"I discover myself on the verge
of a usual mistake."

-Walt Whitman

"Fancy a cup of tea as well, Mr Webb?" The dim candlelight was reflected in his cup of jasmine tea. Alan sipped from it, waiting for an answer. "How silly of me, you probably prefer a fresh cup of milk."

The baby's assenting chatter was as intelligible as Enigma-encoded messages.

Alan lifted Rob and walked to the kitchen. Much to his delight, the neighbours often let him babysit. He found it incredibly interesting to see how the baby recognised words and tried to imitate them, just like his machine. In the process, he felt that his desire to have children had somewhat been fulfilled after all. To what extent that had ever been possible. The Webbs even called him Uncle Alan.

He waited for the milk to cool, with Rob balancing on his arm. He felt heavier than usual. "Someone's had a growth spurt." Alan ruffled his hand through the hefty bunch of hair, followed by amused squeals from the baby.

He poured the milk into a bottle and took Rob to the seat, the tiny hands clasping the cup. His dark eyes fell shut drinking the warm milk and did not even open when there was a knock on the door.

"That will be your father." Alan carefully stood up in an attempt not to disturb the baby while drinking.

Roy Webb stood with a big smile and a package in his hands at the bottom of the stairs. His tuxedo betrayed that he came from the opera.

Alan handed over the baby. "He was a little angel, as always."

"Thank you so much, Alan." The neighbour stroked his finger over the child's nose. "Remind me, what was your surname again?"

"Turing."

There was a twinkle in the man's eyes. "It just occurred to me from where I recognise you. We were at Sherborne together, you were the one boy who always hung out with Christopher, even I who was a year below you knew him, such a radiant boy." The man lowered his gaze. "Until..."

The words hung between them. Until he died. Until "that one boy Christopher hung out with" was the only one crying on the school floors only to be forgotten again.

Roy quickly changed the subject and pulled the brown packet from under his arm. "This was on your doorstep."

"Surely not another medal from King," he grumbled, the door closing right in front of the frowning face of his neighbour.

From the moment Alan brought the box to his face to inspect it, he knew who its sender was. The smell of cheap aftershave invaded his nose.

He threw the package on the coffee table and plonked himself down with his arms crossed on the spot where Rob had just sat. "Rather a gift of deceit."

But he wouldn't be Alan, should his curiosity not win from his enmity.

He pulled the string of the box and opened it. Perhaps Arnold wanted to make amends by giving him the money back. He compulsively suppressed the spark of hope he felt.

Inside, he found only a tube, with a piece of paper inside. Had he written a reply to his emotional letter? His eyes flew over the strip of paper.

Copwi scp y, o lhtb ealA Amtae eP,nallMnehcragl iloan eeelaeIen vr t lna x mey

He glanced at his jasmine tea to make sure there was no alcohol in it. His frowning face soon cleared up. It was an encrypted message. Intrigued, Alan brought the paper closer to the candle on the table. What did it mean?

Unless Arnold was some deranged genius, it couldn't be more difficult than Enigma, that much was certain. Nor did he seem the type to know much about polyalphabetic substitution. Every possible encryption technique he knew raced through his mind.

Besides, I was also outstanding in Classical languages. Arnold's words spooked his head. Alan thought back to his Latin classes, where he had briefly learned about classical cryptography. It surely couldn't be a Caesar rotation, the capitals were in a too weird position. Maybe something Greek?

"Skytale," he whispered to no one in particular. He jumped up and held out the tube that had contained the message in front of him.

He wrapped the strip of text around the stick, as the Ancient Greek cypher technique dictated. He could now easily read the words along its length.

Come to the place where it all began. Please, I can explain. All my love, Mary Ann

Alan grimaced. It wasn't fair, he couldn't resist cracking codes. Arnold apparently easily took advantage of that. The place where it all began.

Less than a second later, he had already pulled his coat off the hook.

Alan stared at the sign hanging outside the restaurant window. It seemed to laugh in his face. Closed. There seemed to be no light inside.

Had he misunderstood the message? Alan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He should have known it was a bad idea. But he liked bad ideas.

Above his head, the scraping hinge of the window could be heard. Arnold's head briefly appeared in his field of vision, only to disappear back as quickly as it came.

Alan had not expected to be so overcome with emotion just by seeing his face. Memories of the previous day bubbled up again.

Still putting his coat on, Arnold appeared through the restaurant door. He had a crooked smile on his face, yet he seemed relieved. As if the boy had not expected him to show up.

"How did you like my riddle, Prof?"

"It wasn't much of a challenge," he said flatly. From the corner of his eye, he saw Arnold raise an eyebrow. "All right, I admit it was clever. Not the riddle, but the fact that you knew I wouldn't be able to resist."

"Even after a few days, I know you inside and out." Arnold put his hand on his.

Alan abruptly withdrew his hand and clasped the handlebars of his bike until his knuckles turned white.

"Right." Arnold pressed his lips in a thin line, averting his gaze. "The thing is, my father is sick and we can't afford the medicine. That's also the only reason I was allowed back into the apartment and found your letter. He hates to be dependent on me."

"Did you use my money for medicine?"

Arnold clicked his tongue. "No, I bought a suit with it." Alan furrowed his eyebrows. "For the job interview. I have a job in the print shop now. That way I can pay you back as soon as possible." A hopeful smile appeared on the boy's face.

Alan shook his head. "First of all, you don't have to pay me back." He raised his voice to drown out Arnold's sputtering. "Secondly, you should have just asked me for the money instead of taking it on the sly."

"I had hoped you wouldn't notice, then put it back, you have so much and-"

Alan started pushing his bike in motion. "You're too proud, Mary-Ann, it doesn't become you."

Arnold came running up behind him. "Do you know why they call me that?"

"Because of the earring?" His voice sounded irritated to his own ears, although Alan secretly found it cute how Arnold's hand crawled to the golden feather in his ear.

"No, I mean, yes that too." He took a big gulp of oxygen. "It's a name for an understanding, intelligent and sensitive person, definitely not proud at all. You are just naive, you don't know what it is to be really affected by the war crisis. To be ashamed of who you are."

Alan came to an abrupt halt and turned to face him. "You're right, I don't know what that's like. But am I naive for not being ashamed of who I am, of what I feel?"

The boy was silent for a long time, baffled by the words. When he spoke, his voice was raspy. "Even my own father doesn't accept me, why should other people?"

"It's not about what they think." Alan made a wide hand gesture towards the pedestrians in the dark street. "People fear what they don't know. You can choose to show yourself to the world at your peril, to show that we exist, to make a change. If that makes me naive, gladly. Or you can keep it to yourself, as long as you are not ashamed of it. One day it will get better, but until then, to hell with the rest of the world."

Arnold shook his head frantically. "And end up alone like you?"

"We could be alone together." The words rolled over his lips. Shocked by the force with which he said them, he averted his gaze.

"A change," Arnold repeated, weighing the words.

"I don't mean that you should put yourself in danger," Alan blurted, suddenly afraid he misunderstood him. "I just want you to know that you shouldn't be embarrassed when you are with me. Not because you need money, or anything."

"I'm aware." A guilty look passed over Arnold's face.

A hand gently turned Alan's chin. He only became aware of the kiss when Arnold was already pulling back, cheeks flushed.

"Sorry." Arnold's eyes shot in all directions and lingered at the window above the restaurant. "I've never kissed anyone publicly before. Even if it's only in a poorly lit street." Something halfway between a laugh and a sigh escaped his throat. "That was scary, but I do like that rebellious side of you."

"Do you promise to always tell the truth from now on? No more secrets."

"Promise.'

Alan held out a hand, which was gratefully accepted.

"The clouds cleared for once." Arnold spun theatrically around a lamppost, his gaze fixed on the light. "How beautiful the stars are tonight, maybe we can go to the park to have an even better look at them?"

Alan kept his eyes fixed tightly on the bumpy road. "The stars have died."

The boy stopped his swaying to look at him. "What?"

Alan opened his mouth, but closed it again when his house came into view. The dim light from the candles could not be seen through the curtains. Something was wrong.

Alarmed, he quickened his stride and threw his bike against the white facade.

"Hey wait, did I say something wrong?" Arnold's voice died away when he too saw the open porch door.

"There's been a break-in."