My Home From Home (ManxMan)

Chapter 2

"The police are here." Whispered James urgently as Henry's deep brown eyes widened in fear; his alabaster cheeks seeming to flush even paler than physically possible. "Don't just stand there, get your coat on! We have to go!"

"Y-you go on..." Henry said softly glancing conflictedly between a confused looking Pietro and his two very frantic mates.

"For God's sake, Henry... What part of 'police' do you not bloody understand?!" Charles threw his hands up in disbelief.

"You both go on, we'll make our way out!" Assured Henry before turning back to Pietro, giving the taller man's forearms a squeeze as he cocked a perplexed brow down at the raven haired man.

"Che succede?" (What Happened?) Pietro glanced around in confusion at the ruckus around them.

"The police are here. Erm... We really out to get out of here." Henry felt his heart sink in his chest as he said that phrase out loud; through his twenty seven years of life he'd acted upon his urges that were deemed by society at the time as being 'deviant' or 'perversions'. But for the first time Henry felt something he'd never before felt in any of these underground pubs,  secret corners in restaurants, nor in those stolen moments of carnal pleasure behind closed doors; Henry Aldringham felt... Fear.

"Porca miseria, (Bloody hell) I forgot it's still illegal here." Pietro cursed, running his hand anxiously over his face; homosexual activity had been legal in the Kingdom of Italy since 1890 so naturally it was odd for him to comprehend how in 1920 the British were so tragically behind. "You save yourself, I have to go get my coat."

"I-I'll wait for you..." Henry stammered, partially numb from the surreality of the situation.

"Don't be ridiculous! I have diplomatic immunity, you could go to prison for life, if that." Pietro scolded seriously, his tone entirely devoid of the prior flirtatiousness that his banter had carried. Though the 'Buggery' laws prior to the 1885 Criminal Act required attested witnesses to physical sodomy between two men in order for someone to be charged, the new 1885 Criminal Act which was in effect by 1920 meant that being caught at a gay establishment such as this would have been grounds enough for prison time, forced chemical castration, or hard labour. Though Pietro's job as a Italian Embassy attaché gave him a degree of diplomatic immunity, Henry would feel the full blow of the law coming down on his neck should he be caught; and of this Pietro was all too aware.

"Call it English hospitality, if you will. You're a guest in our country and I dare say it's my duty to ensure you're not apprehended by the police. So make haste, get your coat, and meet me behind the bar." Henry mustered a smile in hopes of hiding the fear that'd washed over his English Channel blue eyes. "Well go on, then! We haven't exactly got all night!" He teased again, as Pietro simply smiled and shook his head in amusement in his eyes before he rushed off towards the coatroom. 

Henry let out a huff as time seemed to go faster than usual; the mind-numbing void left by the now silent gramophone paired with the distant shouting and instructing of the police officers in the front area of the pub whilst people towards the back were sneaking off through the secret passageways that were made known to patrons should the police come knocking on the pub's door.

It wasn't long later before Pietro returned with his overcoat, a tasteful black coat perfectly tailored with a fur lining on the collars. He slipped it on as Henry extended his hand towards the handsome man, pulling him along towards the bar and hopping over it to search for an inconspicuous loose board on the wall's wood panelling between two liquor cabinets hid a secret door from plain sight.

Henry prised the door open just enough for him and Pietro to slip through; hastily closing the door behind him as the last ray of dim light from the pub dwindled away. He let out a huff as he pulled the door shut, trapped in the bleak darkness of whatever cramped narrow passage they were stuck in.