Second Wind

By A.L. Lester

What do a shy French-horn-playing accountant and a single dad trans trumpet player have in common other than both being members of the community orchestra at Theatr Fach in the little town of Llanbaruc?

Gethin’s been more or less hiding from life since his marriage broke up a couple of years ago. He joined the orchestra because his sister told him he needed a hobby rather than sitting at home brooding about his divorce.

Martin is careful who he dates because of his gender and his teenage daughter. He came to Llanbaruc as a stage manager for the Theatr Fach twelve years ago. He has a good set of friends here. Shannon’s a good kid. They’re a team.

Martin and Gethin hit it off. Will their mutual baggage prove too much to sustain a relationship?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Nov 19, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685503390

A.L. Lester

Writer of queer, paranormal, historical, romantic suspense. Lives in the South West of England with Mr AL and two children. Likes gardening but doesn't really have time or energy. Not musical. Doesn't much like telly. Non-binary. Chronically disabled. Has tedious fits.Instagram, tiktok, fb: CogentHippoMastodon: @[e-mail]

Book preview

Chapter 1

Martin

Shannon! Martin yelled up the stairs. If you want a lift, I’m leaving in ten minutes!

Okay! Okay! I’m coming! Don’t yell at me! Shannon shouted back, appearing on the landing wielding a hairbrush and her school bag. Is it raining?

Martin usually only drove to work in the morning when it was hacking down.

Not this morning. I’ve got to run some errands so I’m taking the car for that. Do you want some toast?

If I can eat it in the car.

Martin shot her a look. Eating in the car was forbidden. He hated cleaning the car, he couldn’t afford to get it valeted on a regular basis, and the solution was to not fill it up with crap in the first place.

Fine, fine! I’ll be down in a minute. I just need to do my hair.

Her hair was another point of contention, but this morning it seemed to be reasonably normal-looking rather than something that gave him a seventies punk vibe.

He sighed, shoving bread into the toaster. It wasn’t that she was a bad kid, quite the opposite. It was just that he was on his own with her and sometimes felt he had no clue what he was doing. He seemed to have turned his back for a moment about three years ago and she’d gone from a sweet, biddable pre-teen to someone who had firm ideas about life that didn’t necessarily fit with his own. He’d thought he was quite savvy and clued up about culture, art, music. He worked in a theatre for goodness sake! But…he knew nothing apparently. Nothing at all.

The toaster popped, making him jump. He’d been staring into space. Pull yourself together, Martin. It’s orchestra tonight and Shannon’s going to Lee for the weekend and you can spend two days in bed if you want to. Just get through today.

He was always like this in the summer. The theatre was busiest then, the arts centre and the cafe bringing lots of Llanbaruc’s tourists to their doors for shows. They always tried to put on something that ran most of the summer as well as fitting in touring shows. The last couple of weeks of June were a flurry of rehearsals and getting it all in place in time for the season to kick off at the beginning of July and run through August and early September.

This year they were running a kid’s book that had been adapted for the stage. It should bring holidaying families in through the doors, along with the usual workshops and lectures and they had a half a dozen visiting performances as well. Martin was knackered just thinking about it at this point; but he always was at this juncture in rehearsals. Once they got the next couple of weeks out of the way and were into the actual performance routine, he’d be fine.

Today though…he had to finish painting the scenery for a Victorian alleyway and work out how he was going to move the flats in and out for the scene changes. A stage-manager’s life in a small theatre was full of variety. He grinned to himself. If he’d carried on with his career in Birmingham after he’d had Shannon, he’d have been in a big place by now. Somewhere he could just wave a languid hand and have minions run around and do the actual work.

He smirked to himself as he buttered the toast. He preferred it here. Theatr Fach was tiny, a little theatre for a little seaside town. But he loved it and wouldn’t change what he did for the world.

Shannon slouched in behind him. He could hear her slouching, even before he turned round and wafted a piece of toast at her.

Here you go, love. Get that down you and we’ll be off. He started scarfing his own. Nearly the end of term now.

She poured herself some juice from the fridge. Yeah, I’m knackered. I’m going to get the train tonight straight after school over to Dad’s if that’s okay? He said he’d pick me up from New Street.

They’d begun doing that last summer—she’d pointed out that she was nearly fourteen and it was stupid for them both to spend all weekend driving to and fro when they could put her on the train and meet her. Martin had felt a bit like he was pushing her out of the nest, but it had been a relief not to have to drive, specially as he often had to work at weekends. Lee still sometimes came and picked her up, or Martin went over to get her on a Sunday night. She enjoyed the train though, and it meant he was off the hook.

Sure, he said. Good plan. Do you want me to pick you up on Sunday?

No, it’s fine. I’ll just get the train back. I’ll get the half past four. I can get my homework done this evening on the way there.

Make sure you do, Martin smiled at her. You know Dad won’t remind you.

Lee had upped his game with her over the last few years and had been really supportive when Martin finally decided to transition. They were