Page 62 of In at the Deep End

Matt was smiling. “You’re staring.”

Owen blinked.

“Sorry.” He returned Matt’s smile. “I was trying to work out how someone who spends his life studying has better arms than I do.”

It wasn’t entirely untrue.

Matt laughed. “The result of years in the uni gym.”

“Clearly.”

He looked Owen up and down. “You’re not doing too badly yourself.”

Owen’s chest tightened.

He cleared his throat. “Flattery before coffee. That’s a dangerous tactic.” He went about the practical task of setting up the coffee machine.

Matt leaned against the fridge. “Sorry I was late. I put a few hours into my dissertation this morning. That way I don’t spend the rest of the day feeling guilty.”

“How’s it coming?”

“Pretty well. As long as I don’t lose sight of the question I’m actually trying to answer.”

Owen glanced over his shoulder. “Which is?”

“How did British films between 1945 and 1980 teach audiences what it meant to be a man?”

That caught Owen’s attention. “That’s a bigger question than I was expecting.”

Matt grinned. “My supervisor said exactly the same thing.”

Owen filled the water reservoir. “So where do you even begin with something like that?”

“I ignore the obvious stuff. I’m not interested in action heroes or James Bond. I’m more interested in ordinary men, and the expectations films put on them.”

“Such as?”

“Stoicism, for one. Why post-war men rarely expressed emotion. The whole stiff upper lip thing. Duty before feelings. How grief was hidden instead of shared.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “Fathers and sons. Class. What counted as strength. There’s even a chapter on sexuality.”

Owen looked up. “Oh?”

Matt nodded. “How queer men were invisible for decades. How men who didn’t fit the mould were coded as different, or dangerous, or tragic. Then how that slowly changed, and homosexuality became something films could actually talk about.”

Owen was quiet for a moment. “I’d like to read that.”

Matt blinked. “Really?”

“Very much.” He glanced at the tin. “Okay, enough talk. There are flapjacks shouting at me to eat them.”

Matt grinned as he popped the lid. “Then don’t let me stop you.”

By the time they wandered into the lounge, Owen had eaten two.

Matt surveyed the room. “You’ve been busy. Most of the boxes are gone.”

“I got all the DVDs on the shelves, then I made a start on the books.” He snorted. “Only, I think they multiply like rabbits whenever I turn my back.” He gave a weary huff. “I swear I unpack one box and two more appear to take its place.”

“Does that mean I’m working in the garden today?” Matt’s mouth curved into a smile. “You know, what you actually employed me to do?”