Title: Waves and Storms
Fandom: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
Length: 1150
Rating: PG
Content notes: brief mention of homophobia
Author note: part of You Can Be Had: Extras, and takes place between Help and Comfort and A Strange Party; thanks to owl_by_night for her encouragement with this one.
Summary: Grant finds the CD on a market stall, on the way back from his Saturday morning shift at the care home.



Grant finds the CD on a market stall, on the way back from his Saturday morning shift at the care home. The title catches his eye: Angel Tiger. It's from Christopher Smart’s poem about his cat Jeoffry – they’d read it at Grant’s school and bits of it stuck in his head even though he didn’t understand them: “For he is of the tribe of Tiger. For the Cherub Cat is a term of the Angel Tiger.” He’d sung the treble solo when the school choir did Rejoice in the Lamb. His mother sat tight-lipped through the performance, and afterwards wrote a letter of complaint to the Head. It was years before the penny dropped for Grant about Benjamin Britten and Peter Pears; in retrospect he’s surprised his mother knew about them. No point in wondering how she did.

Buying the CD’s an extravagance, but almost everything is at the moment. He’s fighting the Mission for his final month’s salary in lieu of notice and patching together a living from grisly cleaning jobs. If Bell hadn’t offered him a room in her house, he’d be struggling even more than he already is. Jonathan would help out if Grant let him. Jonathan doesn’t understand why Grant’s not ready to move in with him. They fight about it, not every time but too often. It’s exhausting.

Not being able to talk to Bell about it makes it worse. The one time he tried, she got so angry with Jonathan that Grant found himself defending him, which didn’t help anything. Talking to Bell was like talking to the part of himself that didn’t trust Jonathan yet, the part that wondered if he was still trying to prove something to Art. And if that was true, if Grant had smashed up his old life for nothing… He couldn’t let himself think about that.

His phone buzzes and there’s a text from Jonathan. I’m sorry. I love you. I miss you. J x. They haven’t spoken for a couple of days: the last row was a bad one. Grant’s throat is tight. He’s not going to cry in the street. He’s going to go back to Bell’s house, put the kettle on, listen to the CD and then work out what he wants to say to Jonathan. Right now he doesn’t know if it’s Same here or I can’t go on like this. Maybe it’s both.

Bell’s in the kitchen, making soup. It smells good, and he realizes he hasn’t eaten today. He’d overslept after another broken night, and had to rush out of the door so he wouldn’t be late to work.

“Sit down, Colley, you look all in,” Bell says. “It’s nearly ready.”

She’s bought the thick oatcakes he likes, and there’s cheese. His stomach clenches and he feels faint.

“I didn’t have breakfast,” he says. It comes out too loud, too sharp.

Bell swears under her breath. “So eat something.”

He breaks off a corner of oatcake, makes himself eat slowly.

“I’m worried about you,” she says.

What is there to say to that? “Yeah, me too.”

“Oh, Colley.” She doesn’t touch him, thank goodness; even the words are almost too much.

“I bought a CD,” he says, to head her off. “Can I put it on?”

Her face lights up when she sees the cover.

“June Tabor! Yes, please.”

The soup helps. He was cold as well as hungry and didn’t know it. Well, it is February, you idiot. Gradually he thaws, and the lump of misery in his chest grows smaller. He missed the first couple of songs, have to go back and try again with those, but now he starts listening properly.

…There are waves, sudden waves over me
There are days when the way that I want is not to be
And I am lost.

Too close to home: it catches him under the heart. The singer’s deep voice is spellbinding, passionate and strong, moving between a hard edge and unexpected lightness. He can’t get up to turn the music off.

… There are storms, sudden storms, when the form of life is lost
There are waves, sudden waves over me
And it’s chance, not design, makes the line my life has crossed
And I may drown

He used to believe in design, in a universe that made sense. These days he’s not so sure.

Bell puts her hand on his, gently, and lets him weep. She doesn’t ask him what’s wrong, or blame Jonathan. She just waits with him, a comforting presence, till he’s all cried out.

The song’s still going but the mood has changed: There are bays, peaceful bays in the harbour of your hand/ Where the waves, sudden waves cannot reach. Grant’s not sure how that metaphor’s supposed to work, but the singer’s yearning is so strong he can almost touch it: There are days when the ways of your words can make dry land/ And I can stay.

He wants that with Jonathan, wants so much to believe it’s possible, though right now it seems out of reach. He scrubs at his face with a handkerchief and Bell gets up to clear the soup-plates.

“Do you want to talk about it?” It’s a careful question, not pressuring him. She knows there’s a reason they haven’t been talking about this.

“Soon,” he says, and means it. “Not just yet. But thank you.”

She gives him a quick hug and kisses the top of his head.

“OK, whenever you like,” she says, and turns away to the sink.

Grant finishes his oatcake and sits for a while letting the waves of sound wash over him. He takes out his phone and texts Jonathan: Miss you too. Can I come over? G x

Yes. Please. Now? Jonathan texts back.

On my way, Grant sends him, and gets back a THANK YOU a split second later.

“I’m going over to Jonathan’s,” he says, getting up from the table.

“OK,” Bell says, and for a moment he thinks that’ll be all. Then, with an effort, she says “I hope it goes well.”

“Thank you,” he says and hugs her hard.

“OK if I go on listening to your CD?”

“Sure,” he says. “See you later.”

He’s not planning to stay the night at Jonathan’s, though he’s not working tomorrow, so maybe… Cross that bridge when you come to it.

Walking from the Tube to Jonathan’s flat, he stops for a while in front of the Menier Chocolate Factory. Not a factory any more, and nothing to do with chocolate; it’s a theatre now, with posters up for Funny Girl. He knows it’s partly fear of how things will go with Jonathan today that keeps him standing here, staring at the notice saying Help Wanted. But working in a theatre might be fun, more fun than his cleaning jobs anyway. The door’s open. He takes a deep breath and goes in.


***

Title from Psalm 42 verse 7, "All thy waves and storms are gone over me".

June Tabor's recording of Sudden Waves is here.