothes and my daughter got it into her head that he's a prince, so she had to show him her princess outfit. If she hadn't outgrown it, she'd have put it on."

"It is a beautiful Kurta. I told him he should wear it when I discovered his partner gave it to him for his eighteenth birthday. I thought it would be a nice way to honor Pankaj's memory and make him part of Ashok's life here," I explained. "He's never worn it out in public. In fact," I picked up my shoulder bag and took out Ashok's shoes, "he refused to wear these out on the streets."

"These are lovely," Dré took the shoes from my hand and examined them closely, paying close attention to the peach paisley pattern embroidered on the ivory cloth slippers with a soft leather sole. "Wouldn't mind having a pair myself."

"I'm sure we could find you a pair in Southall, Duck," Vince contributed.

"Oh, that's right. I should take Ashok there. He might enjoy a taste of home in London."

"Speaking of taste, when are we eating?" Vince asked. "I'm starved."

"We can start any time," Greg said. "I picked up some Thai from Churchill's. It's just in the oven, keeping warm. Help me get it to the table boys. Helena, Ashok, time for dinner!" he called out.

"Coming, Daddy!" Helena's high-pitched voice carried up the stairs.

"Oh, Ashok said he doesn't eat beef," I remembered.

"I thought so, him being from India and all. I wasn't sure about pork so I got all chicken and vegetable dishes," Greg informed.

"Good man," I patted him on the back and opened the oven to see that he had already distributed the food into proper serving dishes that were covered with aluminum foil. I picked one up with hot pads and carried it to the set table. Vince did the same. After a couple of trips each, all the food was on the table. Greg and Dré had opened the wines and the youngest in our party had made it back upstairs.

"Wine, Ashok?" Greg asked and the boy nodded.

"Vince and I will have some too," Dré supplied.

"Oh, Look at these! Are these yours, Ashok? They match your beautiful coat!" On her way back from getting juice from the refrigerator, Helena noticed Ashok's shoes.

"Yes, they are," Ashok looked surprised to see the shoes out of my bag.

"Put them on, please!" Helena requested sweetly.

"All right," Ashok seemed happy to accommodate the little girl who clapped her hands when he straightened up again.

"You look so beautiful! Doesn't he look beautiful, Uncle Rick?"

I was surprised she singled me out for confirmation, but I couldn't disagree. "He certainly does look beautiful," I echoed. My eyes locked with Ashok's for a long moment and a shudder rolled through my insides. He was beautiful, but the way I was drawn to him, even though I knew it was wrong for both him and me, was almost magnetic.

"You are very handsome in that outfit," Dré complimented and Vince and Greg agreed, causing Ashok to shift his gaze.

"Thank you," he said, clearly embarrassed. "It was a gift from Pankaj for my eighteenth birthday," he explained. "He had it made especially for me."

"The man had good taste," Dré opined.

"Who's Pankaj?" Helena asked innocently. I saw Ashok's face crumble and his eyes fill with tears. I rushed up to him and pulled him into my arms, cradling his face against my chest.

"What did I do?" It was obvious from her tone that Helena was distressed at having upset Ashok.

"It's okay, Lene, you didn't know. Pankaj was Ashok's partner, but he's not with us anymore. He's gone to heaven. That's why Ashok's here with us now," Greg squatted so he could face Helena when he spoke. "Ashok is just sad because he still misses Pankaj."

Ashok drew in a deep breath and looked up at me. He still looked forlorn, but his eyes and face were dry, his tears unspilled.

"It'll get easier. You just need more time," I whispered.

"I know. Thank you for holding me. I do not mean to be so needy."

"Nonsense. Anyone would feel the same in your place. We're all here for you. Are you all right now?"

He nodded and I let him go. Helena stepped up to him and slipped her hand into his.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "But I am glad you're here now, with us."

"I am glad to be here too," Ashok agreed, looking down at his new friend.

As it turned out, Ashok was a big fan of Thai food, so the chicken curry I picked up at Waitrose never made it to the table. We talked and joked our way through the meal, Helena squirming in her seat towards the end with the excitement of surprising Ashok with his birthday cake. We finally determined we were done and took pity on her, Greg giving me a silent signal to distract Ashok while he and his daughter retrieved the cake and lit the candles. Minutes later they returned, Greg carrying the round cake with flaming candles stuck into the elaborately decorated top. Helena began to sing and the rest of us joined her while Greg placed the cake in front of the stunned Ashok.

"What? How?" the boy couldn't get out an entire sentence.

"Rick told us it was your birthday and we wanted to help you celebrate," Greg explained.

"Make a wish and blow out the candles, little mate," Vince explained, placing his large hand on Ashok's shoulder.

"Make a wish! Make a wish!" Helena chanted, clapping her hands.

"But this is already a wish come true," Ashok said, clearly overwhelmed. "You have all been so good and kind to me."

"Wish for something else, then, Ashok," I encouraged him. "What would you want to happen more than anything, now that you're here in London?"

Ashok looked at me, thought for a moment, then took a deep breath and blew out the candles to Helena's cheers.

"Now you have to open presents," Helena dictated. "Ours first!" She ran into the living room and brought out a bag we hadn't seen before.

"I do not need presents," Ashok protested.

"Nobody needs presents," Dré said. "But we got you some anyway, so you might as well enjoy them."

Reluctantly, Ashok accepted the bag from Helena and reached into it to retrieve a tee shirt and stuffed Paddington Bear. The bear wore a blue coat and held a British flag in his paw. The T-shirt was one found in tourist shops, printed with drawings of famous London trademarks and proclaiming the wearer's love of the city. Both were rather gaudy, and I saw Greg shrug helplessly to indicate these were not his choices. Ashok, however, seemed to love them, and hugged Helena tightly in thanks. "You should not have done this," he said to Greg.

"It was our pleasure," Greg said easily.

"We got you something too," Vince said, standing up to bring over the wrapped package. Inside, Ashok found a London guide book and map, as well as a pocket electronic translator. "The salesman assured us Kannada is one of the included language choices. Not that we think you will need it often, based on how well you speak, but for those less common words."

Ashok was, once again, at a loss for words and managed only to mutter more thanks.

"And this is from me," I said, bringing over the gift bag with the clothes. I felt bad that my gift wasn't as personalized as the others had been. "I had to guess at your size, so the fit may not be perfect, but these should do in a pinch. And of course we'll go out shopping tomorrow."

Ashok took the clothes out piece by piece: a short sleeved polo, a long sleeve cotton crew-neck shirt, a light-weight, short-sleeved V-neck sweater that he could layer with either of the shirts and cotton khakis. I deliberately selected the pieces to coordinate, giving him more versatility for our cooler climate. I was rather proud of myself at the time, but now the gift seemed too generic. Ashok, however, seemed delighted, examining each one carefully.

"These are so wonderful. You bought all of these for me in Dubai? Without even knowing it was my birthday?" He didn't even seem to notice my affirmative nod. "May I try them on?" He asked, looking from me to Greg.

"Please do. The loo's just there," Greg pointed. Ashok picked up the clothes and closed the toilet door behind him.

"Looks like you were right on target there, Diggory," Dré said in a tone that could pass for approving.

"Yes," Greg agreed. "His whole face lit up when he saw the things you selected, especially the polo shirt," he looked at me pointedly and I looked down, remembering that I was wearing a polo myself.

"I wish I had bought something more personal, like you all," I confessed.

"You did buy something personal," Greg disagreed.

"And you bought it for him before you even knew you'd need a present. You're scoring some big points with the kid," Dré opined.

"I don't want to score points. I just want him to feel good about this move and to be happy."

Ashok came out to model his new polo shirt and trousers. The shirt fit well, as did the trousers, though they were a little long.

"We know someone who can hem those properly for you," Dré said. "They're perfect otherwise."

Ashok said nothing as he bent over. He rolled and cuffed the pant legs such that they were very stylish and showed a hint of the dark hair on his ankles.

"Or you could do that," Dré concluded.

"I love them! Everything is perfect!" Ashok retreated back into the loo and came out a few minutes later wearing the sweater over his long sleeved shirt. With his pants still cuffed the way they were, he looked runway ready. We complimented him again and again he disappeared behind closed doors, coming out to model his new T-shirt, making Helena ooh and aah. After the fashion show, I expected him to put his Indian clothes back on, but he chose to wear the new trousers I bought and the polo.

"It is okay for me to wear this home?" he asked, and received all of our assurances that it was. I couldn't help but notice that he chose clothes that were similar to mine.

"So what did Nasir say when you told him we were back in London?" Dré asked. "Was he excited, relieved?"

"Oh," Greg slapped his forehead. "With everything we had to do today, I completely forgot to ring him. Let's do that right now."

"But Daddy, the cake," Helena complained, tugging on his arm as he reached for his mobile.

"Don't worry, princess, we'll have the cake. We just need to make this one call first."

He scrolled through his directory, pressed a button when he reached the right name and put the phone to his ear.

"Hello, Nasir," he said in a moment. "I'm fine. We're all fine and in London. Just landed this morning. Everyone is over at my house for dinner. Here, let me put you on speaker."

He pulled the mobile away from his ear and pressed the speakerphone button before placing the mobile in the center of the table.

"Now we can all hear you, Nasir."

"Hello, everyone," Nasir said. "I am using the speaker as well and Emmett is here with me."

"Hi, guys," Emmett's greeting was warm and friendly.

"Hi, Emmett," Greg said. "I'm here with Helena, Dré, Vince, Rick and, of course, Ashok."

We all said our hellos, nearly simultaneously.

"And you are in London, all of you? Did you have any problems?" Nasir asked nervously.

"No problems at all," Greg reported. "Once we had Ashok's passport, everything went smoothly. Dré obtained his Entry Visa and we left on the night flight out last night."

"No problems on this side, either," Dré added.

"Ashok, you had no problems getting out of the house?" Nasir asked the boy directly.

"No, Mr. Nasir. I left after everyone was asleep. I had to turn off the power to the gate, but Mr. Vince opened it so I could get through."

"Lucky we had him with us. Vince saved the night," I threw in.

"Thank you so much, Vince and Dré. Thank you to all of you! How do you like London, Ashok?"

"I like it very much. We have been on trains, very nice trains, and we have walked through beautiful neighborhoods filled with white houses. Mr. Rick took me to the supermarket and, Mr. Nasir, it is so green here!" Ashok gushed. Dré shook his head with amusement.

"We haven't seen much of London yet," I explained. "When we got home we slept for a while. Tomorrow will be our first full day out."

"Ashok, I know you will love London. You will finally be able to be yourself. You do not have to hide."

"I already love it, Mr. Nasir, the city and all my new friends," Ashok grew shy again as he looked around the table. "They bought me a cake and birthday presents," he revealed.

"Is it your birthday, Ashok?" Emmett asked.

"It is. I am twenty today."

"Well, happy birthday!" Emmett said enthusiastically.

"Yes, happy birthday!" Nasir echoed. "We wish to buy you presents as well. Perhaps Greg can take you shopping tomorrow?"

"I was already planning to take him shopping," I said.

"It is not necessary," Ashok tried to protest.

"I learned a long time ago that it's best not to waste breath arguing with them," Vince said, laying a calming hand on top of the boy's. "They'll just do what they want anyway. Let them," he smiled and winked. "And you do need more clothes here, when the weather changes as much as it does. Might as well accept that."

"All right," Ashok nodded, making me a little jealous of the way he just accepted Vince at his word. Then I remembered that all of us, including Dré, reacted to Vince exactly the same way, which made me feel a lot better.

"We won't keep you on the phone any longer," Greg spoke to Emmett and Nasir. "We just wanted to let you know that we were all safe and sound, and back on English soil."

"We are most pleased and relieved to hear that, Greg," Nasir said. "Thank you all, again, for doing what Emmett and I could not. And Ashok, if you need anything at all, do not hesitate to call us. Greg, if you need more money..."

"I think we're all right for now, Nasir." Greg interrupted. "I need to total up the cost of the trip, but I imagine there is plenty left over. And you're both more than welcome to fly out and visit any time you'd like."

"We will as soon as Nasi's immigration status is settled," Emmett threw in. "We're looking forward to seeing you again, all of you."

"Thank you again, Mr. Nasir." Ashok spoke, leaning into the center of the table.

"Remember, call if you need anything," Nasir reminded again. "Goodbye. Maasalaamah!"

Much as with the hellos, we all said our goodbyes at the same time, and watched Greg end the call.

"Now can we cut the cake?" Helena asked loudly and we all laughed.

"Yes, Princess. I think this would be the perfect time for cake," Greg agreed.

Helena insisted that Ashok cut the cake and we all had a piece. By the time we were done it was getting late, and since everyone but Ashok and I had to get up early the next day, we decided to call it an evening. I left the remaining beer and wine with Greg and only carried back the groceries while Ashok carried his presents. We walked to the Tube with Vince and Dré and said goodbye to them right before we got off at Gloucester Road station. It wasn't a long walk to my flat, but despite our nap Ashok and I were both getting tired and were glad when we finally made it. He helped me put the food away and then I made room in the closet and drawers so he could put away his things. Then there was nothing left to do but go to sleep.

I took the spare sheets, pillow and blanket from the hallway closet and pulled out the sleeper.

"Rick?" Ashok asked as he watched me work.

"Yeah?"

"Your bed is very large. It would be easy to sleep in it together."

I sighed, fighting internally for the strength to resist the temptation. It would have been very easy to sleep together, but that would have made it very easy for us to do more than sleep, and that would have been a huge betrayal not just of his trust, but the trust Greg and the other guys placed in me when we decided that Ashok should stay in my flat.

"I appreciate that, Ashok, but I'll be fine out here for now. I'm pretty used to sleeping alone."

I cringed mentally at the excuse which, while true, certainly did not reflect my preferences. I slept alone out of necessity, not desire. Given a choice, I would have spent every night of my life in bed with H., but that comfort had been denied me. Sleeping with Ashok earlier had been lovely, but it wouldn't do for me to get used to it, knowing how much it would hurt later, when that too was taken away.

"Then it is I who should sleep here," he insisted. "You should not have to give up your bed for me."

"I don't have to, but I want to. Please, it is what I do with all my guests."

This made him finally give up. We said our good nights and he went into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. I turned out the lights and crawled into bed, bemoaning the fact that somehow making the bed and arguing over who should sleep well gave me a second wind, which meant I was no longer tired. It was then that my mobile rang with H.'s familiar ring. I froze, desperately wanting to answer, but knowing it was a horrible idea. I managed to resist, and when the phone beeped to let me know I had a message, I immediately grabbed and deleted it without listening. I knew if I had not done that, the temptation to listen and maybe even to ring him back would have been too great. I wondered where he was and what he was doing, how had he found opportunity to call me at such an unusual time? He'd mentioned meeting me at Grimmauld house for the night, but I had been pretty clear in my refusal, and I doubted he would have proceeded with his plan without knowing for certain that I would show up. More than likely he'd just snuck away from his family to check up on me, to see if I'd returned to England yet. If so, I was glad I didn't answer. He'd made it abundantly clear he wanted nothing to do with me if I'd decided to have Ashok stay with me, and if that was the case, then he had no right to inquire or care as to my whereabouts. And still a part of me wondered if he had changed his mind and was ringing to apologize. My mind filled with speculations, I tossed and turned far into the night.