The Hit List

THE HIT LIST

…Jamie headed off down the hall, aware of Robert behind him. In fact, he was more aware of that than he’d ever been of anything in his entire life. God help him, what was going to happen now? Once in the kitchen, Jamie continued to keep silent. He didn’t even look at Robert. After putting the kettle on, he reached out to open the fridge for the milk, but Robert was there before him. He had no idea which one of them grabbed the other first, but the next thing Jamie knew he was struggling against Robert, mouth pressed hard to his, hands tugging at Robert’s hair. Almost as if they were fighting, though they weren’t. It couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds. Jamie heard the other man groan and, as if he’d been struck, he shoved Robert away from him. Hard enough so his back slammed against the fridge door and he put out his hands to steady himself. “Please. Keep away from me,” Jamie panted. “Don’t touch me again.” Robert’s lip was bleeding from where Jamie must have bitten it. He could taste Robert’s blood in his own mouth, the savor of it heavy on his tongue. Robert looked at Jamie and wiped his lips, the back of his hand drawing a thin smear of blood across his fingers. “Then don’t look at me like that again,” he said, “if you don’t want to be touched.” With that, he turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Jamie to the company of his own thoughts. All the rest of that day and long into the night, Jamie could feel the shape and the warmth of Robert in his arms. And the Limewater fete and all the troubles with Dad seemed a thousand lifetimes away…

ALSO BY ANNE B ROOKE The Delaneys And Me Give And Take A Stranger’s Touch

THE HIT LIST BY ANNE BROOKE

AMBER Q UILL PRESS, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com

THE HIT LIST AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2010 by Anne Brooke ISBN 978-1-60272-652-9 Cover Art © 2010 Trace Edward Zaber

Layout and Formatting provided by: Elemental Alchemy

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Dedication For my husband, now and always Acknowledgments With grateful thanks to all at Amber Quill Press

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CHAPTER 1 If Jamie Chadwick had thought waiting at the crowded bar of The King’s Head, Limewater, for the landlord to finish pulling his pint of Suffolk’s best bitter would be the one place he could be safe from his family, for a few moments at least, he was soon to be proved wrong. “Father okay then, Jamie?” “What?” Jamie jumped as Michael pushed the foaming glass under his nose and stepped back to admire his handiwork. The landlord repeated the question. “Fine, thanks,” Jamie murmured. “Safely locked up at home where he can’t cause any more trouble.” This wasn’t quite true, of course. His father could always cause trouble, but it was a good phrase to use when he simply didn’t 1

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know how to discuss it. “Good, good. Glad to hear it,” Michael said. “So the doctor put everything to rights, did he?” Choking on that first glorious gulp of bitter, he wondered if anything in this village was ever secret. If someone sneezed twice at breakfast, they’d have him in the obituary column of the local paper by supper. “Sure. He just had a funny five minutes, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.” Or that was what the doctor had said. Michael pursed his lips and nodded as Jamie scrabbled in his pockets for some change. “So you still had time to sort out the problems you were having with that London hotel, did you?” Michael went on. Jamie stared at him. “How on earth did you know about that?” His so-called glittering career as a conference organizer at the tail end of the twentieth century meant doing business with hotels that made even Fawlty Towers look efficient…and today had been no exception. After dealing with Dad, it had been anyone’s guess whether Jamie would be able to salvage the disaster the hotel had been about to make. This time he’d survived. His father, too. But Jamie hadn’t realized that people in the village had been taking notes. “The grapevine. As usual.” Michael shrugged as he ran an expert eye over the coins Jamie was handing him. “Sure, I got there in time. In the end, the whole day went like a dream. Cheers.” He took another gulp of his pint and felt the warm liquid wash away the memories of the long drive home. “Good, good. Well, better let you go.” Michael smiled. “I’m sure your young lady will be along soon. If that’s what you’re here for?” 2

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A joke, of course, but Jamie didn’t much feel like laughing. Before he could think of a witty reply, Michael strolled off to serve some of the less patient locals and Jamie pushed his way toward an empty table in the corner. The landlord had been wrong with his last comment in more ways than one. Tonight he was waiting for an old friend to turn up—David Fenchurch. Jamie had no idea what David was doing now. He hadn’t seen him for four years, not since university days. He’d always been one for the girls, though; a different one every night, from what Jamie remembered. Not like himself. As Michael had not so subtly reminded him. Really, he had to get a girlfriend, if only for the sake of appearances. And soon. Though Limewater wasn’t London and women were few and far between. He was just wondering if David was going to put in an appearance at all or whether the sight of the A12 in all its long, grey glory had put him off when a shrill cry echoed round the horse brasses and old beamed ceiling of the pub, driving all thoughts out of Jamie’s mind and into the smoky air. “Jamie? Jamie Chadwick!” At the sound of his name shouted in a voice just on the wrong side of camp, Jamie swung round. As did everyone else. All conversation then stopped, for the figure standing at the door was dressed in an orange shirt, purple checked trousers, an emerald dog-tooth jacket and a trilby hat. But this couldn’t be David, could it? No way. David had never in his life shown any signs of secret Boy George tendencies. So how on earth did this stranger know his name? And what was he doing here? Before he could shake off his surprise, the vision of color uttered another cry of joy, bounded around the teenagers leaning transfixed against the bar, seized Jamie in a dramatic embrace and 3

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planted a kiss on his cheek. “David?” he said, as his worst fears were proved true. “David Fenchurch?” *

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“So, what do you think of my new look then, Jamie?” Really, he had no idea what to say, so he said nothing. Instead, he set the glasses onto the table as David rose from his chair and gave a quick twirl, deaf to the stifled snorts from the nearby teenagers. At least Jamie hoped that was what they were rather than the discontented mumblings of Limewater’s young wolves about to pick on somebody different. This was the country after all. What was his friend trying to do? Get them all killed? “Sit down, David,” he said, pushing him back into the chair. “What the hell are you wearing anyway? Some sort of fancy dress?” “Don’t you like it?” Obeying the instruction, David patted him on the knee, leaned over the table and went on in a stage whisper, “Anyhow, I need to tell you something. Guess what? I’m gay.” The pub went silent, drinking in this exciting new gossip. Either that or they were planning a session of impromptu gaybashing. Not being the most well built of men, Jamie hoped it was the first option, as fighting for survival certainly wasn’t his choice of light entertainment. “Keep your voice down,” he said, glancing around like an oldtime spy and promising himself that he would never again agree to meet a college friend he hadn’t seen in four years. “What do you mean, gay?” “You want me to explain it?” 4

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“No,” Jamie said, wondering what had happened to David since college to put him off women. “Come off it; you can’t fool me. You’re not gay. Don’t you just mean you’ve gone colorblind?” David gave a shout of laughter loud enough to wake up the pub cat, which twitched its tail in their direction before stalking off behind the bar. “Jamie! This is the 1990s. Clashing is the new blending. I know you’ve always lived in the country, but you must try to keep up with the times. Though looking at what passes for fashion here, I see you’re probably still stuck in the 1950s. But never mind all that. I’m sure you’re absolutely desperate to know what’s caused me to start swinging the other way.” No, as a totally red-blooded English male of the Suffolk variety, Jamie was absolutely desperate not to have to talk about this at all. It wasn’t his idea of fun. The important thing for both of them, he decided, was to escape as soon as possible and in one piece. Finishing his drink, he put down his glass and opened his mouth to say so. But no words came. “Go on then and don’t be shy.” David grinned, apparently misinterpreting his expression for one of interest. “Ask me what happened to make me change my allegiances.” “I don’t want to know. Believe me, I don’t.” David gave a great sigh and flung out his arms. “You coward! What are you so afraid of?” “Nothing,” he snapped back. “What makes you think that? And cut the camp voice, would you?” “God, you’ve changed. You were always so liberal up at Durham.” “No, I wasn’t. Don’t be stupid. And you never used to dress like a parrot either.” 5

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“But I’ve come out,” he said. “Not here, you haven’t. This is Suffolk. My advice is to stay in…and lock the door.” “But I—” “David, drink up,” Jamie said. “I think we should go.” “Why? I’ve only just arrived.” “Because if you can’t keep your voice down, you may not be leaving at all.” “Really? Are the natives so unfriendly now?” “This is the country. Everything’s different here.” David said nothing to this, but just looked at him. There was more Jamie wanted to say—much, much more—but for some reason, he couldn’t. Instead, he got up and walked out, hoping David would follow. He didn’t. In the car park, Jamie unlocked his car, hesitated and was just about to go back and retrieve him when he heard the crunch of feet on gravel. “Hang on, Jamie,” he said, and Jamie noticed David sounded more like his old self now. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” “You didn’t,” he lied. To his surprise, Jamie found he wanted to hurt him. “To be honest, I have enough to do without you mincing round like some kind of rural Julian Clary.” David flinched. “Look, I said I was sorry. I’m just not very good at knowing how to come out.” “You could’ve fooled me. This is going to be halfway across the Dedham Vale by morning. You may as well have put a fullscale advert in the Limewater Gazette.” “You always did have a sarcastic bent.” “Please do not use the word ‘bent’ when referring to me.” 6

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He shrugged. “Okay, if that’s the way you feel about it, I’ll shut up.” “Good. Okay then.” There was a pause, during which Jamie wondered why he was behaving like this. He’d always thought of himself as an all-round nice bloke. This wasn’t him, Jamie Chadwick, full-time conference executive and part-time care-giver, long-time advocate for universal tolerance. So David had come out sometime since he’d last seen him and was trying to tell him. No big deal. Was it? David shuffled his feet. “So what shall we do then?” “Do?” He had no idea. “Yes. What did you want to do now?” “Nothing. No, cut that. I’ll go home and I don’t mind what you do.” Before he could take back the needlessly cruel words that had come from nowhere, a flash of anger twisted David’s face. “Well, screw you then,” he said. “No thanks,” Jamie replied, got into his car and drove home. *

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Great, he thought, as he turned out into the main road and headed west. Some friend he was. First time in months, maybe years, that he’d seen someone he used to know who didn’t live within a twenty-mile radius, and all he could do was kick him in the teeth and drive off. Not that Jamie didn’t like where he lived. Limewater was fine, beautiful even on a winter day as long as the wind was in the right direction, away from Mr. Stanford’s pig farm. Made up of one long main street with the church at one end, the lone shop in the middle and the pub at the other, it was certainly no metropolis. It did have several very important factors 7

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in its favor, including the village green behind the pub, where it was great for enjoying a pint in summer. The rest of the buildings were cottages giving way on the outskirts of the village to larger houses such as where he and his father lived. Neither a cottage nor a farm, but something in between. The whole set-up lay deep in the Dedham Vale, so deep that even Constable had only painted it once before getting lost and heading towards the bright lights of Salisbury. More fool him then. Jamie had never liked those Salisbury paintings. For that reason, though, they had to put up with coach loads of tourists in the summer who drove the residents out into the fields and woodland walks to avoid them. Hell, at least it kept the village shop busy. After opening the front door, while still puzzling at the strength of his reaction to David’s news, Jamie flung his jacket in the general direction of the cloakroom and strode through into the living room, muttering to himself. There he found his father with Mary Prentice, the cleaner and family friend. At his sudden entry, they both looked up from their game of cards, like rabbits spotting the farmer’s gun, but not knowing if it were loaded or not. Was he really that scary? “Goodness, what are you doing back here so soon?” his father asked. “It’s only half-past eight.” “David never turned up,” Jamie lied, thinking his father wouldn’t want to know the full answer to his question. “Hello, Mary. I didn’t know you’d be here as well. Great to see you.” Flinging himself onto the sofa, he closed his eyes, relaxing in the warmth wafting over from the fire in the grate. If he looked tired enough, maybe they would leave him alone. He couldn’t cope with conversation. Not right now. “That’s a shame, dear,” Mary said to the accompaniment of 8

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shuffling cards. “Sometimes it can be difficult to find your way around here. Perhaps he got lost? You’d think they’d put up more directions because of the tourists. But no, they never think of it, do they? You always see people wandering around the High Street, staring up at the shop and thinking it might be something important. I never have the heart to tell them it isn’t. Though, of course, it is to us and…” Jamie opened his eyes and nodded, knowing she was only being kind. It wasn’t her fault he was too shattered to join in. After ten minutes, during which the background chat was beginning to make his head ache, the doorbell rang. A rare event here in the outback. “Bloody hell!” he said, almost jumping out of the chair. “Jamie! Language, please,” his father protested. “Sorry.” Mary smiled forgiveness and opened her mouth to carry on when the doorbell rang again. Whoever was out there, they were keen to get in. Jamie legged it down the hall to the front door and pulled it open. Just as the bell was ringing for the third time. It was David. Taken by surprise, he said the first thing that came into his head. “What do you want from me?” David smiled and raised his hands in a gesture of conciliation. “Can we rewind this evening and start again?” he said.

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CHAPTER 2 Jamie’s first self-preserving instinct was to close the door, but David was too quick and jammed one foot into the decreasing gap. “Come on,” he coaxed. “Don’t be like this…give me another chance. We used to be good mates, didn’t we?” Yeah, we did, Jamie thought. David was right. They should start again, and he himself definitely needed to chill out. Or something. From behind, a fragile voice called out, “Who is it, Jamie? Who’s there?” “Is that your father?” David grinned. “Can I come in and say hello?” “Sure. But, David…” David had already side-stepped the attempted warning and was 10

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heading down the hall in the direction of the voice. Jamie slammed the door, shutting out the cold night air, and hurried after him. “David,” he hissed at his retreating back. “What?” He turned round and raised both eyebrows. “Play it down, for God’s sake.” “Play what down?” “You know. My father, he’s…” But it was too late. “Jamie?” Mary half-opened the living room door and peered around it, almost as if she expected to see the Roman army rampaging through the house on their way to Colchester and was unsure how to receive them, then advanced several paces toward the two men. “Your father was wondering who it was, and I said I’d just get up and…” The words froze on her lips as she caught sight of Jamie’s exotically dressed companion. Her jaw moved up and down for a few seconds of its own accord without producing any sound. In twenty-five years, he’d never seen or heard of her being speechless and wondered if he’d ever see the like again. In the meantime, his old friend thrust out his hand. “And you are?” he said. “Mary, this is David Fenchurch. David, this is Mary Prentice,” Jamie said, surprised to find the strict rules of country etiquette still in some sort of working order. “Oh, sure, I remember Jamie talking about you,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “You used to do the cleaning for the Chadwicks, didn’t you?” Mary giggled and looked for a moment like a young girl, which wasn’t bad going for a woman well into her seventies. “Still do, dear. A woman’s work is never done, you know.” 11

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“So everyone tells me. It must be hard work keeping up with this family.” “Indeed it is, though I shouldn’t say so.” She glanced at Jamie for a moment, and he gave her a bright smile. “I’m sure Jamie won’t mind. Tell me more, Mrs. Prentice.” David took her arm and began to walk her toward the living room. Hell, Jamie thought, he’s flirting with her. How on earth did that happen? Wasn’t he supposed to be gay now? Whatever, David’s charm was working its magic on Mary, and she was smiling broadly. Jamie had never seen her so relaxed, apart from when she was with that lanky great-nephew of hers. What was his name again? Rick? Vic? Mick? Why couldn’t he ever remember? While Jamie was flapping in the hallway like a duck watching the fox’s deadly advance, David had already opened the door to where Jamie’s father waited, then stood to one side to allow Mary to pass through. Jamie raced along to join them, just in time to see his father’s shocked expression and hear his gasp as he took in David’s appearance for the first time. Jamie had to make something up, now, but inspiration didn’t come. Did it ever? “Who are you?” his father said at last. “Have you been in an accident?” Jamie shoved David to one side and nipped in front of him. “No, Dad.” He laughed. “This is David Fenchurch, the old friend I was supposed to meet at the pub tonight. He tells me he’s just…er…on his way to a fancy dress party.” Even to himself, this sounded unlikely and he wasn’t surprised when Mary looked puzzled. “Are you sure, dear? He looks very bright, but I can’t imagine what he must be going as.” Neither could Jamie, although he was doing his best at very short notice. 12

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“I see,” Dad replied. He turned to David. “Is that why you didn’t go to the pub then?” “But I did—” David began to say and looked at Jamie. “I mean, no. I was running late and by the time I got there, Jamie had already gone. So I asked the way here and thought I’d drop by.” Dad seemed mesmerized by David’s dress sense and coughed a couple of times before dragging his gaze away. “Well, it’s nice to see a new face, young man. And it’s good for Jamie to meet someone his own age, too. Not something that happens often in Limewater, and so many of our old friends seem to drift away or just vanish, I don’t know why. It’s very upsetting.” Jamie flinched at this, but his father didn’t notice. “Can we get you anything?” “Nice to see you as well, Mr. Chadwick. I’d love a beer, thanks.” “Jamie,” his father said, “David would like a beer.” “Sure, I’ll get one.” “Would you like anything, Mary, as we’re all having drinks?” Dad continued, twisting in his chair toward her as she settled into the seat next to him. “Ooh, I’d love a sherry. Sweet, please.” “In that case, it’s a beer and a sherry, Jamie. I’d love a glass of water, while you’re in the kitchen. Helps my cough, you see, David. Sometimes I just can’t seem to clear my throat at all and…” David was still smiling when Jamie left the room and strode into the kitchen to fulfill the drinks order. Five minutes of listening to his father’s list of health complaints was enough to drive anyone to…to what? Commit murder? Well, maybe. In Jamie’s most fantastical moments anyway. Perhaps he should release some of the angst by drawing up a list of who he could get rid of if he were 13

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a different sort of person? It would at least ease some of the tension he always seemed to live with these days. Listening to Jamie’s father’s health complaints wouldn’t worry David. In a couple of hours at most he’d be out of here, driving back to the sanity of London, and Jamie would be back to where he’d been only an hour ago. On his own and with no foreseeable way out. What had David come down here for? To tell him the good news about coming out and all that jazz? Strange because, even though they were mates, they hadn’t seen each other for four years. Was there something else on his mind? When Jamie returned to the living room, none of his questions answered and balancing drinks on a tray, his father and Mary were talking at the same time, and David’s head was turning from one to the other where he sat opposite them as if watching Wimbledon. Who needed television in a place like this? “…and as for my arthritis, you can’t imagine the pain sometimes, you really can’t…” “…but I can remember my first fancy-dress party as a young girl, you know. I was only eight…” “…I can wake up and be as stiff as a board. No movement whatsoever, and Jamie here can’t really help, though he tries so hard. It’s just…” “…oh, those were the days you know. When girls could be girls and wear dresses. Not like today when…” “…it’s worse in the winter. These cold nights get to my bones, really they do…” “…everyone looks like a man in those horrible trousers. You wonder anyone gets married at all. My late husband used to say…” “…in the summer I get terrible heat rash, so painful I have to…” 14

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As the door closed behind Jamie, David gave him the look of a man about to be savaged by wild dogs and who had just caught sight of the vet with the tranquillizer gun. Jamie grinned at him, placed their drinks in front of the talking two, tossed one of the beers to David, who caught it with ease, and opened the other one for himself. Sinking into the familiar comfort of one of Dad’s old chairs, he took a much-needed swig. Again. Then, raising his voice a little in order to carry, he said, “The A12’s a nightmare. How long did it take you to get from London to here then, David?” “Good couple of hours. But it’s not a problem as I only needed to do it once. I’m not going back.” Jamie started to choke. Mary stopped talking and looked at David with renewed interest, leaving Jamie’s father in a world of his own, still chattering on, but with no-one really listening. “What?” Jamie said, when he could use his voice again. “I’m not going back to London.” Now even his father stopped talking, realizing something important was happening, though, from the look of confusion on his face, Jamie could tell he didn’t know what. “Oh? Are you staying here with the Chadwicks, dear?” Mary said. “That’s nice.” “No!” Jamie said, visions of his father finding out about David crowding his head. “Are you, David?” “Jamie!” His father gave him a hard stare. “If this young man wants to stay in our house, he is, of course, more than welcome.” Dad was right, but Jamie had actually been thinking of him, if he’d only known it. Still, his father’s words served to put him well and truly in his place. “No, there’s no need. Though thank you for the offer,” David 15

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was saying. “That was the reason I phoned Jamie in the first place. Part of my big news.” They all stared at David and, after milking more than an udderfull of their attention, he went on, “The civil service has given me a sideways move into agricultural science. I moved into my new flat in Stanton Green yesterday and I start work in Colchester tomorrow. Are you surprised?” *

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Surprised? Yes, Jamie most certainly was. He couldn’t imagine David coping with cows and pigs and half a tonne of the best British manure, certainly not dressed like that. Though it would be good to know someone in Suffolk below the age of fifty. All his other friends had long since moved away. As his father had already said. However, Mary had no such mixed feelings. “How lovely!” she cried, and then went on, echoing some of Jamie’s own thoughts. “It’ll be company for Jamie. There aren’t many young people around here, you know. They all go and live in the city and never come back. He does need to get out more. He needs someone to do things with.” Why was it both his father and Mary always made Jamie feel like the lonely schoolboy waiting in vain to be chosen for the football team? Was he really that sad? He gulped, but David smiled. “Yes, that’d be great. I need to settle in first, though.” “Are you happy with the new place? What are the neighbors like? Have you unpacked yet?” “So many questions, Mrs. Prentice. I don’t know which to 16

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answer first.” “Please, dear, call me Mary. We don’t need to stand on ceremony here, especially if you’re going to be living so close by.” Mary? What was this? It had taken five years for Mrs. Prentice to ask Jamie to call her Mary. And she’d been coming to the house every Monday and Thursday for the last eight years now. Once again, he was a poor loser to the Fenchurch charm. “Okay, Mary,” David replied, “that’s very kind of you. Yes, I’m happy with the flat. There’s plenty of room, though a fair amount of DIY to be done.” “It’s good to keep busy. My husband always said, when he was alive, that DIY for a man was what knitting and baking were for a woman. The stuff of life. People today never seem to—” “A wise man,” David said, cutting in without causing offence. How did he do that? “And as for the neighbors…well, the ones on the right left me a packet of chocolate biscuits on the steps in the morning and the ones on the left brought round a bottle of champagne in the evening.” “Ooh, lovely! People are always kinder in the country, don’t you agree? And what about the unpacking?” “Still to be done. There’s no point taking things out of boxes when I don’t know where to put them.” “What you need is a nice young woman to help you out,” my father contributed, nodding agreement with himself. “Women are good at that sort of thing, and they soon put you right. Make things all cozy.” There was a pause. “I shall have to hire one,” David said. “Like me, but a bit younger,” Mary giggled. “Oh, no!” David protested. “Nothing like the more experienced 17

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woman to keep you right. I don’t know anyone in Suffolk, though, except you three, of course, so I wouldn’t know who to ask.” “I shall have to ask around for you,” she said. “I’m sure a man like you will be snapped up in no time. There are plenty of young girls in Suffolk who’d jump at the chance to—” “Mary,” Jamie butted in, grabbing the sherry bottle and holding it over her glass, “another drink?” “It does make me so giggly, dear, and I have to drive later. No, don’t take it away. Maybe just a half?” He poured her rather less than that, and she took a generous slurp. “Anyway, David,” she went on, “what was your other news?” “Sorry?” “Your other news? You said your move back here was only part of what you had to say. Tell us what else is happening. We always like to get some excitement in Limewater, you know.” Jamie froze. Time for some action. If only he could think of any. “It was nothing,” David said. “Nothing important.” Thank God for that. His father’s living room was no place for a public outing. Jamie’s first-aid skills weren’t up to it, not even after the practice they’d had with his father this morning. Now he just had to get David out of the house as soon as possible and all would be well with the older generation. For a while. He stood up, just as Mary opened her mouth again. “Now, don’t be shy!” she said. “It must have been important for you to mention it in the first place. Are you all right, Jamie? Don’t you want to hear what David has to say?” Actually, he already had, and knew that she—along with his father—wouldn’t want to hear it. Not now and not ever. But it was 18

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too late. David was already talking, but after a moment’s frisson of panic Jamie could tell he was improvising. “Well, as I’ve moved in, I’d thought of…of having a party of some description. But…but I ought to wait until I’ve sorted the place out more and then I—” “What a clever idea!” Mary said, her eyes lighting up. “It’s such a good way to meet people, isn’t it? There could be dancing, although these days, it’s not what I’d call dancing. Not like the old days. But it’s very popular with the young people, although I don’t think Nick is very keen. Nick’s my great-nephew, David. He’s such a lovely young boy. So kind, so considerate.” Nick. That was his name. Nick. Jamie knew he’d been close with his guesses. “No room for dancing in my flat.” David laughed. “It’s big enough for me, but any more than four people inside at once and it would probably fall down. Maybe I’ll have to scrap the idea.” Mary frowned, and Jamie’s father leaned forward and patted her knee. “Well, if you want it so much, Mary, and I know how you’ve always loved a party, why doesn’t David have it here? Although it couldn’t be a house-warming party then, could it? Not really.” Jamie stared at his father. “But, Dad, you hate loud music. You’re always telling me it’s bad for your arthritis.” “Yes, you’re right, it is.” Mary sighed, then brightened a little. “Couldn’t we have it during the day? It would be quieter. If the weather stays kind, you could use the garden.” “You mean lunch in the country?” David asked, looking as if he were going to laugh. Jamie didn’t suppose Londoners had much time for that sort of thing. And, with the demands of his working life, Jamie didn’t 19

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either. However, if David was going to get snobby about it, then he was prepared to back it to the hilt. This was where he lived after all. Country people might be strange, but they were loyal. “Yes, lunch,” his father repeated. “Just how we used to do things in the old days, eh, Mary?” She giggled, and he joined in, shoulders shaking. Jamie made a mental note to let him have two painkillers tonight. “Yes,” she said. “And we could invite the vicar ’round to make it all respectable. As we used to when—” “David’s probably got better things to do with his time,” Jamie started to say, not wanting to hear the end of her sentence, until he remembered why a party might be a good thing after all. The vicar’s daughter, Carina, had the bluest eyes of anyone he’d ever come across. Not to mention a smile to die for. Jamie shut his mouth. He’d been thinking about asking her out for ages, though he’d never quite drummed up the courage, and if this party meant she came to the house, then that could only be a good thing. If his luck was in. “But it’s a laugh to do something different once in a while,” David said, giving him a sly grin so that he felt his face grow red. “You ought to try it sometime, Jamie. If the offer’s still there, can I say yes?” “How wonderful,” Mary said, clapping her hands together and not giving Jamie a chance to reply. “We shall all look forward to it so much, won’t we?” Hmm. Not all of them would, not even with the lure of Carina. Not if he couldn’t be sure what David would do. Staring wide-eyed at Mary and thinking deliciously ridiculous thoughts about the possibilities of a fantasy hit list, Jamie wondered if there would be anyone left in Limewater at all by Christmas. 20

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CHAPTER 3 It was strange. Whenever Jamie told people he lived with his father and worked from home, they always assumed he was some kind of saint, tending a sick relative and knocking off a few business deals in his spare time. One thing he certainly wouldn’t ever be up for was sainthood. Because it wasn’t like that. Being in the conference trade was a full-time occupation and he had to work all the hours he could find to make a go of it. He fitted the business in around his father whenever he could, knowing that whatever he did would somehow not be enough. Either way. Feeling guilty, about clients or personal responsibilities, was a daily, sometimes hourly hazard. He muddled through, but it was getting harder and harder, especially now his father’s bad sessions were becoming longer and more 21

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frequent. Jamie wondered what David as an outsider had thought of them all last night. David. Hell, though. What was his friend getting himself into? At college, he’d always been the one with the best-looking girl on his arm. He wasn’t gay…Jamie was sure of it. This was nothing more than the blip to end all blips. And they all had those. Even he did, though he didn’t like to think about that. No, he didn’t like to think about that at all. David just had to get over it. With any luck, he’d soon discover his wonderful new lifestyle was a terrible mistake. Perhaps he’d wake up one day and realize he’d gone too far ever to change. What would he do then? What with David and his father, if, in his make-believe life, Jamie got rid of them both, surely it would be a mercy killing. So on the Monday morning after David had re-entered his existence, Jamie unlocked the office door, bleary-eyed, and staggered in. Time for my real life to begin, he thought, as he flicked through the Financial Times, which was always how he started the working day. Wasn’t that what all would-be tycoons were supposed to do? As if. Not that it contained anything worth reading or that he could understand most of the time, if truth be told. Switching on the computer, he’d begun to flick through his messages when the phone started ringing and he was plunged into the energy of the day. A couple of hours later, he’d arranged an initial overview of one conference, tied up the loose ends on another, made three sales calls, one very warm, and started to draw up plans on the computer for two very different programs needed over the next three months. He was rocking today. For once. From downstairs he heard Mary let herself in and yelled hello 22

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as she rummaged around in the kitchen. After ten minutes or so, there was a knock at the office door. “Come in!” He wondered what she might want. She never disturbed him at all unless it was her day for vacuuming. “It’s me, Jamie.” She peered around the door. “Can I come in? Just for a minute?” “Sure. Is Dad okay?” “Yes, thank you, dear, everything’s fine.” “Great.” Jamie smiled, gesturing her to the only other chair in the room and sitting as well. He waited for her to continue. And waited. “You wanted to see me? Can I help?” His visitor took a deep breath and launched into some sort of explanation. None of it made any sense, unless he’d misplaced his memory cells that morning. “Now I just thought I’d have a quick word with you when I arrived, as I know how busy you get as the day goes on, and I didn’t want to leave things till the last minute, as I’m sure you’ll be wanting to make the decision quickly and…” Make what decision? “Sorry but you’ve lost me.” She giggled, her hand over her mouth, “Oh, dear me, hasn’t your father said?” No. He hadn’t said very much at breakfast at all. Jamie had put it down to the shock of seeing David, but perhaps the old man was simply being canny. What had his father gotten him into this time? “I haven’t said what it is either, have I? No, well, when I was chatting last night just before you came home and that charming young man arrived…” Who? Oh, David. “Mr. Chadwick mentioned you had so much to do that you 23

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couldn’t always keep on top of the accounts…” “He said what?” She stopped in mid sentence and stared at him. “Oh. He just said you were so busy with everything that sometimes the accounts fell behind.” They most certainly did not. Or rather, they did sometimes, but that was his affair, not his father’s. “I run my business well. I don’t have any problems.” Mary began twisting her white lace handkerchief into a spiral in her lap, and he tried to look less like a Rottweiler in search of a rabbit. “Yes, yes. I know you do. I mean you don’t. Have problems, that is,” she said. “But…but sometimes I know if you’re very busy, it’s hard keeping up with the routine stuff. My husband used to say…” Mr. Prentice had died some ten years ago, and from local memory had been a quiet man, devoted to his wife, and someone who could go months in the village without ever being seen outside the marital home at all. It was astonishing how much he had to say for himself now. “I know you’re only being kind, but you shouldn’t believe everything my father tells you,” Jamie cut in as gently as he could. “My accounts are fine, thank you. Cash flow is good.” “Are you sure? Your father said it would be a wonderful idea if…if…” “If what?” “If you might see your way to finding some work for Nick.” “Nick?” he asked, now more confused than ever. “Yes, my great-nephew, you know.” Her face lit up, taking all her years away. “He’s a lovely young lad. I’m so very proud of 24

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him, and he’s just come back home from travelling around the world, you know, like all you young people do nowadays. He’s very talented and…” But Jamie didn’t want to hear about travel. Only two people he knew had ever travelled and both of them were now as far away as they could be. In Japan, a world away from Limewater. One of them being the blessed Mark, his elder half-brother and his father’s pride and joy. Besides, there was no chance of Jamie being able to travel now, even if he’d wanted to. “But what experience does he have?” he interrupted, and then cursed himself for not being more decisive about it. He should have just said no. “He’s got A levels in Business Studies. And French, you know.” She nodded with enthusiasm, as if this in itself would be enough to make Jamie welcome Nick into his office with open arms. “That will be useful in Suffolk.” Mary reddened, but she didn’t back down, and he smiled an apology. “Yes, well, he’s also studied an accounting module as part of his course and he’s very interested in that sort of thing, you know.” “But, Mary, my accounts are all on the computer, and it’s a completely different way of working. I—” “He’s very good with computers. His mother is always saying how much time he spends on the line.” “Online. Yes, I’m sure he does, but I have to say no, thank you. I’ve always worked by myself. It’s what I’m used to.” The look of disappointment on her face made Jamie search for other suggestions. “Why doesn’t he try his luck at one of the big accountants in Colchester or Ipswich? They’ll be able to help.” 25

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“But your father…” “Yes?” he said, laying his pen on the desk to avoid tapping it like a demented woodpecker. “Your father said it would be fine and that Nick could come for an interview on Thursday when I’m next here. I talked to Nick last night and it’s all arranged. I thought you’d be happy. I’m sorry.” She blew her nose hard on the neat lace handkerchief. Before Jamie could help himself, he started to laugh. “Jamie?” “It’s all right, Mary. Please don’t cry. I see this is a conspiracy and there has been dark plotting on the village green. Don’t worry, I—” Before he could continue, the phone started to ring. Typical. Why was it that nothing happened for years around here and then everything happened at once? Must be something in the Limewater air. Reaching for the phone, he smiled at Mary and was pleased to see her put the handkerchief away. “Okay, I’ll see Nick. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to him on Thursday. We’ll see how it works out then.” “Jamie Chadwick, thank you so much. You’re a love.” She gave him a huge kiss on the cheek before hurrying away and shutting the door behind her. Wiping his face clean of what seemed like a month’s supply of cherry lipstick, Jamie put on his best professional voice and picked up the receiver. “JC Conferences. May I help you?” *

*

*

“Dad, what on earth have you been up to?” 26

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His father stared up at him from his usual position opposite the television and looked shifty. Jamie’s telephone call had meant he’d been tied up pretty much for the remainder of the day and Mary had gone home. “Nothing,” he said. “Come off it. You’ve been plotting with Mary to give her unemployed nephew a job. Nepotism at its worst, don’t you think?” He eased himself down with a sigh onto the sofa and glanced without interest through the TV schedule pages. Usual Monday night rubbish, nothing more. “Great-nephew. Nick’s Mary’s great-nephew. Why don’t you ever remember that? I thought you could do with the help. You sit up there in that office of yours day in day out and I never see you. Having staff will be useful, won’t it? You’re always telling me how busy you are.” That was true, though sometimes Jamie used it as an excuse to be on his own and think. He found he needed the space, now more than ever. “Yes, you need the help. And Nick’s a good boy,” Dad went on. “Mary’s always telling me so.” “I don’t doubt he is. But I’m doing okay by myself.” “Why are you arguing with me?” he said, eyes suddenly blazing. “It’s upsetting, and you know how that affects my arthritis. You can’t understand what it’s like. You’ve never had to go through what I do. You’ve never had to be ill like this.” Jamie closed his eyes for a second. Pain always made his father grumpy. He ought to be patient. And keep thinking about that wonderful hit list. “Okay, okay. I’m not arguing with you. I was just joking, that’s all. I’ve agreed to interview Nick on Thursday, and we’ll see what he’s like. But, as I told Mary, I won’t promise 27

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anything.” “Nick?” Now his father looked confused. “Yes,” Jamie said. “Nick. Mary’s great-nephew. You asked him. Remember?” “Ah, yes.” He nodded. “I thought it would be helpful for you. I know how much you hate doing the accounts. You’re always moaning about them. You do go on so…” Jamie felt his stomach muscles clench, but said nothing. “…and so, when dear Mary told me Nick was an expert at accounts, I thought it would be the ideal solution for you. What do you say? Haven’t I been helpful? Haven’t I?” Jamie wasn’t convinced Nick would turn out to be any sort of expert with accounts at all. Or anything else, for that matter. Anyway, what was he going to do with staff? Terrible idea. If he had staff, he’d be a manager rather than the go-getting young entrepreneur he wanted to be. He wished. But now wasn’t the time to point this out. “Sure, Dad, you’ve been great. Thank you. But don’t worry about it. It’s my business and by now I can just about…” But his father wasn’t listening. “Mary Prentice is a good woman, and we must do what we can for her,” he said. “She works hard for us and the least we can do is repay her with a kindness now and again. She was very good to us all when your mother was ill, you know.” Jamie folded the newspaper until it was unreadable as his father talked on. His mother had died when he was very young and he could barely remember her, but in his father’s world, and, of course, in his, she still packed a punch. More than anything, Jamie wished he’d known her, but he hadn’t, and there was nothing he could do about it. Now, the moment she came up in a conversation 28

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with his father, he knew any argument he might have had a chance of winning would be lost. You couldn’t fight a dead parent; they won every time. “And another thing,” Dad went on, “this house is my house and whatever goes on inside it is my responsibility as well. Which includes your business, Jamie. I save you a lot of costs by allowing you to work from here. If I want to offer you young Nick to help you out, then the least you can do is give him a fair hearing, eh?” God, where the hell had that come from? Had he dropped into Angry Father mode while Jamie had been drifting? Had his father been reading The Oldie and found an article on how to put his caregiver son in his place? If so, it had done the trick, and Jamie had no answer to it. Besides, it was nothing but the truth. He could almost admire the old man for that killer punch. “You see!” his father declared. “You know I’m right, don’t you? No, in my opinion, you have too much work and could do with the help. You should give this young man a chance. Who can tell what might happen? Now, if Mark were here, he’d agree with me. You see if he wouldn’t.” Mark. Jamie had been wondering how long it would take his father to get around to comparing him with that great symbol of virtue. He couldn’t ever reach the high standards of perfection Mark had achieved in everything he’d ever turned his hand to. In his father’s eyes, that was, damn it. Thank God his half-brother— and, of course, his long-suffering sister-in-law, Allie—lived in Japan, and Jamie never had to deal with him, apart from the Christmas visit and the inevitable telephone calls. “Mark is so good at managing people that he’d soon train this young man, and your accounts would be solved in no time. I know that’s what you’re worried about. In fact, why don’t you give your 29

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brother a ring and ask his advice? I’m sure he’d be happy to help you and it would be lovely to hear him again.” Somehow, his father had honed in on the source of Jamie’s concerns and opened them all up for inspection. What sort of manager would he make? He really had no idea at all. But not wanting to get into another argument, he stood and headed toward the door. Just before leaving the room, he said, “Well, cheers for that. And sure, Mark would be able to solve all the world’s problems just by touching them with his healing hands, but he’s not here. So I’ll have to solve this on my own.” Families, eh. *

*

*

By Thursday however, Jamie had begun to wonder whether hiring somebody to organize his accounts might not be such a bad thing after all. It would free him up to do the parts of the job he loved. How hard could it be anyway to be in charge of a person, rather than pieces of equipment and conferences? Still, in spite of his newfound positive approach to staff, his first sight of Nick didn’t fill him with confidence. Nick skulked in the shadows of the hallway like a burglar as his great aunt introduced him to Jamie with pride, made them some coffee and then disappeared to start cleaning the kitchen. She seemed to have some strange idea that Nick and he would now discuss what she called “men’s business.” Whatever that might be. Jamie showed him up to the office straight away. If he was going to have to let Nick down, it would be better not to have either of their relatives fussing round them like crazed hens. At least it would be less painful for the poor bloke. 30

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Waving him inside, Jamie watched as he gazed around, taking in the state-of-the-art equipment, matte-black furniture and plain white walls. He liked to keep things simple when he worked. He’d read once that it helped creative thinking. And in his business, creativity of any sort was vital. The whole effect was offset by the two nineteenth-century Japanese prints that had been a present for his eighteenth birthday, from someone he was determined not to think about now. One print was of an old man dressed in a traditional kimono and the other of a geisha entertaining customers at a tea ceremony. Jamie liked them very much. No, he loved them. But his father didn’t share his tastes and, thinking they might be faintly shocking, had been glad when he’d decided to hang them in here. “Wow!” Nick exclaimed. “This is so cool.” At once Jamie felt ten years older. “So, Nick,” he said, leaning back and stretching his arms behind his head as he imagined bosses were supposed to do, “take a seat and tell me why you want to work here.” From his chair, Nick gaped at him, eyes widening behind his glasses, like a tall, lanky Harry Potter. Then he closed his mouth before opening it again and emitting a strangled squawk. “Well, I…um…I… Well, that is to say I…” This was not going well. Maybe Jamie was being too direct? He should rephrase the question. Give the boy a chance. “I mean what would interest you about this particular job, such as it is?” he said. Nick swallowed twice before looking at him and saying in a rush, “Well, I…I need the money and I’m good at accounts.” That was direct and not what he’d been expecting. “Why do you need the money?” he asked him. Out of genuine 31

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interest. Nick was only nineteen. He hadn’t been to university. Where had the debt come from? “I’ve been travelling,” he said, sitting up and looking eager for the first time. “I’m saving up to go again.” Of course, the travel. Jamie had forgotten about that. So no debt then. And a saver, even in the teenage years. Indeed, he must be an accountant in the making. No worries as to career there. Mary would be thrilled and her comfortable old age—or even older age—was assured. “Where did you go?” “Australia.” “Good for you. Did you work your way around?” “Sure. I did bar work and then worked on a sheep farm for a bit. It was brilliant.” Bar work? Jamie couldn’t imagine it somehow. Nick didn’t seem the type. But thinking of David, who could tell what type meant these days? Nick was probably a wow with the drinks orders. “And the accounts?” “S-sorry?” The change in subject made Nick slump back in his chair and look defeated. Jamie hoped he wasn’t going to cry. He couldn’t bear tears. “The accounts,” he repeated, as gently as possible. “You said you were good at them. Could you give me examples of what you’ve done?” Not that he would have understood anything more than a basic answer, but he felt the question ought to be asked. “Well, I…er…I took accounting techniques as one of my modules in my b-business studies course. I’ve got my papers here 32

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if you’d like to see them.” “No, there’s no need,” Jamie said. “What I’d really like to know is whether you have any experience.” “Yes. I’ve been working for an optician on the accounts side. Look, Mr. Chadwick.” For a moment, Jamie thought his father must have come in, but Nick reached into his pocket and offered up a neatly folded letter. He read it while Nick explained what it contained. Why did people do that? It made it almost impossible to take anything in. “I got a Saturday job there in my final year at school. Thought it might be useful, as I don’t want to go to university or anything. They let me help out with the billing and checking of invoices. And I helped improve their online system.” The letter certainly agreed with what he’d just said. Jamie would need to ring his former employers to check it out, but in the meantime, he wondered what Nick could actually do. Turning the computer screen in his direction, he said, “Okay. Sounds good. My accounts package is on there. If you’re up for it, give me some idea of what you might make of it.” Half an hour later, he was beginning to feel as if his father perhaps wasn’t as interfering and difficult as he’d thought. At this rate, he might disappear from that hit list altogether. And then there would only be David. Nick’s computer skills weren’t as good as Jamie’s own, but his knowledge of accounts was surprisingly broad. He should seriously think about giving him the job. However, he’d already had to interrupt proceedings four times to answer the phone and it was time to get on with the day. “Cheers,” Jamie said, bringing the discussion to an end. “That’s enough for now. Let me have your number. I’ll ring you tomorrow and let you know.” 33

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“Okay,” he said, writing his contact details on the paper Jamie had given him. “I’d like to have a try.” “It’s not a question of having a try. This is my business and I need it to succeed.” “Yes, I know. I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I…I meant it sounds interesting. And I think I could be of some help.” Giving him a reassuring smile, Jamie said, “Yes, that’s what I need to think over. I’ll ring you tomorrow. Okay?” *

*

*

It didn’t take him long. Jamie rang him the next afternoon. Not giving him a chance to draw breath, he told Nick that if he arrived first thing on Monday, he’d have plenty for him to do. If after a week they still liked each other, Jamie would be able to hire him three days a week, Mondays to Wednesdays, at least up until Christmas. “Oh, and call me Jamie,” he’d added. He didn’t want any of this “Mr. Chadwick” nonsense. Nick’s enthusiastic response made him smile and after he’d put the phone down, he spent some time drawing up a list of tasks he could start with. Nothing too complicated. And after that there were other equally important things to think about. The party, for instance. And the vicar’s daughter who, right now, was top of the list. But for romance, not for the hit list.

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CHAPTER 4 “Hi, Carina. How are you then?” Okay, okay, not the greatest of pick-up lines, Jamie had to admit, but he was out of practice. Leaning against the door at church after the Sunday service, just behind the unholy crowd of coffee drinkers, mainly women of a certain age, there wasn’t much scope for being any smarter. Carina started and almost spilled her coffee. “Hey, watch that! You’ll scald yourself,” he said, steadying the cup in her hands and holding on a little longer than necessary. Wouldn’t anyone? She was slim, attractive, blonde and not taller than he. Which, as Jamie was only five-foot-seven—a constant source of irritation and one of the many things he blamed his father for—was something he cared about. Deeply. 35

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“Oh, thank you, Jamie. That’s nice of you.” She smiled and lowered her eyes. “No problem,” he said, at last letting go of her hand. “Couldn’t have you ruining your dress, could I?” When, surprisingly, Carina didn’t at once walk away from him, Jamie checked to see where her father was. Then, finding courage from somewhere, he smiled, coughed and launched into the speech he’d spent most of the morning preparing. As always, it didn’t come out the way he’d imagined. “There’s something I’d like to ask you,” he said. “What’s that then?” “Carina! Have you got the biscuits, darling?” The vicar’s voice boomed like a death-knell across the church floor and into Jamie’s ear, and all his words disappeared into the crisp morning air. Carina turned at once to go. Determined not to be thwarted this time, he grabbed her arm and whispered, “Dad and I are having a few people ’round for lunch next Sunday. Would you like to come? And your father, too?” Having the vicar around would make them all feel guilty of some unknown crime, much like policemen always did. But as his own father had a tendency to appear suddenly at doorways on those rare and almost forgotten occasions when Jamie brought a girlfriend home, he thought the vicar might keep him occupied. “Yes, that would be lovely,” she said, and he could have sworn she was blushing. “C-can we bring anything?” Astonished at such early success, Jamie blinked and said, “Just yourself, Carina. That will be great.” *

* 36

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Dreaming about Carina may have been interesting, but starting to work with Nick wasn’t. It was Tuesday morning and his second day at work wasn’t going well. Already he’d lost one of Jamie’s files on the computer and it had taken him some time to retrieve it. Right now, the new employee was standing in front of the photocopier looking bemused and holding a sheaf of papers like a comfort blanket. “It’s the green button, Nick,” he said with more emphasis than necessary, just before the phone rang again. He shuffled a little and mumbled a reply. “Everything okay?” Jamie asked, picking up the phone. Nick waited for him to finish the conversation before saying, “Yes, th…thank you. I was just wondering how to collate all this.” Jamie wondered if he was more nervous today as it wasn’t one of Mary’s work days. On Monday, she’d popped in several times to see how “our Nick” was getting on, and he must have been glad to see a familiar face. “Here, watch me. This is what you do.” Making sure he was following instructions, Jamie ran through the myriad of programs on the photocopier. After he’d initiated Nick into its mysteries, he spent the next hour or so printing off more presentations as he worked on the accounts. With everything that was happening, Jamie lost track of the time and the sound of the front door bell made him jump. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was 11A.M. Mrs. Flanders, Dad’s physiotherapist, must have arrived. On time, as well. “I’ll get it,” Jamie said, heading toward the door. “If anyone rings, just take a number and say I’ll get back to them as soon as I can.” There was an uncomfortable pause. “That’s okay? Isn’t it?” 37

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“Yes. Yes, of course.” “Great. And, Nick?” “Yeah?” “You’ll be fine. You’re doing just great.” Downstairs, he opened the front door and gave a friendly smile to…the person on the doorstep. Who wasn’t Mrs. Flanders. Not at all. In fact, anyone less like Mrs. Flanders had yet to be created. This person was not tall, old or grey-haired. No, this person— sorry, woman, very attractive woman—couldn’t have been any more than in her mid-twenties and was just a little taller than Jamie. In addition, she had the sort of combination of sultry dark hair, luminous skin and long legs that he’d never seen before in Limewater. Where had she come from? Why was it that you waited months for a girl to turn up and then two arrived at once? Still, she’d be spoken for, Jamie was sure of it. “Hello. I’m Lucy Reid,” the vision of beauty said, presumably bored with waiting for him to stop staring, and stretched out her hand. “You must be James Chadwick.” She knew his name. It must be a sign. He took hold of her hand and gave it a firm shake. “That’s right, but please call me Jamie. Everyone else does. Can I help you?” “Okay, Jamie. Well, I know you weren’t expecting me quite so soon…” No, that much was true. But he could handle it, if she gave him a chance. Carina and he hadn’t actually gone out together yet, had they? “I’m Mrs. Flanders’ replacement and—” “Mrs. Flanders’ replacement? But you’re…” Lucy smiled. “Yes? I’m…” Her hand twisted in his, and Jamie let it go. He hadn’t realized 38

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he was still holding onto her with quite such determination. “Not what I expected,” he finished. “What’s happened to Mrs. Flanders? Is she all right?” “She was due to go at the end of the year, but I’m afraid her daughter isn’t very well at the moment, so she decided she’d rather move down south to be with her now.” “Sorry to hear it.” “Yes, but I’m sure Amy will be fine, thank you. Now please may I come in? Then I can see what I can do for your father.” “Sure,” he replied, moving aside to let her pass into the hallway. As he did so, the scent of apples washed over him as her hair swung round her shoulders. If Jamie had been a girl, he might even have fainted, but only if he could have been sure of not bumping his head. “My father’s in the living room. It’s best for space.” Dad glanced up as the two of them walked in. And then glanced again. “Oh,” he said, putting down the book he was reading. “Isn’t Mrs. Flanders coming today?” “No, Dad. Mrs. Flanders has gone to live with her daughter. This is Lucy Reid, your new physiotherapist.” “That’s very sudden. Is Amy all right? It’s not the cancer come back, is it? That would be terrible. Terrible.” “We don’t know, Mr. Chadwick,” Lucy said. “I think they’re just being careful. Mrs. Flanders promised she’d write and bring all her patients up to date as soon as she could. I’m sure there’ll be a letter in the post.” “Good. I must write back. Just as soon as I get her letter. I hope she remembers to put her new address on.” “Yes, I’m sure she will. She’s very efficient.” 39

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“Yes, indeed.” Dad gave Lucy a closer look. But not quite in the same way as Jamie had. “Goodness, you’re very young, aren’t you? Are you sure you’re a physiotherapist? With the hospital?” “Dad!” “Well, young man, this is my arthritis we’re talking about here. I need to know that—” “Of course, Mr. Chadwick,” Lucy answered. “You’re very right to ask. You hear such stories nowadays. However, I am indeed a trained physiotherapist and have more than a few happy clients to confirm it.” She handed Jamie’s father an envelope and went on, “Here. This is my official card. If you like, you can contact the hospital to check.” “Please,” Jamie chipped in. “There’s no need for that. I’m sure you’re the best person for the job.” His father snorted, but Jamie ignored him. At that moment, he didn’t care whether Lucy was a serial killer intent on murdering his father and disposing of his body under the patio, just as long as she was in the house and intending to visit again on a regular basis. Come to think of it, if she did murder his father, it would save him the effort of making that hit list. And surely here was someone who would never need to be added to it. “I’ll leave you two alone to get on with the session,” Jamie said, a sudden vision of the number of disasters that could be happening upstairs springing to mind. He shouldn’t have left Nick on his own for so long, not on his second day. “Can I get you a coffee first?” “Not for me, thanks,” Lucy replied. Dad shook his head, and Jamie turned to go. Then inspiration struck. “Oh, I almost forgot.” 40

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“Yes?” “Mrs. Flanders always used to stay for some lunch before she went on to her next patient. Would you like to?” “Sounds lovely, but there’s really no need.” “It’s no problem. I don’t see why we shouldn’t carry on as we were before.” “Okay then,” she said with a smile. “That would be grand.” Congratulating himself on his politeness and sense of fair play, even though he knew his motives were rather more than that, Jamie took the stairs up to the office two at a time. *

*

*

He was just in time to retrieve one of his major clients from the less-than-professional handling Nick was giving him on the phone. Still glowing with the thought of Lucy in the house and the endless pictures of happiness being conjured up in his head, Jamie said nothing and instead made a mental note to factor in some training in telephone skills as soon as possible. He should ask Lucy to the Sunday party. But he couldn’t. He’d already asked Carina. Could he? Wouldn’t that be too modern for the country? Still, Lucy might be grateful to meet a few people her age around here. She and Carina might like each other. And the more women David met, the better. Jamie would be doing him a favor. It would get him back on the straight and narrow, as it were. If, these days, he dared even think in that kind of way. All in all, lunchtime couldn’t come soon enough. At the stroke of twelve, Jamie closed the file he was working on with a bang, causing Nick to jump up with a start from his position at the computer. “Lunch?” Jamie asked him. 41

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“Sure.” Downstairs, Lucy was sitting on the sofa and chatting to Jamie’s father. “Hi,” he said, feeling sixteen and tongue-tied again. “Everything okay?” “Yes, I think so. What did you think, Mr. Chadwick?” “Fine, my dear. Though these new exercises will take a bit of getting used to. When you get to my age, you find that you can’t be as active as you once were and—” “Yes, Dad, but perhaps something new will help you a little more. Change can be good.” “I don’t know. I don’t have much faith in new ideas. In my day, you knew where you were, you—” “Lunch?” Jamie said, realizing he was starving and knowing that once on the subject of the old days, Dad could get very caught up. If he had to, he could always tell them all about it while they were eating. Which they did in the living room, gazing out at the garden and making the most of the crisp sunshine. Lucy chatted about the hospital and the flat she shared with some colleagues. Jamie was glad she was doing most of the talking as it meant he could listen and gaze at her without having to think about conversation. Seeing Nick’s shyness, she soon began to try to draw him out of himself. “So what sort of work is Jamie getting you to do? Nothing too complicated, I hope.” Nick blushed and said, “I’m here to get Jamie’s accounts in… I mean I’m helping on the accounts side. For a while.” “It’s not permanent then?” “Not at the moment,” Jamie confirmed. “Though, we’ll see. I like to work on my own on the whole.” 42

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Lucy laughed, a bright sound like a stream in the height of summer. “Really?” she said. “I would never have guessed.” “What makes you say that?” He was intrigued, but she didn’t pursue it. It felt like she’d stirred something up inside him with just a few words and then left him to burn alone. “Feminine intuition,” she countered instead and turned back to Nick. “So what will you do when you’ve finished the accounts?” “I’d like to go travelling again. If things work out.” “That sounds exciting. Where to?” “Australia again. Or Europe. I’m not sure at the moment.” He paused to take another bite of cheese and pickle sandwich. Lucy smiled. “Is this your first job since travelling then?” “Yeah, and only my second day.” “Well, good luck with it. I can remember my first job only too clearly, I’m afraid. I made an idiot of myself.” “I’m sure you didn’t,” Jamie’s father protested. “You young people are all so confident these days.” “What happened?” Jamie asked her. “Major admin disaster. I was trying to put an address for one of my patients into a database, and goodness knows what I did, but it changed every single one of the two thousand people on there so they were all living at the same address. It was scary, I’m telling you. I had visions of hundreds of doctors all turning up at this poor man’s home demanding to see their particular patient.” “How dreadful,” Dad said. “What did you do?” “It wasn’t too bad in the end. The people in IT just used the back-up from the night before to clear it up, so I didn’t have to leave the country after all. Afterwards, they changed the system so that nobody else could ‘do a Lucy,’ as they started to call it.” The way she’d told it made Jamie laugh, and whatever it was 43

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inside him that had been on edge began to settle down. Later, he offered everyone coffee, but Lucy refused, saying she had to get on. “Thanks for the lunch, Jamie, Mr. Chadwick. I’ll see you both on Friday then. Make sure you practice those exercises.” She grinned at his father, turned to Nick and continued, “Nice meeting you, Nick. Hope you settle in soon.” “I’ll show you out,” Jamie said, leaping to his feet and opening the door for her. “Nick, if you go back upstairs, I’ll be with you in a moment, okay?” In the hallway, he handed over her jacket, trying to keep his breath under control and wondering how to say what he wanted to. “Thank you so much for lunch,” she said again. “It was very sweet of you.” “No problem,” he replied, putting his hand to the front door, but not opening it. “And before you go, I wondered if…” “Yes?” And then it all came out in a rush. “I’m having a few people over for lunch on Sunday to welcome an old friend into the area. He doesn’t know many people. And I suppose you might not either. Do you want to come?” Raising her eyebrows, she looked him up and down for a few seconds. Again, he experienced that burning sensation in his stomach, the feeling of being slightly out of control. It had been a long time since he’d felt anything like that, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. He waited, thinking of Carina and hating himself, but not thinking of her, too. “That’s good of you, thanks,” she said. “I’ll let you know on Friday.” 44

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Yes. Or maybe? *

*

*

“Jamie?” His father’s voice was sharp. It was around the middle of the afternoon and Nick and he were in the office working, with the door open. It was the voice of command. And pain. “Shit,” he said and leapt up from the chair, scattering aside assorted diagrams and reports, and rushed downstairs. Dad was in the dining room, sitting at an awkward angle, a grimace of pain shadowing his face. “What is it? What’s wrong?” “It’s nothing,” he panted, struggling with the words. “I just can’t find my pills. I know they’re here somewhere. I just don’t know where.” “Don’t worry. They’re in the table drawer, as always. Why don’t you keep some near your chair, like I tell you to?” He said nothing, but just groaned as Jamie shook out onto his not-quite-steady hand a couple of the pain killers and handed them over. “Take two now, and you can have another one later on.” “Thank you, Jamie, you’re a good boy. I don’t know what I’d do without you, really I don’t.” He swallowed them as instructed, and Jamie sat down and watched him, waiting for the drugs to kick in. “No, I’ve no idea either.” He smiled at his father, but Dad was in no state to respond. That was the trouble. What would he do without Jamie? He’d be lost, unless he could persuade bloody Mark to give up his high45

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flying career teaching the Japanese about the English way of life and come back to help instead. No chance. Mark had gone and wouldn’t be back. Ever. No, his father was stuck with him. And Jamie was stuck with his father, too. Sometimes it felt like they’d never be free. And knowing arthritis as Jamie had come to know it, it wouldn’t be without a lot of pain for his father either. Not a good thought. On any level. Sometimes there just didn’t seem to be any way out for either of them. Unless… God, though, he mustn’t be stupid. The hit list was a fantasy. Nothing more. Wasn’t it? After a while, he asked his father, “Okay now?” “Yes, yes, thank you. I do feel a bit better. You can’t imagine what it was like. I don’t know how I’d cope without these pills. I don’t know how…” Letting him talk on, Jamie helped him up to his room and onto the bed. He stayed until his father’s breathing seemed easier. “Hey, you should be fine now. I don’t think there’s any need for the doctor again. You get some rest and I’ll see you later.” He said nothing in reply, but Jamie could feel his father’s eyes on his retreating figure. Sometimes it felt as if whatever he did, it could never be enough. Sometimes he wondered whether in fact he loved his father at all. What kind of son did that make him? *

*

*

It was five-thirty and, although there was still a good couple of hours’ work in Jamie’s day, Nick was packing up when the doorbell went for the third time. On the doorstep stood David, in a dark grey suit, although Jamie noted a hint of color in his bright 46

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green socks and matching tie. “Hi. You look almost normal.” “Thanks, Jamie. Nice welcome. Can I come in? I’ve just spent three hours in the area counting cows and I need a break.” “Sure. But it’s getting to be like Piccadilly Circus in here today.” “And what on earth would a nice country boy like you know about a thing like that?” One look from Jamie stopped him in his tracks. Jamie waved him through into the living room and watched as he slumped onto the sofa. “Give me a moment, would you? I just need to make sure Nick’s left everything in order before he goes.” “Nick? Who’s he?” “Mary’s great-nephew. He’s working for me at the moment.” “Oh, sure, she mentioned him. What’s he like?” “Why?” An alarm was sounding in his head, but Jamie couldn’t fathom its message. “No reason.” David shrugged. “Just making conversation, that’s all.” “That’s not very macho, is it?” The comment didn’t sound as funny as Jamie had meant it to be, and David frowned. “God, you’re really on edge, aren’t you? You redheads, you’re all the same. Though you never used to be this bad. What’s the matter?” “Nothing’s the matter. I’m fine. I’ve just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.” “Okay, okay. No need to get all hot and bothered.” “I am not hot and bothered. I’m calm.” “So I see. Let’s change the subject then.” “We don’t have a subject to change,” Jamie said, just as Nick 47

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came into view, hovering round the door frame and peering in at them like an owl woken by the morning light. “Is it all right to go now, Jamie?” “Is everything all right upstairs?” David snorted as Jamie went on, making himself clear. “In the office?” “Yes, I think so.” Well, if it wasn’t, Jamie could check in a few minutes. Then tonight, he would plan a training schedule to ensure Nick and he both got the best out of this. He’d work out how to be a good boss if it was the last thing he did. Before Jamie could see Nick to the door, David had leapt up and stretched out his hand. “Hello, I’m David Fenchurch, and seeing as Jamie doesn’t look as if he’s going to introduce us, you are?” “Nick. Nick Prentice.” “Pleased to meet you, Nick. I’m an old friend of Jamie’s from university. I see you’re doing some work for him. I hope you’re enjoying it, but if you’re not, don’t worry. His bark’s worse than his bite, you know. I could tell you some things that—” “David!” He subsided with a casual shrug. “Me and my mouth,” he said, but Nick half-smiled. “Nick, I think it’s time you went,” Jamie said. “I’ll see you in the morning.” When Jamie returned to the living room, David was leaning back in one of the corner chairs and leafing through an old parish magazine that must have been buried in the magazine rack next to the Financial Times. “Hey! This is so cool,” he said. “Does your Women’s Institute always have a Guess the Weight of the Handbag competition?” 48

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“How would I know?” “You live here. Aren’t village folk supposed to be in and out of each other’s pockets like blood brothers?” “This isn’t The Archers, David. This is real life.” He put down the magazine and gave Jamie his full attention. “Conference trade keeping you busy?” “Certainly is,” Jamie said, relaxing as they at last found a subject he could handle. “I’ve almost got more work than I can do myself, but that’s the way I like it. Which is where Nick comes in. If he can take some of the accounts off me, then it means I can focus on the creative side and really get this thing flying. I’ve got a lot of ideas I need to work on.” “Good for you. I like to see someone enjoy what he does. Makes a change.” “From what? Aren’t you happy in the civil service?” “Is anyone?” He grimaced. “No, it’s okay on the whole. I think my move here will be better. Up in London, it was all admin. I prefer to be out and about, doing real work.” “Yeah, I know what you mean.” They smiled at each other, and Jamie thought for the first time that maybe he was glad David was back. He just hoped his old friend could sort himself out soon. They were silent for a couple of moments, and he wondered what to do next. “So…” Jamie shifted on the chair, searching for subject matter, but finding none. “So.” “Yes…” “What is it, Jamie? Remembered what I told you in the pub all of a sudden?” “Look, it’s none of my business,” Jamie said, plunging into 49

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unknown territory mapless and compass-free. “And tell me to shut it if you want to, but have you any idea what you’re doing? I mean, I know it’s up to you, but you never struck me as… I mean, you don’t…” “And you’re the world expert, are you?” “No, I’m not. No way. It’s just I don’t think you’re gay, David, that’s all.” “I see.” He looked away and swallowed. “And, no, it is none of your business. Though I have to say, I didn’t think you’d be this prejudiced. I honestly didn’t.” “I’m not prejudiced. I’m just saying what I think.” “Okay, let’s drop the subject. But if you’re that stressed out about me, did you want to ditch the whole lunch thing? Now, while there’s time?” “No, don’t be stupid,” Jamie said. “And I’m not stressed out about you, or anyone or anything else. Not at all.” There was another awkward pause, after which David stood up. “Well, good to see you again. Give my regards to your father.” Jamie nodded an answer as he led David down the hallway. At the door, David turned around. “Is Nick going to be here on Sunday?” he asked. “Sure. Why?” “No reason. He’s a good-looking young man, though, isn’t he? Behind the glasses?” And with a sly grin, he was gone.

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CHAPTER 5 Parties. At times, Jamie could almost love them. When he wasn’t responsible for them, that was. Today, however, it was a completely different thing. All that making sure everyone had a drink, food and someone to talk to was a surefire way of not enjoying it himself. Not to mention wondering what on earth he was going to do about Lucy and Carina. What had possessed him to invite Lucy as well? Who did he think he was? Some sort of Casanova? This was no way for a decent bloke to behave and, as he piled more glasses and drinks onto yet another tray, Jamie tried to get rid of the image of Lucy’s apple-scented hair and concentrate on Carina’s eyes instead. It didn’t work, or if it did, it was only for a minute. He had to get a grip. Besides, there was no need to worry 51

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anyway. Lucy wouldn’t come. Why should she? She probably had some secret admirer somewhere else who was taller, richer and better looking. And hey, he liked Carina, didn’t he? That had to count for something. He wasn’t so sure about Lucy. There was just something about her that…well, never mind. Women were a mystery; he could never tell what they were really thinking. It must be a lot easier for David—he only had men to worry about. Talking of David, it was just after noon and he was already in the house, helping out in the kitchen, calming down Jamie’s father and rearranging the living room. Though to be honest, Jamie couldn’t see anything wrong with it in the first place. It was tidy, and what more did people expect? But no, David had brought in armfuls of greenery from the garden and found several candles in one of the cupboards, which he’d lit in spite of the lack of darkness. Now it looked more like something from Country Life. Not like home at all. Perhaps, for David, gay meant arty. Who could tell? Of course, Dad loved it. If the cold weather didn’t make his arthritis worse than it was, he would have been out in the garden all year round, king of all he surveyed, leaving Jamie to hold sway in the house. Or at least in the office. Right now, the day was warm and his father was happy and grinning like a hyena. “That looks very homely, David,” he said, putting down his gin and orange, and gazing around the room as if he were seeing it for the first time. “Jamie would never think to do something like that. Now Mark is different again. He has the artistic touch, you know. My eldest son is very creative and always pays attention to his surroundings. Just like his mother.” “Come off it, Dad.” Jamie laughed, but unsure whether he was really finding this funny or not. “I realize I’ve got no artistic 52

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leanings and Mark is second only to Van Gogh, but…” “She was a woman who always knew how something should look. Amanda had a lot of taste, especially when it came to—” “Huh. If she was that much of a paragon, why bother to divorce her and marry my mother at all then?” The words were out of Jamie’s mouth before he knew they were there. What exactly was wrong with him? These days, he sometimes sounded like someone else entirely who he didn’t particularly like. David stared at him before shuffling his feet and rearranging a vase that didn’t need it. Jamie was grateful for the diversion. “Look, Dad, I’m sorry,” he said, watching his father’s eyes fill with tears. “I didn’t mean that. Must be lack of sleep or something.” “Yes, these things always run in families, don’t they?” David chipped in with a bright smile. “It’s odd what comes down through the generations. My mother says…” Jamie had no idea whether he meant divorce, artistic ability or lack of sleep, but in any case, what Mrs. Fenchurch had to say about it was never revealed as the first guests began to arrive. In the midst of them were Carina and her father. “Come in,” he said, realizing he was pleased to see her after all. “In fact, come through to the garden. Everything’s out there, as well as indoors, in case it rains. I’ll take your coats and get some drinks.” As everyone else, including the vicar, moved through the hall, Carina lingered and gave him a shy smile. It made Jamie feel normal, not like someone in the grip of some weird fantasy about someone else. “We missed you at church today, Jamie.” To be honest, he’d only been going in order to see her, but 53

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thought it might sound too devious to say. “Too much to do, Carina. To get ready for this get together. Glad you’re here, though.” She said nothing, but colored up in an attractive way. And, astonishingly, Jamie suddenly thought she might have that look, the one girls got sometimes. If they were too drunk to realize it was him anyway. The look that said, You may kiss me now, and I won’t object and, in fact, I may even like it if your luck’s really in. By some miracle, the hall was empty of people. Should he go for it? Yes. No. Yes, he should. So, keeping a close eye on her to check for any negative responses, Jamie moved nearer and in a few seconds their heads were only inches apart. He was just about to kiss her when… “Carina?” “Dad?” His partner-in-crime jumped away from his approaching lips. “Yes, I was just talking to Jamie here. I’m coming now.” She scuttled away into the safety of the house, and Jamie turned round to face the vicar’s accusing stare. “We were just talking, John, that’s all.” Jamie stuffed his hands into his pockets and then took them out again to avoid looking guilty. The vicar said nothing, though, with the expression on his face, he didn’t need to. After a few moments, he stalked off in the direction of where everyone was gathered, and Jamie followed him, wondering if the church now objected to all relationships, or whether it was only him. By the time one o’clock had arrived, everyone his father and Mary had thought to invite had turned up. Some of them he was sure he’d never seen before. People had already moved out into the 54

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Indian summer heat of the garden and were strolling round the pond or admiring the willow trees scattered along the river at the bottom. John, Carina and the Bradleys from the village shop were chattering away as if they hadn’t seen each other for years, rather than just this morning. Nick lurked on the sidelines with half a dozen or so assorted neighbors, while the ever-helpful Mary bustled in and out of the kitchen like an anxious squirrel, ready to please. Next to the old swing, David was talking to Lucy. Lucy. She was here. Jamie hadn’t seen her arrive. How had she sneaked in without him noticing? Maybe David or one of the others had seen her coming and let her in. He felt sick and realized his hands were shaking. Almost dropping the glass of beer he was holding, Jamie tried to stroll across to her, but it ended up as more of a rabbit-like hop. “Lucy, glad you could make it.” “I did say I might, Jamie.” “Sure, but you can never tell, can you?” Without thinking, he glanced round to see if Carina was looking. But no, she was on the other side of the garden near the bench where his father was sitting, her back to Nick, who was shuffling from one foot to the other. What was up with him? “Looking for someone?” David asked, gazing in Nick’s direction. “No. Just making sure everyone’s okay.” “Looks like they are, but I might just wander over and make sure. Seeing as all this is really for me, you know?” He strode across the garden toward the bench like a man in a desert who suddenly realizes the oasis might not be a mirage. Jamie wondered if Nick could cope with the onslaught on his own 55

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or if he might need help. However, Lucy laughed beside him and the decision was made. “Good day for it, isn’t it?” she said. “What?” “Oh, anything. Whatever you like, I suppose. At least David seems to think so.” “Yes. So, can I get you anything? Drink? Nibbles?” In answer, she waved her full glass under his nose. “No thanks. David poured me some wine when I came in.” As she smiled, the sun caught the highlights in her hair and Jamie almost reached out to touch her. Couldn’t he ever play it cool? For a moment, they stood in silence together. She glanced back toward the crowd of people milling next to the swing. “Beautiful garden,” she said. “Yes, it is. Dad loves it. But it’s a lot of work sometimes.” “I hadn’t marked you down as a keen gardener.” Thinking of the times his father had shouted instructions from the deck chair as to which plant was a flower and which was a weed, Jamie couldn’t blame her. Somehow, the things he ought to have known from birth as a country boy had always passed him by. “What did you have me marked down as then?” “That’s easy. Hard-working conference executive with a father he loves, but doesn’t really know what to do with, and who’s generally too busy for the nicer things in life. And according to village gossip is a good catch for the right woman as well.” Jamie choked, spitting a mouthful of beer on the grass in front of himself. Really? Was that what people round here thought? He’d had no idea. Maybe he should get himself up to the village shop more often and see what else they said about him. While he spluttered, there was a lull in proceedings before people realized 56

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he’d probably live, then carried on talking. From a distance, Carina looked as if she might come over to see what was the matter, but Nick leaned over to say something to her and she turned to him instead. Right now, that had to be a good thing. “Sorry? Was that too much?” “You’re a straight talker,” Jamie said when he could speak. “Aren’t you?” “Only recently. That’s what a few months in the Suffolk health service does for you.” Jamie began to laugh. After a few seconds, she joined him. “Another drink?” he said, deciding to push whatever temporary advantage he had. This time she smiled. “Sure.” In the kitchen, Mary was busy putting more food on trays, while David, leaning heavily against a nearby cupboard, was watching her. “Mary, you’re great, but you ought to go outside, get some food yourself, have a good time,” said Jamie. “I should be doing this stuff.” “Oh, don’t worry, dear. I’m fine. I’m just finishing off here and I’ll take these sandwiches out to your father. You get yourself back to the party. And David, too. I think he needs some fresh air.” At the mention of his name, David snorted a laugh and waved his empty glass in Jamie’s direction. “Any chance of you opening some red? It’s good for your heart, you know.” He sounded okay, but Jamie paused before taking a bottle of Bordeaux from the rack, opening it and passing it to him. “I thought you were on the white.” “No reason not to try a change.” He grinned and looked as if he were about to add something else, but Jamie grabbed a bottle from 57

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the fridge and made to head back to the garden and the tantalizing Lucy. He only hoped Carina would forgive him. “Jamie! Jamie, wait!” “Yes?” “While you’re going through, dear, could you take the vol-auvents out? David and I will follow with the rest in a moment.” “No problem.” Once outside, the heat was cleaner, more refreshing compared to the mugginess of the kitchen. Glancing across the garden, Jamie could see Lucy had moved into the throng of people and was kneeling down and chatting to his father. What was he telling her? Jamie hoped it would be something good for once. About him. “Great. Food!” Carina broke away from Nick and came bounding up, smiling and blushing at the same time. “Hungry?” he asked, and she nodded. “Good. You can be my first taster then.” “Did you make all this? You are clever.” Shrugging, he endeavored to look modest and clever at the same time. He might even have gotten away with it, but Lucy’s arrival, along with the others, burst his bubble. “Don’t believe him, Carina,” she whispered. “I suspect the food has more to do with Mrs. Prentice and David than Jamie.” “Oh, no, I can’t believe that!” Carina protested. “It’s true. I’m sure of it,” she said. “Jamie?” “Lucy’s right,” he had to admit. “But I know I could cook if I had to. It’s just a matter of following recipes, isn’t it?” The two women looked at each other and giggled, and Lucy began to help his father to the cold meats. It was good to have someone else deal with Dad for a change, so Jamie didn’t object. He simply watched her and wondered. By now, everyone had 58

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gathered round the food like vultures to a fresh corpse and all were pretending to consider what they might like and whether they could, in fact, have anything at all. This was something only the English could do—stand next to tables of food and take things only to seem polite. Why couldn’t they all just get on with it? Wasn’t that what parties were for? Helping Carina to some vol-au-vents that might have been chicken, but could have been anything, Jamie stepped back and bumped into Nick, who gave him a venomous glare. What was wrong? He’d remembered to pay him, hadn’t he? “Hello, Nick, can I help you to something?” David’s voice chimed into his consciousness, and Jamie realized his friend was clutching an empty wine glass again and leering—yes, leering was the word to describe it—at Nick. For God’s sake, couldn’t he give it a break? Couldn’t he tell when he wasn’t welcome? “No, thanks,” Nick said, looking like a startled Harry Potter again, and Carina giggled. “What? No sandwiches? Cold chicken? Quiche?” David asked, with each word taking one not-too-steady step toward the poor bloke. Nick shook his head, backing away in ratio to David’s advance. “I…I’m not hungry.” David opened his mouth to reply, but Jamie stepped between the hunter and his prey before things could get nasty. “Look, if Nick says he’s not hungry, then he’s not hungry. Why don’t you have something? There’s plenty to go round.” “But I…” “And come and talk to Mary. She wants to hear how you’re doing in your new flat.” He steered David away from Nick, giving Carina a shrug. 59

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Out of earshot of the crowd, Jamie grabbed his arm and swung David around to face him. “What do you think you’re doing? Nick’s only nineteen, for God’s sake.” “Hey, it’s a party. I was just trying my luck. And he’s old enough to know his own mind, isn’t he?” “Maybe, maybe not.” Jamie realized he was raising his voice and tried to cool it and breathe slowly. “All I’m saying is don’t harass him. Not in this house.” “I’m not bothering anybody. And why not in this house? Why are you the guardian of the young all of a sudden?” “I’m not. I’m just saying…” “Are you two okay?” Jamie spun round to see Lucy, her eyes dancing in amusement. “Not a tête-à-tête, is it?” “No, it isn’t.” “You needn’t sound so bloody convinced about it.” David managed to look insulted, and Lucy laughed. “I don’t think he’s your type,” she said to David. That was a relief to know, but Jamie could have done with more of an affirmation of straightness from this goddess on legs right then. “I just came across,” she went on, this time to Jamie, “to say your father wants some chutney and I have no idea where it is. He didn’t seem sure either.” “Okay, I’ll get it. Just make sure you keep David out of trouble.” He tried to say the last part sotto-voce, but his Latin mustn’t have been up to scratch. “I’m not trouble,” David said, looking hurt. “I’m…” “Please, Lucy?” Jamie said, ignoring him. She rolled her eyes, but took hold of David’s arm and led him toward the swing. 60

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On the way to the house, Jamie crossed through several conversations about shopping, Christmas and his father’s experiences during the war. This last one he’d heard countless times, so he simply smiled and tried to side step the issues. But he’d already been spotted. “You see I wasn’t even Jamie’s age when I joined up, you know. Just a teenager, as they call them nowadays. Young men were different then. Tougher, whereas now they—” “True, true,” Mary agreed. “Young men today would never be able to do what they had to do then. Do you know, I—” “They spend all their days sitting down and pretending they’re working so hard. But they—” “I despair of young people sometimes. They have no manners to speak of and—” “…never like getting their hands dirty and would never be able to survive real physical labor. It’s just all—” “…never give up their seats for a lady on the bus any more. Or open doors for you, so I don’t—” “…staring at a computer and making phone calls to people I’ve never heard of, and you never see any money for it from one month’s end to another. It’s—” “…know what this generation is coming to, really I don’t.” “…not a proper job, not to my mind it isn’t.” Standing in front of his father, Jamie realized the buzz of chatter had stopped and he tried to keep smiling and stop his hands clenching together. Somebody sniggered. But Dad said nothing. He just looked up and coughed. “Which chutney would you like?” Jamie asked him. In the kitchen, he opened all the cupboards, banging the doors and swearing as he tried to find the elusive chutney. Really, he 61

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hated the stuff. But great timing, Dad. Yeah, fantastic. So sorry I don’t do a proper job like Mark does. Finally, in desperation, he opened the cupboard where he kept his father’s tablets, burrowed through the contents just to see if Mary might have hidden the chutney there in a vague moment, and his hand closed around an unfamiliar shape. Bringing it into the harsh light of day, he saw it was a box of aspirins. Out of date and full. Well, that was the last thing they wanted around here. Couldn’t have Dad or Mary getting confused one day and… Jamie paused in the act of opening the swing bin and his notyet-written hit list flashed into his mind. With his father’s name on the top. You could do this. Really. You could do it now. Don’t be stupid. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t try to murder his own father and certainly not here in front of all these people milling around the place like so many unpaid, independent witnesses. Could he? God, no, it would be madness. Anyway, Lucy was right. Jamie loved the old bugger in spite of everything, though sometimes he wished he didn’t. Besides aspirin never killed anyone. He’d have to give someone hundreds of the damn things before they would even feel remotely sleepy. Or they’d have to be pretty far gone even before they started packing them in. As his father had never been drunk or drugged in his life—as far as Jamie knew—it would of course never work. But what would happen if he…tried something? Only an experiment, that was all; something to block the memory of what his father had said. Something to make himself feel better. Without pausing to think any more, Jamie opened the seal on the box, grabbed a pint glass from the dishwasher and some 62

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lemonade from the fridge. That was fizzy enough, so anything fizzy added to it wouldn’t make much difference. With shaking hands, he filled the glass and started crushing the small white pills into the liquid, which spat and foamed sea-grey with each addition. Now that felt good. He felt powerful and in control. Almost. This was crazy, but it was fun. He could sense laughter welling up inside and wondered, for a moment, what would happen if he actually took the evil concoction out to his father in front of everyone and said it was a chutney alternative and would he like to taste it. The thought made him double up with laughter. What on earth would everyone say if…? “Jamie?” “What?” He swung round, gasping for breath, still holding the glass in his hand, and came face to face with David. “You okay?” His friend didn’t look it. He swayed against the cupboard, slid his wine glass along the draining board like a Wild West barman and took a long drag from the cigarette in his hand. A cigarette? A joint, more like, from the smell of it. “What’s so funny? And what the hell is that drink?” “That’s a joint, isn’t it? Put it out, for God’s sake. Dad hates anything to do with drugs.” “Never mind that. I’m thirsty,” he simpered. “Is it a cocktail or something? Bet you it’s lethal.” Before Jamie could stop him, David snatched the glass from his hand and drank it dry in less time than it took Jamie to launch himself at his friend, grab it back, peer at the dregs at the bottom and curse. “Bloody hell,” he said, holding onto David in case he fell. “Language, Jamie.” David wagged one finger at him and stubbed out his joint in the sink. “You know your father hates it.” 63

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Then he belched. “Whoops, s-sorry. But that’s horrible. I don’t think you should give that to people at all. Can I have some more wine instead?” “David, are you feeling all right? I don’t think you should be— ” “Hey”—his friend leaned in toward him and Jamie got the full blast of his dosed-up breath—“you making a pass or something?” Dropping him as if he were holding hot coals, Jamie realized someone was watching them from the doorway. “Jamie?” It was Carina, staring wide-eyed at the scene. “Carina, hi,” he said, trying to sound as if a wrestling match in the kitchen with an old friend was something that happened every day. “Glad you’re here. Can I get you anything?” As he spoke, Jamie slipped the glass into the sink so she couldn’t see it. “No, no. I just came in to see if I could help at all. Is he all right?” “Sure he is. Just drank a bit too much is all. You’re okay, aren’t you, David? David?” His friend made a retching noise like a cat about to unleash a fur-ball and lurched toward the doorway. Jamie took comfort in the fact he was still standing. “Are you sure?” Carina said as David brushed past her into the hallway. “I could just go and…” “No, Carina. I’ll sort it out. You go and get Lucy, would you? Please?” She looked for a moment like she might object to this dismissal, but the expression on Jamie’s face must have convinced her. Running out of the door, she headed to the garden. He headed 64

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for the bathroom. “David?” He knocked, but there was no answer. “David? You okay?” The sound of retching told him all he needed to know and Jamie swore again. “Is everything all right in here? I saw my daughter run out into the garden. What’s happened? I hope you don’t think that—” Before the vicar could get started on his sermon, Lucy ran in, with Carina close behind. If Jamie had murdered David after all, it looked like he might as well sell tickets for it. “What’s up?” Lucy said. “Carina said David was ill.” “Yes, he’s in here, but I don’t know what’s happening.” He knocked on the door again, but no response came. “Don’t worry. I think he might just have drunk a bit much. Not to mention the—” Lucy stopped speaking when she caught sight of John. In other circumstances, Jamie would have given anything to hear her finish the sentence. The next moment, David opened the bathroom. He was swaying precariously and wiping his mouth. “Now, come back into the bathroom and sit down,” Lucy said. “John, could you fetch some water?” The vicar scuttled off, and Carina, looking as if she didn’t know what to do, followed him. Supported by Lucy and Jamie, David staggered back into the bathroom. The smell of sick was overwhelming, and, as David settled himself onto the toilet seat, Jamie opened the window. “How are you?” Lucy said, crouching in front of Jamie’s unintentional victim. “Do you want to be sick again?” “It doesn’t matter. I’ll never feel better again. I’m so unhappy. Everything’s gone so wrong.” David waved his hand and would 65

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have overbalanced if Jamie hadn’t caught him. He gazed at David in disbelief. His face looked yellow, haggard. Had he poisoned him just with some aspirins? But no, it had to be whatever else he’d been taking. “I think we should call an ambulance,” Jamie said, feeling the pounding of his heart against his ribs. “He’s not well and he needs help.” “Don’t be silly. You’re overreacting,” Lucy said. “It’s just the drink. And the drugs.” Drugs? Which sort? How many? And did it matter? “Yes, an ambulance,” he heard himself gabbling and wondered if his father would ever survive the shame both of having a criminal son and one who panicked when under pressure. “I mean it’s best to be safe, isn’t it? We don’t know what effect combinations of things will have. Do we?” “Well, he may be strangely susceptible for some reason, but a couple of joints, a few beers and some wine aren’t going to kill him, are they?” Jamie stared at the vicinity of Lucy’s neck, unable to meet her eyes. This was his fault. He had to tell her. It was not going to look good. She’d never want to go out with him now, if only for her own safety. “I need to tell you something. That’s not all he might have been…” Before Jamie could finish the sentence, David lurched upwards, trapping him in his grasp. With the foresight that a medical background must have given her, Lucy pushed the toilet seat up, just as David leant over, gagged again and was sick. Some of the evil-smelling product went into the toilet, but most didn’t. Jamie gagged in sympathy, and it was up to Lucy to soothe David’s forehead, mutter words of comfort and reach for a flannel. 66

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From nowhere, the doorbell rang. Who the hell was that? Great timing for a late guest. Or perhaps the vicar was already inviting witnesses to this now-disastrous party. He’d do anything to encourage the flock back to the straight and narrow. “Lucy, I need to get the door.” “Sure, go ahead. I’ll handle this.” As he edged away, his friend was sick again and this time he caught Jamie right on the trousers. “God!” he said, thinking that after this David was toward the top of his hit list. Then again, if he knew what Jamie had done, he’d be top of David’s hit list, too. “It’s not his fault,” Lucy protested. “I know, I know.” “Sorry.” David moaned. “I don’t know what was in that—” He retched again. Grabbing a towel to wipe himself down, Jamie stumbled out of the bathroom and along the hall, passing John and Carina carrying a glass of water and a J-Cloth on the way. Then he took a deep breath and opened the front door. On the threshold stood an elegant figure with dark hair and slate-blue eyes staring right into his. Taking in the familiar smile as well as the unexpected streaks of grey at the temples, Jamie opened his mouth to say something, but nothing happened. “Hello, Jamie,” this new visitor said, gazing with apparent interest at the traces of vomit on his clothes. “Is this a bad time?” It was Robert.

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CHAPTER 6 Robert Trevelyan. Jamie’s half-brother Mark’s ex-boss. Their old family friend not seen for six years. And the last person Jamie had expected ever to see again. Robert. Top of his hit list if he’d had the guts to write his name on it. Bloody hell. He should be in Japan. What was he doing here? “I’m sorry if this is a shock, but may I come in? Unless you’d prefer it if I went away and didn’t come back?” Yes. No. He didn’t know. “Who is it?” This was from his father who must have wandered in from the garden. Great, Jamie thought, he’s going to hear David being sick and ask what’s wrong. He held his breath, but there was silence from the bathroom. Lucy must have sorted it out, or they’d both died. 68

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Right now, either solution suited Jamie. “It’s Robert,” he said, utterly unable for some reason to take his eyes off the man in question. “Robert?” He heard his father shuffle up the hall toward them. “Robert! Robert Trevelyan. We haven’t seen you for years, not since…since…” “Since Christmas, 1993. No, my mistake…Easter, 1994,” Robert said. “Well, Jamie, let him in then. Don’t stand at the door. Come in!” His father brushed past, took hold of Robert’s arm and chivvied him inside. As they went by, Jamie caught a faint hint of herbal aftershave and breathed it down, swallowing. Shutting the door, he stared at the two men as they walked, already deep in conversation, toward the living room. As Robert stepped forward and opened the door, Jamie could hear the faint hum of the other guests still in the garden acting as a choral background to the sudden burst of laughter that he recognized as Mary’s. Just before the door closed on them both, Robert glanced back at him once. Then it was quiet. Drifting down the hallway, he felt nearly as sick as David must have felt. What should he do? “Jamie?” “Yes?” Glancing behind, he saw Lucy coming out of the bathroom with a fragile David in tow. A waft of talc filled the air around them. He was alive. That was at least something. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Anyone interesting at the front door?” “No. Just an old family friend. Nobody important. Is David all right?” 69

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“Sure. No need to call an ambulance or anything so dramatic.” “Great, that’s great.” He nodded, and started to back away. “You seem to have it all under control, so I’ll just go and see what’s happening in the garden.” “And what is happening in the garden?” “Nothing. Nothing at all.” He snapped out of whatever it was that had taken hold of him for a moment. “David, do you want to go home? I can take you if you like. You can’t drive like that.” “I don’t…want to cause any more trouble,” he muttered. “Sorry, I don’t know what happened in there.” “No, don’t worry, Jamie.” Lucy smiled. “It’s very sweet of you, but you stay here. I’ll take David home and make sure he’s all right.” “Okay.” “If you could just give my apologies to your father?” Jamie nodded, and the two of them helped David hobble down the hallway and outside into Lucy’s red Fiesta. As soon as they were out of sight, he made his way into the garden. It all looked calm. Robert wasn’t there. People were chatting, laughing, eating and drinking. Jamie scanned the garden for his father and saw him sitting on one of the benches talking to Mrs. Bradley. “Dad?” He peered up, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Ah, it’s you. Isn’t it nice to see Robert after all these years? It’s funny how people turn up when you least expect them. I wonder if he’s been in touch with Mark at all. Though Mark would have rung to tell us the news, wouldn’t he? I must ask him if he’s here for a holiday, or if it’s just business. It reminds me of when—” 70

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“Where is he?” Jamie said. “Robert, I mean.” Dad stopped in mid-flow and looked annoyed at the interruption. Mrs. Bradley drew in a sharp breath and tut-tutted; she wasn’t one of Jamie’s greatest fans. He’d once told her in an unguarded moment at the village fete how terrified he was of her daughters, and she’d never forgiven him. “I think Mary is showing him round the rose garden. Was there something you wanted to talk to him about?” When he turned the corner of the house, Jamie could see them, Robert’s tall figure next to Mary’s stocky one, heads together, admiring the bare rose bushes. “Hello,” he said. Robert said nothing in reply. “Hello, dear. We were just talking about you.” “Really? What were you saying?” Jamie wiped the sweat from his forehead with his arm. It was a warmer than expected day. “Just talking about old times, when we were all much younger.” “Yes, the university years.” This was from Robert, and Jamie watched the slow smile lighting his face. “You remember them, don’t you? Best days of your life. So I’m told.” “Oh no, dear, isn’t that supposed to be schooldays? I don’t like to remember them too much, not at my age. It’s amazing to think that…” Mary chattered on, but Jamie wasn’t listening. “I need to…” He stopped, not knowing what should follow. “What, Jamie?” Trying to gain perspective, Jamie took several paces back and impaled himself on the thorns of the nearest rosebush. “Shit,” he said, as pinpricks of pain shot through his legs. “Sorry.” 71

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“Are you all right?” Mary fussed around like a nurse with a dying patient. “You poor boy, what a dreadful thing to happen.” Robert started to laugh. Of the two reactions, he didn’t know which was least welcome. “Now then,” his would-be caregiver said. “You shouldn’t laugh at poor Jamie, really you shouldn’t.” “I know. I’m sorry, Mary, but it is funny.” “I’m fine, please don’t make a fuss.” “Are you sure, dear? Because I can get some water.” “No. I’ll be fine. Thank you.” “Or would you prefer a beer? Yes, let me get you a beer. You’ve nothing to drink.” She bustled off, happy to have a useful purpose. Robert stopped laughing. “Look,” he said, “I’m not here to—” “Jamie?” His father’s voice came quavering into his ears, and Jamie turned to see him appear from around the side of the house. “Are you all right? Mary said you were hurt? And I haven’t seen David and Lucy in a long time. Do you know where they are?” *

*

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After trying to understand the convoluted explanations Jamie made up about the disappearing subject of their party and after saying goodbye to all the guests, including Carina, Dad was exhausted. But not exhausted enough to want the long-lost Robert to leave as well. “Robert, it’s so good to see you again after all this time,” he said, clutching a cup of steaming tea in his hands. “Jamie, we should have lit a fire, but it’s too late now. Put the heating up, would you? After this lovely day we’ve had, it’s turned cold.” 72

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He obeyed and then sat down again. It wasn’t actually that cold anyway, but his father always seemed to feel that it was. Whatever the time of year. “What have you been up to?” his father asked Robert. “And why haven’t you been in touch at all? Mark and I wrote and phoned all those years back, but you never replied. Did you move? Are you still in Japan? Was everything all right? Have you been ill?” Only Jamie’s father could imagine that someone could be so ill for six years that this could be a valid reason for not contacting anyone. “Yes, I’m sorry,” Robert said. “I never meant for that to happen. I meant to get in touch again after a while, but I…I didn’t.” “Were you ill?” his father asked again. “No, not exactly.” “Well, what then?” “Dad,” Jamie interrupted, “maybe Robert doesn’t want to discuss his reasons.” “No, it’s all right. I wasn’t ill. It was just that several things happened at work and in my personal life and I needed to get away. Dramatic, I know, but it did the trick. I’m fine now.” To Jamie’s surprise, Dad chuckled. “Ah, women trouble. It gets the best of us. I see, I see.” “Yes, that’s right,” Robert said after an almost unnoticeable pause. “But I’m sorry it rebounded on you and the family. And I’m sorry I never answered any of your letters or calls. Though, as I moved house after going back to Japan without leaving any forwarding details, I suspect I didn’t receive them all. But I realize that’s no excuse.” 73

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Dad shook his head and sighed. “Never mind,” he said. “The main thing is you’re here now and it’s very good to see you after all this time. I’m sure Jamie agrees. Are you going to be staying long? Are you still working over there?” “Yes,” Robert said, sitting back in his chair for the first time. “I’ve still got the business. Much as it was when Mark left to set up his firm. Although it’s grown since then.” “Is it still that funny…what do you young people call it? Computers?” “The Internet. Yes, it’s still the same. But I’m more into web design now; it’s very lucrative.” “Web design?” Jamie’s father echoed, without much enlightenment. Mind you, Jamie couldn’t blame him; he thought the web was good for business, but his own actual design skills were minimal. “Yes, I help firms set up their web sites to attract trade, that sort of thing.” “I see.” There was another pause, during which Jamie could tell his father was struggling to find something relevant to say concerning a side of life about which he knew nothing. He glanced at Jamie, who simply smiled. “And what about you, Jamie?” “What?” He jumped at the shock of being addressed and spilt his drink in the process. What was the matter with him today? “No, don’t worry, Dad. I’m fine. Really I am.” “You ought to be more careful. I don’t know why you’re so clumsy all of a sudden.” “It’s nothing.” In silence, he tried to soak up the worst of the mess with a 74

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nearby tissue. When he’d finished, Robert repeated the question. “Me? I’m great. Great. Couldn’t be better.” “Good, I’m glad to hear it, but I meant work-wise. How’s the business?” “I’m very happy with it, thanks. It’s good, expanding. I’ve done some small-scale London conferences and I’m trying to push out into getting something bigger on my CV. I just need a lucky break and I’ll be there.” “Yes, poor Jamie,” Dad cut in. “He tries his best, but it doesn’t seem to get him very far. Some people have the gift, like Mark, and others just don’t. He’s been having trouble with his accounts and…” “Dad!” “What is it?” He looked upset at the interruption, and Jamie closed his eyes for a second. “I’m fine and it’s all going well. You know that, I’ve told you before.” “Yes, but—” “I’m sure Jamie knows what he’s doing.” Robert’s voice carried over theirs and won the day. “He always seems very much in control. Or at least he did when we last met.” Jamie sprang up and stacked the mugs onto the tray. Then he strode over to the window and stared out at the peaceful garden. Behind him, Dad spoke first. “And are you doing any Internetting in England, Robert?” “Why should you think that?” Jamie said, turning around and leaning back against the sill. “I’m sure Robert’s happy enough in Japan. There must be plenty of work out there. Isn’t that true?” “Yes, you’re right. There is plenty of work in Japan,” he replied. “But some of my clients have bases in the UK and I need 75

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to cater for their needs, too. A lot of what I do doesn’t require an office as such, but people like to know where you are.” “Don’t you like Japan?” Jamie said. “Isn’t it the cutting-edge of commerce?” “Now, don’t interrupt poor Robert. Let him finish.” “I’ve decided to look for a base I can use here. Set it up with some skeleton staff, launch it and see what happens.” “In London, I suppose,” Jamie said. Robert shook his head. “No, too pricey, and not an area I know that well. No, I’ve narrowed it down to three or four properties outside London.” “Outside London?” “Yes. Two of them are in this area. In Colchester, as a matter of fact. I’ve taken a short-term let in the Lexden area to give myself enough time to do the deal and set it all up. I reckon it’ll take six months or so. Minimum.” “Colchester?” Jamie repeated, and sat down again. “That’s wonderful,” Dad said. “There’s a chance we’ll see more of you then.” “Perhaps, Mr. Chadwick.” Robert smiled in Jamie’s direction and raised one eyebrow. “I did think it was a good opportunity to look up some of my old friends while I’m here. I’m hoping we can do this again very soon.”

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CHAPTER 7 “So what can I get you, Carina?” “I’d love a white wine, please. Thank you.” Jamie smiled down at her as she sat at his favorite corner table at the pub and then made his way to the bar to put their orders in. Tuesday night at last, and he was glad he’d made use of the spare time on Sunday after the garden party to phone and ask her out. It felt good, even reassuring, to be here tonight. At least Michael wouldn’t be able to make any more of those caustic comments he’d been hearing around the village concerning David and himself. God, that was a frightening thought, so best not think about it. Better for his blood pressure anyway. “What’ll it be tonight then?” Michael gave him a broad grin across the bar and tried to catch 77

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his eye. but Jamie refused to play along. “A white wine and a beer, please. Draught. And a packet of peanuts as well. Cheers.” “Coming right up. I must say it’s nice to see you out and about with young Carina there. We haven’t seen you in here for a while. Not counting when you popped in to see that David. Though you weren’t here for long then, were you? He was an odd one, wasn’t he? Mary Prentice said she thought he might be artistic. Dressed funny enough for an artist. In my day, you’d never get away with wearing that get-up. You’d never—” “Yes, thanks, Michael,” he interrupted. “I’ll take those and this should cover it.” Jamie left him still muttering about the good old days, just like his father, and scuttled for safety back to Carina. “Here, one wine and some peanuts, just in case you felt peckish.” “Thanks. That’s really thoughtful of you. Dried roasted are my favorite.” “Good,” he said, congratulating himself on a lucky choice. For no apparent reason, she giggled, and he admired the way the light danced around her hair. After taking a long gulp of his drink, Jamie leant back in the chair. “You’re in your last year of sixth form, aren’t you? What’s it like? Still the same as it was in my day?” “It’s okay, but not as much fun as last year,” she replied. “There’s a lot more homework for one, and I’m dreading the exams in June.” “It’s only November.” “I know, but there’s still so much to get done. I’ve no idea how I’m going to fit it all in. Really I haven’t.” She’s far too young for me, Jamie thought, even though he 78

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really liked her. What was he doing here? Although he was only just twenty-five, he had trouble remembering anything about the A-level years. Too much other stuff had happened afterwards. Way too much stuff. But one thing he could remember was the sinking panic when it came to exams. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Which subjects are you doing, anyway?” “English, Latin and History,” she chanted. “Nearly the same as mine, then. Apart from the fact I did French instead of Latin. What do you want to do when you’ve got them?” “I’ve applied to study History at London University, King’s College, but I’ll have to see how well I do. I don’t want to get my hopes up. Besides, I don’t know how guilty I’d feel if I left Dad at home. What with being on our own and everything.” Yes, he knew how that felt. And everyone also knew about John’s wife leaving her family and moving to Spain. It had been village gossip for months and it must have taken a lot of courage for the vicar to stay here. Carina had to feel more responsible for him now, but Jamie still thought in this instance she should put herself first. She didn’t want to get into his position. “Look, you shouldn’t worry about that. I know it’s hard, but you’ve got your own life to lead. Make your own decisions about what you want to do, and your father will be glad. Don’t stay because you feel you have to.” Or maybe he should just shut up. He didn’t even sound sincere, and she wouldn’t learn anything from him or his family. She must have thought that, too, because she simply smiled and then changed the subject. They spent the next ten minutes or so discussing the merits of Sartre versus Catullus, and Mérimée versus Horace. Great stuff. It 79

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made a change from thinking, sleeping and dreaming nothing but conferences. And his father, of course. Jamie couldn’t forget him. When they’d both run out of things to say, he reached out and touched her hand. “Would you like something to eat here? Michael does a mean lasagna, if you can stop him giving you the full history of it, where he got the ingredients and when it was first introduced into the county.” “Don’t be like that! Michael’s so sweet.” “Talks for Britain, though.” “He’s just being pleasant.” “Easy for you to say. You haven’t heard the rumors he’s been spreading.” “About you and David, you mean? Sorry, Jamie. I don’t believe any of it, though!” “I should hope not.” They both laughed, and Jamie took the menu from the empty table beside them and handed it to his date. She leafed through it. “Great, mushroom lasagna. I’ll think I’ll have that.” As he got up, Carina opened her handbag and reached inside. “No, please, my treat,” he said. “Really? That’s very kind of you,” she said, blushing, and Jamie took out his wallet. As he stood up, the pub door opened and two figures entered, bringing with them a bitter taste of the cold night air. One of them was Lucy. And behind her was David. Jamie could see Michael pause in his glass-wiping routine and give David a searching glance. He looked like a defending sheriff eyeing up the local cattle-rustler. Apparently finding nothing there to worry him just yet, he picked up his tea towel again and carried 80

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on. Wondering whether he should say hi or not, bearing in mind he was with Carina, and Lucy and David…well, goodness knows what they were doing… Jamie hesitated, but in any case, Carina had already spotted their entrance. “Look. Look who it is.” She leaned over and waved at them. “Hello! Lucy, we’re over here.” Lucy glanced round at the sound of her name yelled across the almost empty pub, saw them and gave them both a broad grin. Something inside Jamie lurched to attention. She nudged her companion, and the two of them began to walk towards the table. Although David was dragging his heels and gazing anywhere but where he was heading. “Lucy, it’s lovely to see you,” Carina said, hugging her. “Out for the night, are you?” “Sort of. David rang to say he needed cheering up, so I suggested a drink.” Jamie pulled up a chair for Lucy and gestured for David to sit as well. He shuffled his feet and only sat down when Lucy gave him a sharp glance. “It’s a lovely surprise,” Carina went on after a slight pause. “Jamie and I were just about to have some supper, but we… well, we were going to have it on our own, and…” “Don’t worry, you still can.” Lucy leaned over the table, pinioning Jamie with those eyes like a fish on a hook. “I’m here on an errand of mercy. David wanted to see you, Jamie, to apologize, but he’s been too embarrassed to do anything apart from moan at me for the last couple of days. Which has been driving me insane. And as I know you men never phone anyone socially, I thought the best thing to do was drag him down here and confront you face-to81

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face. We did try at your house, but your father said you were at the pub. So here we are.” Jamie stared at David. He stared back. “Look, don’t worry about it,” Jamie said. “Just forget it. This sort of thing happens to everyone. Don’t beat yourself over the head about it.” “There you are,” Lucy said, punching David on the arm in a friendly way. “I told you he’d be okay about it, and you were worrying about nothing. Isn’t he, Jamie?” As he’d all but murdered David with that ruddy aspirin, Jamie couldn’t agree it was nothing, but he couldn’t say that. So he nodded, all the while hoping to keep his own stupidity quiet. “Wonderful.” Lucy sat back and looked as if she’d done a good day’s work and done it well. “In that case, Carina, I think a fiveminute session in the ladies’ to powder our noses would be the right thing to do at this point. David, you’re on your own. For goodness sake, say something.” Before Jamie could understand what she was up to, Lucy took an unresisting Carina off in the direction of the ladies’ and he was left to face his unlikely would-be victim. Who was still not meeting his eyes. “Drink?” David asked. “Thanks, mine’s a bitter.” He trotted off to the bar and was back in no time with one bitter and what looked like a rum and Coke. How could people drink that stuff? It was disgusting. “Cheers,” Jamie said, determined to be as normal as he could without talking about what had happened, in case David remembered what he’d done. He knew if that happened, he’d never be able to explain it. Ever. 82

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“Cheers.” Lost without the women, the awkward silence stretched out to infinity, and they both shuffled on their seats. Jamie kept smiling until his teeth hurt, and David simply looked more and more uncomfortable. Around them, the smell of smoke and beer filled the air. “Well,” Jamie said. “Yes, well.” “This is great, but…” “Jamie, I’m sorry I wasn’t too good at the party. I don’t know what got into me. I hadn’t had anything I can’t normally handle…if you see what I mean. ” “It’s okay, so just forget it. No-one’s bothered, least of all me,” he gabbled, rocking with his hands trapped under his legs, back and forth, back and forth. “No, I haven’t finished yet.” “Don’t feel you have to say any more.” “No, please, there’s something I have to say.” He held up one manicured hand to stop Jamie talking. “When I was in the kitchen with you, I…” “Don’t worry about it, David. Please. I’m sure you can’t remember much about it anyway.” “But I can. At least I think I can. And I do need to talk to you about what happened.” Oh, God. “When we were in the kitchen, I…” What? What? “I got the impression…” For God’s sake, just say it. “That something happened whereby…” 83

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‘Whereby’? What sort of evil sadist uses the word ‘whereby’ these days? Why was David tormenting him like this? “I, well, I…” Just say it, say it, won’t you? Jamie would confess everything he’d secretly thought he might do to his unsuspecting father rather than go through this agony. “I tried to make a pass at you and I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you, especially when you were being kind. About the party and everything. So I’m sorry. Friends?” Jamie blinked and stared at David. He found he couldn’t speak. He tried to reorient his assumptions to what his friend was saying. “There was something else, though, if I could just bring it to mind,” David mused. “I can’t remember what caused me to…” “It doesn’t matter,” Jamie said, finally finding the power of speech again. “Really. It’s all history. Don’t even think about it. Please.” Where on earth were the girls when they needed a diversion? He had to do something to shut David up. Anything. So, pushing back his chair, he half stood up and flung his arms around his friend. This was the heart-warming sight that greeted Carina and Lucy as they came out of the ladies’ toilets.

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CHAPTER 8 David and Lucy left after that, Lucy still giggling and wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. No matter how much she’d enjoyed herself, the whole scene had put a dampener on the date for Jamie. He couldn’t even remember afterwards what he’d eaten. After seeing Carina to the vicarage and saying goodnight, he walked away without even a second glance. It was only when he arrived home that he realized he hadn’t kissed her. Or even tried to. God, what sort of a bloke was he? He spent the rest of the night worrying about the meaning of that question. And other matters. The lack of sleep didn’t help his mood the next day in the office. But he wasn’t alone; Nick had all the breeziness of a bloodhound on chamomile and did no more than grunt when he 85

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walked in. After half an hour sorting through the accounts, Nick coughed and said, “Is Carina well, then?” “What?” Jamie was distracted by the peculiarities of PowerPoint when doing complicated presentations and wasn’t prepared for a conversation of any sort. Nick repeated the question. “Sure. Why?” He shrugged. “No reason. Just heard you might have seen her, that’s all.” Bloody Michael, Jamie thought. If The King’s Head weren’t the only pub in Limewater, he’d take his business elsewhere, for certain. “I did. Last night.” Unsure where this was going, he sneaked a glance at Nick. His young colleague’s head couldn’t have been any lower on his chest if he’d stapled it there. Oh, Jamie thought, he’s sweet on her and I’m the evil bastard standing in his way. What a week this was turning out to be. He’d better say something to try to ease the knife-sharp atmosphere in here before they both imploded. “That okay?” But he’d gone too far. Nick blushed, mumbled something inaudible and buried himself back in his work. *

*

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By the afternoon, Jamie had just got on top of the presentation he needed to prepare when the phone rang. Nick answered it, but after a few moments, he handed the receiver over. “I-I think they need to speak to you direct,” he said. 86

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“Sure.” He took the phone. “Hello, Jamie Chadwick here. May I help you?” “I hope so,” a woman’s stern voice answered, and, from instinct, he sat up straighter. “I’m from the Institute of Commercial Accountants. I’m trying to get a variety of quotes for organizing a conference we’re hoping to hold next summer, and one of my contacts has recommended you. Might you be interested at all?” Would he? Too right he would; they were big. Bigger and more influential than the companies he worked for at the moment. Bigger than he’d ever hoped might happen. As he listened, Jamie could feel his pulse beginning to race and his face grew hot. This would be a major breakthrough if he could run an event for them, or even be part of running an event for them. If he carried that off, it would be one for his PR literature, no question. If only he had any. He took down the details and promised her he’d come back with a plan of what he could do within two days. When he got off the phone, the adrenaline was doing its work. “Good news?” Nick smiled. “With a bit of luck and maneuvering.” Jamie grinned back, all the difficulties of the morning forgotten, and told him what she’d said. “If I can get that one, cash flow will be fantastic for weeks. And it’ll look great on the business CV. Seems like they might want a lot from the web as well. Not my strong point, so I suppose I’ll have to learn. But I need to plan it first. There’s a hell of a lot to do.” He spent the rest of the day telephoning hotels, caterers, large venues and anyone else he could think of who might be able to help. He also mugged up a presentation pack on the computer, which he thought they would like. It was going to be a one-day event, but he would have a lot of people to impress. He had to have 87

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the best support, the best presentations, and enough of it to do the best job. Was he up to it? At the end of the day, Jamie sat back and groaned. It was no good. It simply wasn’t enough, and he knew it. What he had was fine in itself, but it didn’t have the wow factor when you knew— you just knew— you’d got it right. Downstairs, he cooked sausages fresh from the local butcher, his father’s favorite meal, and they ate them together in silence. When he’d cleared away the first course, Jamie drew the curtains and put some Bach on the CD. Not his choice, but Dad liked it. Jamie’s mind was drifting anywhere and everywhere when he realized his father had asked him something and he’d blanked him. “Sorry?” “I was just asking you if you were feeling well. You seem so distracted. Is everything all right at work? I know things have been difficult, but…” “Things haven’t been difficult, Dad. You know that,” he replied, idly wondering whether in his fantasy world his father would be prepared to accept the taste of aspirin in his coffee after all. “You’re so stubborn, always looking on the good side.” “I hope so,” he said, knowing that wasn’t true. Not really and not any more. “And now I’ve even more reason to be happy. I’ve had some good news today.” “I’m glad to hear it,” Dad said, popping another spoonful of strawberry yoghurt into his mouth. “What is it?” Jamie told him. His father didn’t understand, but he admired his willingness to try. When he’d finished considering the explanation, he waved his napkin in the air a few times to indicate the proximity of a question, and Jamie waited for it to appear. 88

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“So if it’s all good news, young man, why are you looking like you’ve got a letter from the tax-man?” “There are parts of the project I won’t be able to do. I’ll have to get outside help from somewhere. Don’t know where just now, but I’ll think of something. I always do.” “Which parts?” “In-depth computer stuff you wouldn’t understand .” He frowned. “Well, neither do you, by the sound of it.” Touché, Jamie thought, and flinched. “Okay, I know I’m no expert, but I think I’ve a better grasp on the concepts of ecommerce, interactive web sites and customer relationship management than you do.” If he’d hoped to blind his father with technology and get him off the subject, he was disappointed. “I’m sure you do. In that case, you don’t have to worry, do you?” “Why not?” “Because if you want an expert in those strange computer things—if that’s what you’re saying, and it’s all a foreign language to me—then we already know one, don’t we?” Where on earth had his father dredged up a computer wizard from? He hardly ever left the house. Jamie sat back in the chair. “Oh? Who’s that then?” “Why, Robert, of course.” He stared at his father. “No way. There’s no way I’m going to ask him to help me. It would be too…too…” “Too what? And what on earth is wrong with poor Robert anyway? Why are you taking up against him so?” Jamie didn’t reply. He swore to himself that he would never allow a man like Robert Trevelyan to do business with him. Of any 89

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sort. *

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“Robert, it’s good to see you,” Jamie’s father exclaimed, as the man in question walked in through the living room door the following evening. “I’m pleased you were free tonight. Jamie will be so grateful you’ve come.” “It’s good to see you, too, Mr. Chadwick, and you as well, Jamie, of course,” Robert replied. “I brought some wine.” Jamie took the bottle of red he held out, avoiding his fingers, and placed it on the table. “Cheers.” “There’s no need, Robert. You’re a friend.” Dad paused before continuing. “But perhaps it would be nice to open it, Jamie?” “Sure. If you like.” Reaching for the corkscrew, he realized his hands were shaking. When Jamie glanced up, he saw Robert was looking at him. He turned his back on the pretext of dealing with the bottle. In spite of that, he could still feel Robert’s eyes boring through him like diamond cutters. Or perhaps it was just his imagination. He couldn’t tell. “I don’t know,” Dad said with a sigh, “young people today are so abrupt. I don’t know why everyone can’t be nicer to each other, do you? I’m sure I haven’t taught him to be like this, Robert. I can remember when…” “Don’t worry, Mr. Chadwick. Everyone’s under so much pressure at work these days that sometimes I’m surprised anyone can talk at all,” Robert said, moving to take the seat next to Jamie’s father. “And I can be the worst offender for that. Though, of course, you have to let people decide on their own way of 90

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behaving. They always do.” The wine Jamie was pouring splashed so hard into the first glass that some spilt onto the table and he cursed under his breath. “Language,” his father said mildly. “You can be so clumsy, you know. Sometimes I think you’re miles away most of the time.” He handed Dad a glass of wine and then gave another to Robert before sitting down opposite them with his own. Their guest broke the silence first. “It can be the best place to be, you know. When you’re trying to sort things out.” “What’s that?” Jamie’s father looked confused. “Miles away. It’s the best place to be in my experience.” “Would you like to eat now?” Jamie asked, standing up. “Now? But Robert’s only just arrived.” “Yes, but he might be hungry.” His father tut-tutted and then looked at Robert. “Are you hungry?” he asked. Robert raised both hands in a gesture of submission and smiled. “If Jamie has decided now is the best time to eat, then who am I to argue with him?” They ate. During dinner, Dad didn’t stop talking once. Not even when eating. He was happily ensconced in his favorite subject and, for once, Jamie was grateful. “Well, Robert,” he said, “you’re a busy man with an important job. As Mark is. I know you’ve both got a lot on. You know Mark was always the same as a boy. Always wanting to be first and so very bright. He could always do anything he put his mind to and he was so very dedicated. If only he hadn’t decided to go so far away to live, I’d be truly happy right now. It would be wonderful to have both my boys nearby. Wonderful. Almost like the old days 91

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when…” Jamie never remembered the old days as being that great. Trying to count the times when his father, Mark and he had got on together, as compared to the times they hadn’t, he missed Dad’s question and his father had to repeat it. “Jamie, you’ve always wanted to go to Japan, haven’t you?” He choked. “No, not really. Why would I want to go there? I’m fine where I am.” Dad put down his fork and stared at him. “But that’s not what you usually say, is it? You’re always reading out bits about Japan from the papers. Have you changed your mind again? Mind you, I can’t blame you. I always think it’s such a funny country, don’t you? Though Mark loves it. “Everyone is so much smaller than we are, and on the television there seems to be so much bowing. You wonder how they find time to get anything done. And the language is so difficult, isn’t it? How do you cope with it, Robert? Mark says he’s always learning new things about the culture. But that’s Mark all over. Interested in what’s happening in the world, he is. Not like Jamie here, who’s so wrapped up in his business, he doesn’t have time for anything else. It’s not good for him, really it isn’t.” Robert drained his wine glass and appeared to be fascinated by the pattern on his plate. Dad nodded, as if agreeing with himself, and then asked, “And how is your search for new offices coming along? That is what you are doing here, isn’t it?” “Yes, it is, Mr. Chadwick,” Robert replied. “I saw the estate agent yesterday and put in an offer. It’s only a matter of time now.” “Good, good. I suppose you’re going to be very busy then?” 92

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“I hope so. There are a lot of arrangements to make—hiring staff, buying furniture, that kind of thing.” “I see.” He stopped talking and looked thoughtful. “Robert?” “Yes?” “May I ask you something? For Jamie’s sake?” Robert put his cutlery down. Even though he hadn’t finished. “Yes, of course.” There was something in the tone of his voice that made Jamie shift in his seat. “There’s no need for this, Dad,” he said, trying to fight a doomed-to-failure rearguard action. “Let’s just have a pleasant evening and Robert can go home.” “I’m intrigued. Do I get to know what’s going on?” “Of course, Robert. I wanted Jamie to ask you himself, seeing as it’s to do with him. Though I do have a vested interest, you know. But as he’s holding back, I’m going to have to do it myself.” “Look, Dad, I don’t think…” His father waved Jamie’s words away and carried on. “He’s had a business proposition, I think it’s called, and needs someone to do that…what is it? Whatever it is you’re so good at, Robert? Web art? Web pictures?” “Web design,” Robert provided, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “That’s it!” Dad finished in triumph. “And it’s a very important project. Will you help him if you can?” Robert said nothing for a moment, and Jamie took this as a refusal. “You see,” he said. “He’s just too busy, Dad. Don’t worry about it, Robert. I’ll find someone else.” 93

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“No, it’s not that,” he replied, a quizzical expression on his face. “It’s always good to keep my hand in on the technical side, though, of course, I’ll need to know more about it from Jamie himself before I decide, whatever it is.” Several thoughts went through Jamie’s mind as he stared at Robert. The first was his initial reaction that there was no way he could work with this man. At all. And for reasons he didn’t want to think about right now. The second was that he knew Robert was the best in his field and if he could get him to help on this project, then it would be a winner; any problems would be Jamie’s, not his. The third was the overriding need to run this conference, to prove he could do it, to prove it to himself. There was no contest. “Okay,” Jamie said quietly. “Would you please take a look at the proposal for me, Robert?” An almost imperceptible pause hung between them before the other man answered. “Yes.” *

*

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With Dad installed in front of the television and smiling like a satisfied cat, Robert and he made their way up to the office. When he opened the door, Jamie thought how shabby everything looked and made a mental note to be more organized. Robert, however, made no comment, but brushed past him and strolled into the centre of the room. The sudden physical contact between them made Jamie catch his breath, but Robert didn’t appear to notice. He turned slowly, taking in the look of the place, while Jamie watched him. 94

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“You still have the pictures, then,” he said. “What?” “The Japanese pictures I bought for you. You still have them.” “Any reason why I shouldn’t?” Jamie asked him. “I like them.” “No. No reason at all.” Breaking Jamie’s gaze, Robert wandered over to the window, hands in pockets. “It’s a good set-up,” he said. “Everything you need right here. Ideal.” “Yes. Just wish Dad would let me have more room, but at the moment I suppose there’s no real need.” Jamie coughed and began to gather together the paperwork for the project. “You’ll want to look at the remit then,” he said. “First of all, the Institute needs—” “No, not yet.” “Sorry?” He stared at Robert and found him gazing at the pictures again. Behind his back, Jamie picked up the Financial Times and put it in the drawer. “I don’t want to look at the remit right now.” “Why ever not?” Jamie said, stepping away. “I thought you came up here to find out about the project.” “Yes, in a while. Don’t get me wrong. But before I make a decision on anything specific, I need to get an overview. Tell me more about what you do.” Jamie almost laughed. “God, Robert, you make it sound like big business. Though it is for me. But if you think it’ll help?” “It’ll be good background, but mainly I’m interested for myself.” He pulled out Nick’s chair and made himself comfortable, leaving Jamie standing like a schoolboy in the middle of the room. “So,” he went on, picking up one of Jamie’s cards and studying it with a smile. “JC Conferences.” “What’s wrong with that?” 95

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“Nothing. I like the name. It’s snappy, modern. Look, why don’t you sit down?” Jamie grabbed a chair. “Right, okay. What would you like to know?” Another fractional pause. “Everything,” he said. So Jamie told him. He told him about the hours he spent working out the conference programs, bullying local designers to produce them in the numbers and quality he thought acceptable, sweet-talking hotels into doing what he wanted them to, getting the cut-price deals for the clients he wanted to keep and the not-so-cutprice deals for the ones he didn’t. He told Robert about the thrill of selling to any business he could find out about with more than fifty people in it, about how sometimes the phone would be non-stop and he’d reach the end of the day shattered, but still with that buzz which kept him going. He told him about the times spent in London either overseeing the deal or checking out other venues, scrutinizing the state and size of the rooms and the quality of the catering, and, most important of all, watching how the staff treated people. Jamie was only as good as the available staff, and he knew it. That was why it was so vital to see for himself what they were like, without necessarily letting them know who he was. And all the while Robert listened as no-one else could, nodding at the right places and asking questions to clarify a point here and there. It was good to talk about the business, his business, in such detail. When Jamie got to the part where he told him that sometimes he pretended to be a demanding customer just to see how the venue staff would handle it, Robert exploded into laughter. 96

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“Why does that not surprise me?” “What do you mean?” When Robert was able to speak again, he said, “I can just see you storming into an unsuspecting hotel and letting rip with that temper of yours. God help them, I hope you pick up the pieces afterwards.” “I don’t have a temper.” “Nonsense. All redheads have a temper.” “I don’t.” “You used to.” He stopped laughing and Jamie handed him the papers he wanted to see. “Now this is the remit,” he said. “Most of it I can do myself. Sure, it’s bigger than I’ve dealt with before, but I’ve got the contacts and the expertise they need. But the website, well, that’s the catch. I’ve tried to sketch out some initial ideas.” “Good. Show me.” He passed over his first thoughts. Robert looked at them without a word as Jamie tried to give the whole picture to their old family friend. “Hang on and let me think for a moment,” Robert said, so Jamie shut up and watched as he flicked over the pages. “You should be pleased. For someone who hasn’t got much beyond the first level of expertise with an interactive website, it’s not bad at all.” “Cheers, thanks. I didn’t think …” Jamie began, but Robert hadn’t finished yet. “However, you need a lot better and more sophisticated proposal than this. You’re right, it’s a big project and it needs some ideas to match. This is fine as far as it goes, but it won’t get you 97

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the deal.” Jamie leaned forward, chin on hands. “I want this, Robert. It’ll be the next step on and if I lose it, I might not get another chance. News travels fast in this field.” “News always travels fast. In any business.” “Sure, I know. But I have to have the overall view sorted by tomorrow soonest, and my ideas on their table by Friday. To do that, I need to have a fast-track training session with you, if you’re willing to help. I need to know enough to—” “No, I won’t do that.” “What?” Robert had left Jamie floundering. God knows, he’d always been good at that. “I won’t do it. Instead, I’ll—” “But I…” Jamie couldn’t complete the thought. Robert might as well have punched him in the stomach. It might have been better. “No, wait. You don’t understand me. What I meant was, at best, it would give you a smattering of knowledge that would barely keep your head above water and, at worst, it would mean you’d be talking rubbish to the Institute. I’ve got a better idea. Subcontract this to me and the plan will be on your desk by noon tomorrow. I can help you land this deal. Or at least I’ll give it my best try.” For a second, Jamie didn’t know what to say, then business instincts kicked in. “That’s very generous, but how much?” he asked. Robert smiled and named a price. Jamie answered with something lower. “You drive a hard bargain.” “Is that a problem?” 98

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“No.” “Good. So your answer is…?” “Done.” “Thank you.” Without thinking, Jamie stretched out a hand and Robert took it, one eyebrow raised. Robert’s skin felt warm and smooth. It was the first time they’d touched, deliberately, since the other man had returned. For several unsteady heartbeats, Jamie didn’t know if he’d be able to let go at all, but of course he had to. Just what the hell am I doing? Downstairs, Dad welcomed their arrival with a quavering smile. “And have you sorted poor Jamie out with his problems, Robert?” “Not at all, Mr. Chadwick. I don’t believe Jamie has any problems with the business. From my understanding, it’s doing very well, and you’re lucky to be in such safe hands. No, actually, I’ve just got myself some rather lucrative work by persuading your son to subcontract out a section of it to me.” “Really?” Dad sniffed, not looking as if he believed one word of it. And he wasn’t the only one taken by surprise at Robert’s interpretation. “He must be taking a leaf out of Mark’s book at last then. Well, well, would you like some port, Robert, as we seem to be celebrating? It’s my best, a very good vintage.” It certainly was, but Jamie was unsure whether his father should be drinking it. No matter what the doctor said. Still, an alcohol and drug cocktail? What a way to go. And, hey, never mind that, because if the conference turned out to be a disaster after all, maybe Jamie would try it for himself. Opening the bottle and watching the ruby liquid glug-glug its way into the waiting glasses, he was once again so busy with his own thoughts that he almost missed his father’s next words. 99

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“And while I’m thinking of it,” his father went on, “I know it might be early, but would you consider joining us here for Christmas, Robert? As you used to?”

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CHAPTER 9 Christmas with Robert? Jamie knew it was the decent thing to do or their old friend would be spending it on his own. And God help anyone in Limewater who might dare to want to be on their own at the festive season. Robert had seemed pleased when Dad had asked him, and had said he had no other plans. Still, Jamie wished his father had asked him about it first. Especially after the reaction Jamie’d had to Robert in the office. No, that was mean. His father was only trying to be sociable. But sometimes society was the last thing Jamie wanted. If only Dad could be out of the picture, even for a week, or a month, all my other difficulties would melt away like dew on a summer morning. Jamie was sure of it. He simply needed some 101

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space. Somehow. Groaning, he felt the four walls move in a little closer. So he sat up, grabbed a sheet of paper from the bedside table and wrote the following in a wild rush of emotion he couldn’t really name: JAMIE’S HIT LIST 1. My Father 2. My Father 3. My Father 4. David Fenchurch David? Where had he come from? Jamie thought he’d gotten over the shock of his friend’s arrival and revelation, but David must still be lurking there in his subconscious. Why? Then, laughing, he crumpled up the list and threw it away. It was crazy. What the hell was he going to do with it after all? Precisely nothing. But he found he couldn’t sleep and so switched the light back on and wrote a second draft. If he was going to indulge his secret serial killer fantasy, if only in his own mind, then there were others who shouldn’t be left out. 1. My Father 2. David 3. Mary (but only because if Dad disappeared, she’d want to know why) 4. Michael (unless he stops spreading those nasty rumors about me) 5. Mark Maybe he should raise Mark’s name a little higher up the list? 102

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No, he’d leave it as it was for the time being. Just because Mark was in Japan didn’t mean he was safe. Oh, no. Anyway, Jamie could always change it later when he got round to adding imaginary murder methods. Now that would be fun. Childish, but fun. With such strangely satisfying thoughts in his head, he drifted off to sleep. When he woke the next morning, the list was staring at him like judge and jury, but it made him smile. Folding the paper, he paused before sliding it under the address book. There was an obvious omission, of course, but Jamie didn’t have a clue where in the list he should go. Perhaps Robert should have a list of his own? The circumstances were different. Jamie was still considering it in the middle of the afternoon when the private home line started to ring. Knowing Dad was napping and not wanting him to wake up, he ran downstairs and answered it. “Hello?” “If it isn’t my little brother.” Mark’s drawl invaded his ear and at once Jamie felt small. How did he always manage to do that? “Not often I get the pleasure of you answering me when I call. What’s the matter? Not enough business to keep you in the office?” “Business is fine, thanks.” “Are you sure?” “What do you mean?” Jamie said, twisting the phone line round and round his hand until he was trapped by the cord. “What have you heard?” “Nothing,” he said. “It’s just that Dad was saying you were getting a temp and Robert was also helping out. But I can’t think that’s true as we haven’t heard from Robert for ages and—” 103

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“Yes, it’s true,” Jamie interrupted. “He’s doing some business in the area.” “Really? How is the old trooper?” “Okay.” He noticed the books on the shelf next to him were out of alignment and pulled one free to readjust it. “That’s all? Just okay?” “Yeah, he’s fine.” “You’re a cool customer, aren’t you?” Mark laughed. “Someone we know disappears for almost six years before arriving back on your doorstep and all you can say is he’s fine?” “Well, he is as far as I can see. If you’re that keen on knowing, why don’t you ask him yourself?” “Okay, okay. Good idea. Give him my regards and tell him to ring me sometime. But calm down first, will you?” “I am calm. And business is good. Nearly as good as yours, or so Dad keeps telling me. In fact, I’m doing very well at the moment and have more work than I can handle.” “Pleased to hear it. Can I have a word with Dad?” “Sure,” Jamie said, glad to get off the line. It was always the same where Mark and he were concerned; there was way too much competition in the ether. “The phone probably woke him.” He put the receiver down and spent a few moments untangling himself from the cord and trying not to make a noise, knowing his half-brother would be listening and taking notes for their next bout. God, Jamie had never gotten the hang of making a sharp and dignified exit, had he? Of course, once Dad knew it was Mark, he was picking up the extension almost before Jamie had finished telling him the news. Looking at his father’s face softening as he smiled into the receiver in a way that never happened when Jamie was around, he bowed 104

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out and left them to it. Upstairs, he tried to concentrate on sorting out some business papers. But it was all routine, nothing to grab him, and he began to wonder what was going to happen with Carina and him. Because that was the important issue, wasn’t it? If there was a Carina and him at all. Because he couldn’t say with all honesty that his budding relationship with the daughter of the vicar was going well. And he wanted it to so much. He was determined to put the picture of Lucy out of his head—not easy when she was his father’s regular visiting physiotherapist, but Jamie was doing his best and trying to give Carina all his attention. Still, something was missing, but he didn’t know what. Maybe he’d been right at the start and she was simply too young. They’d been out together three or four times, twice at the pub again, once for a chilly walk, followed by coffee back home, and once to see some romantic film in Colchester. Of course, she was nice. Safe. And Jamie enjoyed being with her. But there was no spark. He didn’t get the same squeezed-gut drowning-man feel that Lucy gave him when she came through the door each Tuesday and Friday. Even though in some ways he liked Carina more. He couldn’t even say hello to Lucy now without blushing and stammering like an idiot. And all the while, she was so cool and in control. Mind you, what else could she have done? It couldn’t be easy for her. More so as Jamie knew she and Carina liked each other and had already been shopping together a couple of times. That realization itself made him feel ill. What did they say? Lucy had to have picked up on how he felt about her. The question was would she tell Carina? Or should he do the decent thing and break it off first? Was this crush just a phase that would end soon? God, he thought, last year I wasn’t going out with anyone, and 105

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this year I’m obsessing about two. What a way to bring the century to a close. Would that he could do it with style. And on top of all that, Dad was still planning Christmas. With Robert. *

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“Jamie?” “Yes?” he yelled back from the office. But there was no answer, so he clattered down the stairs, heart beating fast. “What?” he said, when he reached the living room. “What is it?” “Why are you running?” his father remonstrated. “There’s no need to run everywhere, is there? But never mind. I just thought I’d let you know Mark and Allie are coming back on Christmas Eve for a week or so. Isn’t that grand?” Yes, he supposed that it was. But there was no change there. That was what they always did. It would be nice to see Allie again. And Mark as well—if only they could keep down the number of rows. Jamie listened as Dad went on, “I’ve written down their flight times and said you’d collect them from the airport. They say they’ll bring the presents with them.” From nowhere, the thought came that even Robert had managed to get himself back to Limewater after six years without any help. But collecting from airports was part of Jamie’s family duties. In the Chadwick world, if something happened twice, it became tradition. Maybe all families were like that? This year, though, they would have an extra guest. Thinking of Robert, he smiled. Thanks to him, Jamie had 106

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managed to get the conference business from the Institute, and it was now all systems go for a major coup next year. That would look good. Something to impress big brother with as well, and maybe even Dad. Robert had not only produced an impressive set of website examples on paper, but had also invited the client to view a dummy website he’d managed to cobble together with some of their requirements, which had more than clinched the deal. He must have worked all night to get it done. Why? But it didn’t matter why, did it? It was great news. As soon as he’d found out, Jamie had set Nick to work on some of his more basic projects and taken on full responsibility for making this one conference the best he’d ever organized. There was a hell of a lot to do, but with Robert and Nick employed in the areas they did best, Jamie knew it would succeed. It had to. He’d make it work, come what may. It occurred to Jamie that he should give Robert a call and update him on what he’d done so far. It would help to add more to the site design and it would be better if Robert had smaller chunks of information to factor in rather than leaving it all to the end. “And what do you think of that?” His father’s question brought him back to the present, and Jamie stared at him in confusion. What was his father asking? He sighed and went on, “You don’t listen to me. The young have no respect. I just don’t know what’s got into you lately. You’re so preoccupied these days.” “Sorry, Dad. I’m just busy. Even more so now. What was the question again?” “I was just saying Mark is expanding the business and thinks he can double his take-up by the end of next year. Isn’t he wonderful? That’s the sort of attitude you need, don’t you think? 107

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Then you wouldn’t have to worry about cash flow like you always do and you could spend more time with me.” “Dad, as you well know, my business is fine and cash flow is good. Didn’t Robert say so? This new conference will get me into the premier league, if it works. Well, maybe.” Jamie was about to explain to him what was happening and what exactly he was hoping to achieve, but he decided against it. Why bother? Whatever he did, it would never be as good as Mark. Picking up the parish magazine, he flicked through the pages, not paying attention to any of it, until the sound of gentle snores told him his father was asleep once more. Back at his desk, he read his emails, created two new files, looked through the accounts and then tidied the part of the office where he always slung everything he thought he might one day need. Then, heart beating fast and throat dry, he made the call. “Hello? It’s me, Jamie.” “Jamie? This is a surprise.” He took a deep breath, realizing this must be the first time he’d actually rung Robert since he’d turned up again. Jamie usually left it for him to ring or asked him questions when he was here. “How are you?” Robert asked. “Fine. You?” “Great. Thanks. Everything okay with the conference?” “That’s what I need to talk to you about. Is this a good time?” “Sure. Go ahead.” He launched into an explanation of the latest developments in the Institute preparations. Robert stopped him a few times to take notes and promised to put something up on the computer as soon as he could. 108

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When he’d finished, Robert said, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, too.” It suddenly felt very cold in the office. And, at the same time, unaccountably hot. “Come off it,” Jamie said. “You don’t need me to help you with anything.” “That’s not true. But, anyway, this is to do with the village. And you’re the nearest thing I’ve got to an expert.” “In what way?” “You needn’t sound so anxious, I don’t bite. No, it’s just that I’ve had a message from Mrs. Bradley at the post office trying to sell me a ticket to the Christmas dance. What I want to know is, does working with you mean I have to go? She didn’t sound like the kind of woman who could take a refusal.” Jamie laughed. The village dance was one of those annual events that generations of Bradleys at the Post Office & Village Shop had felt was their mission to arrange. No matter how much Mrs. Bradley tried to update it by making it into a proper disco with a real DJ or by abandoning the traditional opening speech, it still felt like a throw-back to the 1950s. She was a great one for community activities. If she had her way, she’d have them all up by dawn and chanting local songs on the village green every morning. If she did, it might even do them good. But Robert was still waiting for an answer. “You’ve got no hope,” Jamie said. “If you don’t go, you’ll never get served in The King’s Head again and the milk you buy at the shop, should you ever need to, will turn sour. Strange symbols will appear on your lawn in the mornings and you’ll find yourself missing a limb here or there.” “Sounds a powerful incentive to go. I’d better get a ticket then. 109

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You’ll be there, I suppose, won’t you?” Robert’s sudden change of focus disorientated him. “It’s part of living here. Sure I will. Why?” “No reason, just being polite. Although…” Robert paused. “Although…what?” “Although, of course, you will. Carina will be going after all, won’t she? Unless Mary is right and you’ll have taken up with Lucy by then. You’re certainly getting about these days, aren’t you?” Without saying goodbye, Jamie replaced the phone and then wished he’d said something in return that was both cutting and fierce. But ringing back wouldn’t make it better. Why did Robert think it was any of his bloody business anyway? Just because they’d decided to work together didn’t mean Robert could nose around in his private affairs. Later that night, when he’d calmed down, Jamie realized Robert might have had a point. It was decision time. For everyone’s sake.

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CHAPTER 10 “Carina,” Jamie said, willing himself not to want to pee, “we have to talk.” He was sitting at the kitchen table in the vicarage, warming his hands on the mug of coffee his girlfriend had just made, and concentrating on it rather than her. They’d been out for a snack at the pub and then a walk along the river before reaching Carina’s back door when she’d invited him in for a drink. In some ways, he wished she hadn’t, as it would have made what he had to say now a lot easier. In fact, he wished he’d said something at the beginning of the evening and not at the end when it would make everything up to now seem bad. When it hadn’t been. It wasn’t her it was him. But that was what all blokes said in this situation, wasn’t it? In this 111

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case, though, it was true. Glancing round at the dark oak kitchen with its welcoming lemon-painted walls and wooden flooring, Jamie felt like a criminal. “Oh?” Carina turned around from putting the milk back in the fridge, her face glowing. “Is it about the Christmas dance? I wondered why you hadn’t said anything yet. I’d love to go with you.” “No, Carina, it’s not that. Come and sit down. Please.” “What is it then?” She sat opposite and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Feeling like a traitor, Jamie squeezed back and then let go. “Look, it’s about us,” he said. “Us?” She turned pale and put her hands in her lap. “Yes,” he went on, wiping sweat away from his forehead. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t working out. I like you very much, but it just isn’t…well…you know.” His sentence trailed off and he waved both arms around as if the answer lay in the coffee-scented air. It didn’t. “What do you mean, it isn’t working out?” She continued to stare at him, and he felt cold and then hot again. “We’re fine, aren’t we? There’s nothing wrong with us. There’s nothing…” “No, of course there’s nothing wrong with either of us. I just think it’s not working, like I said.” “It’s working for me.” “Is it? I mean, thank you, but I’m sorry. It’s not you. You’re not the problem—it’s me.” Even as Jamie said it, he groaned inside, knowing it wouldn’t help. The scary thing was there was nothing else to say. “I hope we can still be friends.” “But I want to be your girlfriend.” He was out of his depth and he knew it. “Look, Carina, you’re 112

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lovely and you’ll find someone else. I know you will. I’m a lot older than you and you’ll be at college next year and I…” “That’s not true.” She took a tissue from her pocket and began to cry. “I wouldn’t have gone away. Not with you being here. I want to be with you, that’s all. Please don’t do this, Jamie. Please don’t.” And then she began to sob for real. Jamie sat frozen to his chair. He had no idea what to do. Stupidly he reached out to pat her on the shoulder, but she shook him away. Couldn’t say he blamed her either. Even he thought he was making a pig’s ear of this. And hurting someone he liked, which was worse. “It’s Lucy, isn’t it?” she managed to say between sniffling. “You’d rather be with her, wouldn’t you? I knew it. I knew it.” There was nothing he could say to that. “Look, I’ll go now.” Jamie grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and held it to his chest like a shield. “Me being here isn’t helping. You’ll feel better when I’m gone.” “But I…” He opened his mouth to tell her not to get upset and that he’d ring her later, then thought better of it and instead half ran up the hallway, like the coward he was. Another bad exit from a relationship, a voice in his head reminded him. Though that hadn’t been a relationship, had it? No way had it been. As he closed the front door, Jamie could hear the sound of Carina’s renewed sobs and John’s tentative voice calling out his daughter’s name. *

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“Would you like to come to the dance with me on Saturday?” It was the Tuesday before the big village day. Jamie’s father was snoozing in his chair in front of the television, Nick was upstairs taking care of the office and Jamie was standing with Lucy in the hall seeing her out. “What did you say?” “Heck, I didn’t mean to say that. Just forget it.” “I can’t now you’ve gone and said it.” She threw back her head and laughed. “After all this time.” “What do you mean?” he said, knowing exactly what she meant, but surprised she’d spoken about it. The scent of the perfume on her skin made him want to take her in his arms right now, no matter who else was in the house. It was intoxicating. It was like a physical pull he couldn’t fight. He hadn’t felt like this for a long time. She shook her head. “You know. But I’m not going to explain it. Anyway, you’ve only just broken up with poor Carina, whom I like very much. You men! Don’t you leave any room to breathe?” “It’s not like that, but I said forget it, Lucy. It was stupid to ask.” “Was it?” She moved closer so they were almost touching. Jamie forgot all about essential things like breathing and acting normal. All he could think was how much he wanted her, and what he’d give up to get her. “I don’t think so.” No longer able to talk, he reached out to pull her toward him, but with a subtle movement she’d already stepped back. “And if circumstances were different,” she said, “I might take you up on the offer, thank you. It’s just that I’m already being taken to the dance by someone else.” “What?” He couldn’t grasp what was happening. It felt as if 114

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he’d been taken to the cliff edge and then found the bungee jump had been cancelled. “On the night of the village dance I’m spoken for, thanks.” “Of course you would be. Sure. But…but who?” “Who’s the lucky, or unlucky, man? David, of course.” “David? But he’s…” “Homosexual? You don’t say. What a shame. But then again I do so like a challenge.” Before Jamie could say anything in retaliation she’d blown him a kiss and was gone, pulling the door to with a firm click. Right. That was it. David was definitely top of the hit list again, he thought. But the way he was acting, maybe he should put himself on there, too. *

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The sensible thing would have been not to go to the dance—if village loyalty allowed such an act of rebellion—and to stay at home with his father. Jamie wished afterwards that he’d done just that, but by then it was too late. Any degree of sense he once might have had seemed to have vanished since the arrival of David, Lucy and then Robert. Being a country lad, it was obvious he wasn’t used to crowds. Which didn’t explain why Saturday night found him pulling up in the village hall car park along with most of the rest of Limewater. Apart from Robert, who had found an excuse and was busy with some high-flying deal on one of his own projects. Jamie wondered if Mrs. Bradley would ever give him fresh milk again. From the car, he paused to take in the Christmas splendor of the village hall in all its glory. Every other day of the year, it was a 115

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plain, red brick building that sat like a Sphinx on its own stretch of tarmac. Brooding, uncommunicative, very ’60s. Today things were different. Mrs. Bradley and her tribe of daughters must have been working all hours, as there were flashing Christmas lights festooning the outer walls, an enormous Christmas tree covered with colored streamers, and more flashing lights next to the door. Across the length of it was a huge pink banner proclaiming “Welcome to Limewater’s Christmas Dance, 1999. The Millennium Celebrations Start Here!” No one could ever say Mrs. Bradley didn’t know how to be vibrant. As Jamie got out of the car, he’d already been spotted. A familiar figure, dressed in purple and green with the now trademark trilby hat, appeared in the doorway, stared into the darkness and, seeing Jamie under one of the courtesy lights, started to wave. He waved back as he made his way toward the hall, wondering what David had done with Lucy. And then, with a lurch, if Carina was here yet. “Jamie, hi. How’re you doing?” David stretched out his hand and grasped his. “Fine. You?” “Oh, yes. Isn’t this so very country? And it’s all in a good cause, too, isn’t it?” “David, it’s country because that’s where we are. It’s a place, not a style.” “Oh, sure, sure. I forgot.” He stumbled to a halt and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “No problem. Drink?” “Rum and Coke would be cool. Cheers.” Jamie got the drinks and stared round at the throng of people 116

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filling all the available space: laughing, shouting, talking, some already at the buffet, some swaying to the music throbbing through the atmosphere. He couldn’t see Lucy. Nudging David, he said, “So, you’re here with Lucy? She okay?” “Sure.” He pointed across the dance floor. “She went to powder her nose. Or whatever women do. There she is now.” He glanced in the direction David was indicating and, instead of Lucy, came face to face with Carina. Lurking behind her was Nick. Even in the semi-darkness, he could see how pale she was. His throat felt dry, in spite of the pint in his hand. “Hello, Carina. How are you?” he said, trying for a smile that didn’t quite feel as if it worked. She opened and closed her mouth several times, but no words came out. He thought he should have simply left it. He wanted to be friends with her, but maybe it was too soon. In the stretched-out silence, broken only by David coughing, Jamie put his pint down and rubbed his hands together just for something to do. Nick gave him an unfathomable stare, put his hand on her arm and whispered something Jamie couldn’t catch. Carina shook him away as if he were a fly, turned and stalked off. After yet another glance of the kind one really shouldn’t be giving one’s employer, but was, Jamie conceded, understandable in the circumstances, Nick hurried after her. “Hi there,” Lucy said close to his ear, her voice sending shivers down his spine. “Glad you could come.” Gazing at her, he could see the curves of her body under the dress she was wearing. Something clingy and black. Something that made him unable either to look away, or to speak. She was beautiful, but she scared him, too. 117

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While Jamie was still leering at her, she smiled and went on, “Do you want to dance?” Did he? Oh, yes. Before he could stop panting and put his tongue back in his mouth to form a response, David had nipped in front. “Good idea, Lucy,” he said. “Let’s see what your footwork’s like on the dance floor, shall we?” Grabbing her by the arm, he pulled her out into the seething crowds. Just before the two of them were lost to view, Lucy turned around and gave Jamie a regretful smile. He needed a drink. Water probably would be best. No, make it beer. At the dance, the two things were almost the same. Drinking didn’t work. For the next two or three hours, every time he caught sight of Lucy, it felt as if his body was on fire. He danced with a few girls, but he was still aware of her with every part of his being. He seemed to know what she was doing, where she was, even what she was thinking. Every slow dance, she seemed to be in front of him at the edge of the crowd, swaying to the music, some other bloke’s hands running over the smooth fabric of her dress, breathing in the heady scent of her hair. Jamie wanted to leave or turn away, but he couldn’t. He wished he were with her. It was the most maddening thing he’d ever known. Almost. It was gone midnight when things came to a head. He’d lost sight of her for a few minutes and was making his way towards the gents’ through the cloakroom at the far end of the hall, when she came out of the ladies’ toilets and the door swung shut behind her. They were alone. For a long moment, he stared at her, and she stared back. Then 118

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from somewhere he didn’t even know existed—at least not in him—instinct took over. He pushed her against the wall. She didn’t resist. The next second, his tongue was in her mouth and a second later, she was kissing him in return. Then she pushed him away and slapped him. Jamie stepped back from her at once. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling his cheek begin to sting. Her face was pale. “I’m sorry, too.” Then she said what he’d least expected. “Why don’t we do it now?” For another moment, he had no idea what she meant. Then if he’d been capable, he might have laughed. But she wasn’t joking. God. “All right,” he said, surprising himself. “Come on.” She followed him out the side door and they were in the night air, heading toward the boiler outbuilding. It wasn’t cold and the cloud cover meant there were no stars, but he didn’t need to see his way. Neither of them spoke a word. Once inside, they were too far gone to bother with the niceties of what they were doing. They stripped in record time, scrabbling at each other’s clothes like teenagers, and Jamie rolled a condom—hers—over his prick. Then he reached for her body, but she was there first, pushing him down onto the floor and lowering herself onto him. God, he thought, this is serious. And then he couldn’t think any more. A few moments of silent thrusting, almost animalistic, and he was finished. She gasped once, arching her back so her breasts tightened against his lips. Then it was over. He took her in his arms for the first time. He was surprised by how empty he felt. “This is crazy,” she whispered. 119

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“Yes,” Jamie said, trying to catch his breath. “But nice.” “Yes.” And that was all they said to each other. Walking back to the side door, he hoped no one had noticed they’d gone and, at first glance, thought their luck was in. The cloakroom was free from people. As they stepped inside, though, he caught the sound of a stifled sob in the corner, followed by Nick’s familiar voice. “Don’t cry, Carina. It’s not worth it.” Jamie whipped round to prevent the door slamming behind them, but it was too late. The noise made Carina yelp, and she and Nick both turned around. For a second or two, nothing happened and then his ex-girlfriend burst into tears and ran past them out into the hall, almost colliding with someone coming in from the other side. “You bastard,” Nick said, eyes glittering behind his glasses, and aimed a punch in the direction of Jamie’s jaw. He missed, thanks to the person who had just come in grabbing him from behind and pushing him down into a pile of hats and scarves strewn over the carpet. Before Jamie could think, the music in the hall stopped and the door through which Carina had just exited was flung open to reveal the curious eyes of a gaggle of villagers. “God, you lot certainly know how to party, don’t you?” his rescuer said as he emerged into view. It was David.

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CHAPTER 11 “I hear the real entertainment at the village dance was you.” “What?” Jamie said, turning around to find Robert right next to him. Any nearer and they’d be touching. He didn’t know what he thought about that. He took a step back, bumping into the oven and almost burning his arm. It was Christmas Day. He’d just come back from church with his father, where he’d spent most of the time trying to outstare anyone who so much as smirked at him. Now he was standing in the kitchen trying to ensure Christmas dinner went without a hitch. Not a task he was best suited for. Right now, he could have done with Mary’s help, but he was out of luck. However, lurking in the kitchen was better than coping with the mutual admiration society of his father and Mark in the living room, which was making him 121

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feel like an intruder in his own home. Robert raised one eyebrow and looked as if he was about to laugh. “Too close for comfort? Never mind, wish I’d been there. But is it true David had to rescue you from being beaten to within an inch of your life?” “No, it’s not. When did you start listening to gossip?” This time he did laugh. “When it concerns you, of course.” Clutching the vegetable knife he’d been holding a little tighter, Jamie looked up at him. “What do you mean?” “Nothing. And why don’t you put that knife down? You might hurt somebody.” “Oh, very funny,” he muttered, turning to lay the knife on the side of the chopping board. “Very funny indeed.” “Yes, it is. If I’d known you’d become this entertaining, I’d have flown back here to catch up with you much earlier on.” He paused, then said, “Mind you, maybe not. After all, Christmas isn’t such a good time for you, is it?” Sweat bubbled across Jamie’s forehead. When he next looked around, Robert had disappeared, so he started pulling outer leaves from the sprouts as if he were tearing an enemy apart. A few seconds later, he heard the door opening again and this time he was ready. “Back so soon?” He grunted, as he juggled the sprouts into the colander, wondering why anyone would want to eat what to him were simply overgrown peas. “Thought of some more barbed comments, no doubt. Bloody hell, Robert, why can’t you just—” “It’s me,” Jamie’s sister-in-law said. “Why can’t Robert just what?” Straightening up, Jamie smiled at her. “Nothing. Just the pains of Christmas, you know?” 122

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“It’s not that bad, is it? I’ve come to help. You shouldn’t be struggling here on your own.” Whisking dishes from his hand, Allie danced around the kitchen, pouring sauce into jugs and spooning vegetables onto plates and in no time at all they were ready to go. It was like watching the ballet. “Yes, you’re right,” he said when she’d finished doing in two minutes what he would have battled with for twenty. “What do you mean?” She looked up, pushing a strand of hair away from her eyes. “There was no point struggling on my own. I could’ve let you do it all and put my feet up on the sofa.” “Typical man. I’m sure that if a certain someone else were here, you’d try to pass off all this food as your own.” “What do you mean?” he said. “Everyone’s here who should be here, aren’t they?” “Yes, but Robert told me you might be getting serious with your father’s physio. What was her name? Laura? Liz?” “Lucy,” he replied, and found, to his embarrassment, that he was blushing. “See! I was right. Is it serious?” Jamie smiled in what he hoped was a mysterious, masculine way. He had no idea. He and Lucy had had sex. Did that count as serious? But he didn’t know what Lucy felt and right now had no way of finding out. So he shrugged and continued to smile. “I don’t know,” Allie said. “You men are a mystery. I hope Mark and I get to meet her before we go back. But in the meantime, why don’t we get this stuff into the dining room and we can at least manage to get some of it eaten before your father turns on the Queen’s speech.” 123

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All through dinner, Dad continued to focus on Mark as if he hadn’t seen him for years. As usual. And it had in fact only been Easter. Jamie’s stomach felt tight and he didn’t eat much. Mark spent most of the meal catching up with what Robert had been up to for the last few years and comparing notes on Japanese business. If Jamie had to talk, he tried to make sure it was to Allie. He got more sense out of her. After watching the Queen do her stuff, they turned off the television and Jamie poured everyone some drinks, including a large brandy for himself. He thought it might calm down whatever was going on with his digestive system today. It was certainly making his head feel better. As he handed Robert his Scotch, Jamie saw he was smiling up at him. Flinging himself into the one remaining seat, Jamie found his heart was racing and said the first thing that came to him…not always the best of moves. “So, Allie, how are all the plans for expanding the business going?” “Well, it’s not me who has the plans,” she said, taking a sip from her Baileys. “Mark just tells me what themes he wants for the different rooms, and I do the decorating.” Jamie’s brother gave a short bark of laughter, “Honestly, little bro, anyone would think you’d not been listening to a word we were saying at lunchtime. Where were you, another planet?” “No, I—” “Jamie, Jamie,” his father said, “your brother’s got some marvelous ideas for the future. You should listen more; you might learn something. Why don’t you do a Japanese theme for one of those little meetings of yours? I’m sure Mark would be happy to lend you a hand. After all, Robert and Nick are helping you out at 124

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the moment and—” “They’re not helping me out, Dad. I’m employing them at a fair rate.” “Surely it’s better to keep it in the family.” “It’s my choice.” “You ought to know, blood is thicker than water.” “It’s not because I’m incapable of running my own life.” Realizing he now sat on the edge of the chair, Jamie took a large gulp of his drink, got up, gave himself a refill and sat again. “Hey, forget it. I didn’t mean to shout.” “Chocolate, anyone?” Allie stood up, hands clutched in front of her, and gave a bright smile. Nobody could cope with the thought of chocolate except Dad, who cheered up at once. “Oh, yes,” he said. “We’ve got some of those Elizabeth Shaw mints in the fridge, haven’t we?” She went to fetch them. With the one woman amongst them gone from the room, the men all fell silent. Then Mark said, “Nick? Did you say Nick, Dad? I think I’ve heard that name before.” “Mark.” Robert leaned forward. “Perhaps it would be better…” “A-ha!” Jamie’s brother exclaimed, making him jump. “I remember. Is this the same Nick that Mrs. Bradley tells me you were in some sort of fisticuffs with at the village dance? You employ him? Great choice.” “A fight? In Limewater?” His father’s voice quavered and he nearly dropped his drink. “What’s this? What’s been happening?” Nice one, Mark, Jamie thought. Go ahead, drop him in it and leave the scene of destruction with not so much as a scratch. Why was it that whenever the three of them were in the same room, they 125

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all regressed ten years? No, make that twenty years. “It was nothing, Mr. Chadwick,” Robert chipped in. “Nothing to worry about. I think you’ll find…” But it was too late. “Jamie?” Dad carried on, ignoring Robert’s interruption. “What have you been up to? This is terrible. Have you hurt anyone? Why didn’t you tell me?” “Nothing happened, Dad, so don’t worry. Nobody got hurt.” Once on the subject of his shortcomings, Jamie’s father didn’t like to let go. Then again, Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without the arguments. “You’ve always been trouble,” he mumbled, almost to himself. “Ever since you were a young boy. Not like your brother. Why can’t you learn something from Mark? He’d never have gotten into a fight. Was it over some girl? Why can’t you settle down, like Mark and Allie, maybe even have children? That would be nice.” “Dad, I…” Jamie couldn’t think of anything to say in his own defense. “Oh, bloody hell.” “Jamie! Your language these days is terrible. What’s happened to make you start swearing so much? You never hear Mark swearing. That’s not how I brought you up.” Right now, Jamie didn’t much care how he’d been brought up. Right now he wanted to shout or hit something. Must be the brandy, he thought. Maybe he should have more. But he knew he’d never hear the last of it from Mark. If he ever lost his temper, which in the past Jamie had done many times before getting wise to him, Mark counted it as having won. Eventually, Dad ran out of breath, by which point Robert had deflected him onto the subject of the Royal family, and Allie had returned with the chocolates. 126

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Jamie unclenched his fists and finished his second post-lunch drink. There was the sound of happy munching on the part of Dad and Allie for a few moments before his sister-in-law turned to Robert and said, “Father-in-law tells me you’re looking for a new office over here? How’s it going?” “Fine. Once my offer’s accepted and everything’s signed, and I think it will be, I should be up and running.” “Which one did you choose in the end?” Jamie asked him. “The new business park on the other side of the town?” He nodded. “What’s it like?” Allie asked. “Good,” he replied, answering Allie’s question, but still looking at Jamie. “They’ve got plenty of space, enough for demonstrations, meetings, that kind of thing. I’d like to have a dedicated room to show off what my people can do. It should impress new clients.” “What are you doing for staff?” Mark asked. “I’ve got a few people in my head I need to make enquiries about.” Robert turned his attention now to Jamie’s half-brother. “The estate landlords reckon it’ll be ready by March, but I’ll hire before that. So it’ll all be bedded in before I fly back to Japan.” “Good idea,” Allie chipped in. “You’ve turned into a real tycoon, Robert.” “Tycoon, darling?” Mark said. “Sounds like you’ve been watching too many repeats of Dallas.” “Too true. I have to do something while I wait for you to make up your mind about what you want in those rooms.” His wife laughed, and Mark reached over and patted her hand. There were times when Jamie wished some of Allie’s magic in handling Mark could rub off on him, too, but it never had. When 127

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Mark turned his guns in Jamie’s direction, he seemed to mean it. With Allie, though, he never did. Dad put down his glass with a satisfied sigh. “So, when shall we have tea then?” “But we’ve only just eaten lunch.” Allie laughed. “Are you hungry already?” “No, but I was just wondering what we were going to do now.” “A walk?” Robert suggested. “Too dark,” Mark said. “We’d never see anything. What about a game of Monopoly?” “Too bloody long,” Jamie said. “We’d be here till next Christmas.” “Language, language,” Dad said. “But I think that would be lovely. Do you remember where the board is?” Of course he knew where the board was. It was in the cupboard under the stairs where it had been since the Christmas before when they’d last played it. “Yes,” Jamie said, “but I’m trying hard not to.” “You only say that because you always lose,” Mark murmured. “If you had any idea what you were supposed to be doing, you might find yourself enjoying it a bit more.” “Mark,” Allie chipped in, “leave Jamie alone.” “Yes, back off.” Jamie glared at him. “It’s just a game. Not real life.” “Temper, temper.” “Look, if you don’t—” “I don’t know why you can’t get on better with your brother, Jamie,” their father wailed all of a sudden. “I don’t know what you’ve got against him. We all see each other so rarely that it would be nice to play a friendly game of Monopoly together. You 128

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know, like old times when—” “When we’d be scrapping in the garden and throwing stones at each other, you mean?” “Stones? But Mark would never do such a thing. He’d never be so thoughtless. It’s just a game, and it would be nice to play it at Christmas. It would be nice if—” “Okay, okay, I give in. I’ll get it.” They played the wretched game for nearly an hour and Jamie ended up with the Old Kent Road and Whitechapel, as he’d known he would. As always, Mark had Mayfair and Park Lane. Typical. Their father had lost interest and his head was all but drooping onto his chest when Allie noticed what was happening. “Would you like a nap?” she asked, touching his father on the arm. “We can finish the game later if you’d like.” “No, no. I’ll stay here,” he muttered, but he was already halfasleep. “Come on, Dad.” Mark leaned over. “I’ll help you get up to bed if you’d like. You can have a lie down.” “You’re so kind, Mark,” he said, eyelids half-closed. “It’s always a pleasure when you come home. Such a pleasure. I wish you could be here all the time. We’d have fun, the two of us, wouldn’t we? It’d be like old times, when it was just you and me, father and son. Before…before…” Jamie stood up and left the room, saying nothing. There didn’t seem to be much point. He felt sick. In the dining room, he poured himself another drink and downed it in one toss. He had no idea what it was. But afterwards, his head fizzed as if a dozen fireworks had been set off in this brain. Behind him, he could hear the faint click of the living room door opening and the sound of muffled voices in the hall. Mark 129

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and his father. His father and Mark. Before he knew what he was doing, Jamie had walked out of the dining room and was standing facing his half-brother and his father. Dad was leaning heavily on Mark, who was in the middle of making soothing noises. When they heard Jamie, they both looked up with startled expressions. It was as if Jamie had disturbed them in the middle of something private that he couldn’t be part of. “It’s better for Dad if he goes upstairs on his own,” he said to Mark. “He’s not an invalid. Exercise helps.” “Back off, Jamie.” Mark glared. “I’m just giving him a hand, that’s all. He’s my father, for heaven’s sake.” “He’s my father, too. Anyway, what the hell would you know about looking after Dad? You’re hardly ever here, are you?” Mark raised his eyes to the ceiling. “For goodness sake, you don’t have to shout. I can hear you perfectly well.” “So why don’t you stop interfering and—” He didn’t let Jamie finish. Instead, he lowered his voice so their father couldn’t hear and whispered, “What’s the matter? Aren’t you getting enough these days, in spite of the dance?” That was too much. Just as the door opened to reveal the startled faces of Robert and Allie, Jamie hit Mark square on the jaw.

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CHAPTER 12 Jamie couldn’t believe he’d done it. He couldn’t believe either that Mark hadn’t ducked. He couldn’t believe the look of astonishment on his half-brother’s face when he fell down, and he couldn’t believe how sick he felt. Most of all, he couldn’t believe how much his hand hurt. Next time he’d know to aim at the stomach. At least it would be softer. After Allie had rushed to help, and Mark had staggered to his feet, Jamie glanced around to see Robert with his arm round his father, and he walked straight out of the house. Without thinking about where he was going, he cut through the fields, made his way along the river for a while and ended up at the church. Opening the carved wooden door of St. Peter’s, he slipped inside and sat halfway down on the left beside the cool blue 131

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stenciling of the different fish that decorated the whole of the interior. His head was throbbing now, as well as his hand. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and wondered if all families found Christmas this difficult. What was the point of it all? Two thousand years ago, some down-on-their-luck couple in the Middle East had produced a son where the man of the house wasn’t the father. So what? Welcome to the modern world and look what you started. It was madness. No purpose to it. But he had to admit it was good to sit here in the peace and quiet of centuries and give his head a chance to cool down. Churches were always better when there was no one else in them. He stayed there for over half an hour, until the hardness of the pew drove him out and back to the scene of the crime. The nearer he came to home, the slower his journey became. Creeping in through the front door like a whipped dog, he heard the murmur of voices. The hall doors were all shut so at least he could get into the house without anyone knowing he was here. But first he needed a drink of water. The upstairs bathroom would be the safest place to get it. Then he’d come down and face the fury of the family. He’d only just made it onto the stairs when the kitchen door opened and Robert came out. “Jamie, thank God you’re back. What the hell was all that about?” Robert stared at him, but kept his voice down. “Nothing.” The other man sighed. “All right. It’s none of my business, I know. But come into the kitchen. We need to take care of your hand. ” “No.” “But you’ll need to have it bandaged up.” 132

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“No, I don’t. I’m fine.” Jamie pushed past him into the kitchen and ran the cold tap in the sink over his swollen fist. Even that light contact with the man made him shiver. Just what the hell was so wrong with him? He had to get it sorted. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” “Yes.” He flexed his fingers. Not a good idea. “Mark always gives the impression of being a rather squarejawed citizen. Perhaps next time you should aim at someone a little less beefy?” Jamie couldn’t help himself. He laughed. “Jamie?” Robert said. “Yeah?” “Are you serious about Lucy?” “What?” “You heard me. Are you serious about her?” “Why? What’s it got to do with you?” “Nothing, of course. But I can’t help wondering…” “Then don’t.” Jamie moved across the kitchen so the table was between them. He didn’t want to discuss anything personal now. Or get into another fight. Not with Robert. “All right then, I won’t. I’m only trying to help.” “Thanks, but I don’t need it.” Robert took several steps back and gave him an unfathomable stare. “So you keep saying.” *

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New Year’s Eve, 1999—the last of the old millennium and the beginning of the new. The King’s Head was heaving and Jamie had had trouble getting Michael’s attention at the bar. Maybe it 133

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was the rumors about his budding violence or something else he hadn’t been told yet, but he had to serve Jamie in the end. When he finally steered his way through to the table Mark and Allie had grabbed earlier on, they were deep in conversation with Robert, who must have only just arrived. “Yes,” Mark was saying, “the way things are going in Japan, we’re going to have to…” The rest of his sentence vanished as Jamie gave everyone their drinks. When he handed Mark his, they both half-smiled at each other, still not sure how things were going to be. He’d never hit Mark before, or tried to, not since they were both small anyway. He’d said he was sorry, and Mark had told him to forget it, at which point, Dad had smiled upon them both and talked of happy families. The edge in the air still lingered, however, and things had been cooler between them since the fight. Well, since Jamie had punched Mark and he’d keeled over. Not much of a fight to be honest. Hit list or no hit list, Jamie really wasn’t the violent type. Wondering how long it would be before things were back to normal—and what normal might be anyway—Jamie sat down next to Allie and took a swig of his pint. “Is Lucy here?” Robert spoke first. When Jamie put down his glass, everyone was staring in his direction. “What?” Robert repeated his question. Jamie shrugged. “No, not yet. I don’t know if she’s coming anyway.” He was trying to sound cool, but had never mastered the trick. It must have been obvious to everyone he was lying. The truth was, he was desperate to see Lucy, though, of course, there was no way he’d tell anyone that. He’d rung her twice since the dance. The first 134

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time, she’d been out and he hadn’t left a message. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t think of anything to say. The second time he’d called, she’d been in. Thank God. She’d been friendly on the phone, but nothing more, and when he’d asked her to the pub for New Year’s, she’d been casual, saying she was already going and she’d see him there. Jamie had no idea who she was going with, how serious it was, if at all, or if she was turning up on her own, and where that left him. “You men!” Allie was saying. “Oh, look. Who on earth is that?” Jamie turned round and followed the direction she was pointing. It was David. He was dressed in bright green from top to toe, with a single yellow cravat round his neck. He looked like a daffodil. Behind him was Lucy. Again. “That’s David,” Jamie realized as he spoke that of course no one at the table apart from him had ever met his old college friend. He glanced at Robert, wondering what the older man might think. “No!” Allie put her hand up to her mouth and choked back a giggle. “I bet he livens it up around here.” Robert raised one eyebrow, and Mark snorted his distaste. At the same time, Jamie realized they’d been spotted and the mismatched pair were on their way over. As they approached, he stood up and tried to look confident. Unfortunately, he knocked over the chair behind him and only Mark’s intervention saved him from falling. “Hello,” David said with a grin, picking up the chair. “Can we join you?” “Sure,” Jamie said, aware his face must be as red as a Suffolk sunset, but not as attractive, and set about introducing everyone. When it was Robert’s turn, David leant forward and gave him a 135

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look that could only be described as a twinkle. “So, you’re Robert?” “Yes.” Robert looked amused. “The Robert who, if I remember correctly, used to be Jamie’s brother’s boss?” “That’s right. Though not for long, I’m afraid.” “Half-brother,” Jamie added, as an automatic response. David shrugged, and Allie groaned. “The long-lost Robert who’s just turned up out of the ether from the mysterious Japan?” “Unless there’s another Robert I don’t know about, you’re still right. I see you’ve been talking to Michael. Or maybe Mrs. Bradley? I know Jamie would never describe me in such a way. Now, is it my turn to ask you something?” “Ask on.” David opened his eyes very wide, and Jamie turned away, catching Lucy’s gaze. She smiled. “You’re the David who used to be one of Jamie’s friends at university?” “Spot on.” “The David who turns up at the right moment in the village hall?” “Ah, yes, call me Zorro.” David looked as if he were about to explode in delight at the attention Robert was paying him. “If I must. And the David who, like me, is supposed to have made up his mind that women aren’t quite his thing? Though I must say, in my case I’m pretty sure they’re not.” This was too much. Why are gays always so willing to tell all? And why in a public place? Since Robert had come back, Jamie hadn’t liked to remind 136

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himself that their old family friend, like the new David, was that way inclined, but now here it was being thrust in his face like God knew what. Jamie was prickly with embarrassment and he wasn’t the only one. Mark squirmed in his seat and distracted himself by giving Lucy an admiring stare that Allie clocked at once. “So, where do you live then, Lucy?” Mark asked, almost drooling. “Colchester. Not far.” “If you need a lift back, I’m sure—” “That Jamie or David will be more than happy to help,” said Allie, giving her husband a light punch on the shoulder and raising her eyes to the ceiling. “Husbands. Honestly!” Lucy laughed, and, to Jamie’s surprise, she and Allie started chatting away together as if they were long-lost sisters. Why did this happen with women? It was a mystery. Some kind of bonding instinct he’d never been able to fathom. While this was going on, Robert and David were still talking. “Sorry, Robert.” David was cupping his hand to his ear, looking like one of those comedy actors you sometimes saw in old Hollywood films. “I didn’t quite catch that. It’s the music. Though, it’s good, isn’t it? For Suffolk. Had no idea this type of sound had made it to the country.” “I don’t think Limewater is as stuck in the Middle Ages as you think. Some things do get through even here.” “I’m sure. It’s just so far away from London that it’s like another world.” “But you’re living here now, aren’t you?” “Yeah, but the town is my natural habitat. In so many ways, I feel like I belong there rather than here.” “So why not live in Colchester?” Robert asked, arms crossed 137

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and leaning back in his chair. A good question under the circumstances. “I needed a change of air. You know, I could ask you the same thing.” “I had my reasons,” Robert replied, and the seriousness with which he said it caught Jamie by surprise. The evening wore on. The party in the pub grew wilder and Jamie wondered how his dad was getting on. Mark bought drinks. Robert bought drinks. Then, at last, David bought drinks, and Robert offered to go with him to help out. “Thought you’d never ask,” David said. “See you lot soon then. This may take some time.” The two of them disappeared into the crowd. Jamie didn’t like to think what they might be up to. Robert had come out when Jamie was sixteen. Or rather, he’d told Mark, and Mark had told Jamie. It was no good telling Dad. He’d never have understood and he was fond of Robert. So, somehow, it became one of the secrets Mark and Jamie shared, and one of the things they never talked about. Now, his brother grimaced at him, but Jamie simply shrugged. For lack of something to do and because Lucy and Allie were chatting away with no hope of a pause, he got up to take a pee. Making his way through the lounge bar to the gents’ at the rear of the pub, he saw Carina by the fireplace chatting with one of the Bradley daughters. When she looked up and saw him, she smiled for a moment, before blushing and turning away. “Hello,” he said, not wanting to leave things as they were between them. “You okay?” “Yes. You?” Carina replied, winding one strand of yellow hair round her finger. Her companion said nothing, but simply glared at 138

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him. “Sure, fine. Good party, isn’t it?” he glanced up at the ceiling, but found no inspiration there. Where were the words when he needed them? “Uh-huh.” This was from Carina. “Look, Carina, I…” he started to say, but the Bradley girl got there first, reaching out and sweeping the vicar’s daughter away in one impressive movement. His ex-girlfriend made no effort to stop her. Great. Not the best of post-going-out conversations. And he liked Carina, so didn’t want it to be awkward with her. He promised himself he’d try again when she didn’t have bodyguards surrounding her. The whole thing was stupid. Was he really that dangerous? After washing his hands in the bathroom, Jamie was beginning to feel sick, so instead of going straight back to the bar, he turned in the opposite direction, pushed open the fire door, wedging it with an abandoned empty bottle so it wouldn’t close, and took a couple of paces into the cool night air. Breathing in a few chilly lungs-full cleared his head and he was about to go inside again when someone over to his left chuckled quietly. Not an everyday sort of laugh, but the kind people gave when they were in the first stages of being turned on and it was going well. Oh, God, time to make a quiet exit. He might be many things, but voyeur wasn’t one of them. Still, even as he reached back toward the open door, he couldn’t help glancing in the direction from which the noise had come . It was Robert. With David. Jamie was unable to move; unable to stop staring either. Neither of them was looking at him. Though he didn’t think they 139

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would have been aware of him if he’d jumped up and down and played Auld Lang Syne on the bagpipes in front of them. They were that much engrossed in each other. David had his back pressed against the bushes, under one of the streetlights, and was smiling up at Robert, who was grappling with David’s shirt buttons and kissing him on the lips. And for one uncontrollable moment, Jamie knew that more than anything he wanted it to be him. There, with Robert. Under the streetlight. Being touched like that. Bloody hell. Heat rose to his face, and thinking a thousand thoughts it was impossible to name, Jamie crept backwards as quietly as he could. He closed the fire door behind him and stumbled back into the pub. He only hoped they hadn’t heard him. He only hoped they hadn’t known. “Jamie?” He jumped as a hand touched his shoulder. It was Lucy. “Hi. Hi there,” he said, knowing he was shaking. “Goodness, nothing wrong with your nerves,” she said, laughing, and then peered at him. “Are you okay?” “Fine. Any sign of those drinks yet?” “Not yet. It’s hell at the bar, though. You have to be born at the front of the queue to get served.” In the depths of the pub, the music was pulsating louder than before and making a storm in Jamie’s head. Someone had made a small space between tables where a few people were dancing. Grabbing Lucy by the arm and almost causing her to topple over, he said, “Dance with me. Please?” “You’re crazy. There’s hardly room to swing a cat. It’s packed in here.” 140

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He stared at the woman in front of him. He wanted to feel her body against his, the warmth of her skin, the beat of her heart. He needed it. To reassure himself. “Dance with me,” he repeated. “Please?” She shrugged. “Okay. If you insist.” They danced together, and Jamie buried his face in her hair, catching the scent of apples and smoke. They didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure he was capable of speech. When they sat down, Robert and David had returned and drinks waited for Lucy and him. He could see the glow of David’s face and a couple of stray leaves in his hair. Reaching across the table, Jamie took hold of Lucy’s hand. Robert half raised his glass in his direction. “Good to see you at last,” Jamie said, surprised to find his voice sounded normal. “Did you have trouble getting served or something?” “Jamie!” Allie laughed. “In this crowd, they were probably lucky to get back alive.” Robert held his gaze for a few seconds, but his eyes were cool. “No. No trouble at all,” he said. Then he turned away. Jamie stroked Lucy’s hand. In the meantime, David brushed his fingers through his hair, picking out the remnants of the car park bushes, and said to the group in general, “So what New Year’s resolutions do we all have?” “The usual,” Lucy replied. “Exercise more, eat less chocolate, be kinder to my patients.” “I’m sure you’re always kindness itself to everyone you meet,” David said. “Who made you into Mr. Smoothie all of a sudden? Come off 141

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it, David, because it doesn’t suit you.” “I’m deeply hurt.” “Liar.” But they were both grinning. Robert put down his wine. “And what about you, David? Any resolutions?” “Definitely. My plans for this year include upgrading my car, stripping out and redoing my new flat, and finding a richer, older man, not necessarily in that order. How about you?” It was good to see Mark lost for words for once, and Jamie couldn’t help but smile. Allie patted her husband on the back. Meeting David’s loaded gaze head-on, Robert replied, “It’s too early to say and, besides, I like to keep my options open. I don’t like making promises I can’t guarantee keeping.” David looked disappointed. Sitting back in the chair, Jamie finished his drink. “I’d ask Mark,” Robert continued, “but maybe he should catch his breath first. What about you, Allie?” “Less weight, more clothes, more time with my husband.” “Women are always so focused, aren’t they?” David said. “Of course!” Lucy and Allie chorused together in perfect harmony. “We get more practice.” “We think about our lives.” “Our brains are more active.” Snorts of contradiction from the men led to Mark perking up and deciding to put his ideas into the pot. “Of course, Allie’s right. She wants more time with me because it’s the sensible thing to do because I’m perfect.” “Huh!” 142

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“Can’t you try some modesty, Mark?” “That’s the reason why…” “Shut up, husband!” “I don’t need to make any resolutions this year at all.” Everyone threw what they could find across the table at Mark. “And what about you, Jamie?” “What?” “Resolutions,” Lucy said, laughing. “What about you?” Jamie smiled at her and opened his mouth to reply just as the landlord shouted out across the bar, “Ten minutes to go to midnight, folks, so prepare yourselves!” Was that really the time? Everyone rushed to fill their glasses, someone turned on the radio, and the pub became silent as they waited for the new millennium to begin. At the first chime, London and Limewater exploded into a cacophony of sound and excitement. People laughing, singing, wishing each other a happy New Year, the usual scene echoed in countless pubs, bars and hotels across the country that night. Jamie stretched out his hand to Mark and he took it, then, to his surprise, his brother hugged him. When Mark let go, they both shuffled their feet and looked elsewhere. If he hadn’t been safely tucked up in bed, dead to the world, Jamie was sure his father would have been proud. He nodded at Robert and dodged David’s drunken attempt to hug him as well. One masculine emotional moment was more than enough for one night. Instead, turning to Lucy, Jamie swung her around and, without knowing that was what he was going to do, kissed her on the lips. With feeling. After a couple of seconds, Lucy pushed him away and smiled. “Happy New Year, you,” she whispered. “Happy New Year,” he said. And then, “Come home with me. 143

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Please.” After that the evening became no more than a haze. Jamie had no idea what the rest of them were doing, but was sure they’d work it out. Mark and Allie could look after themselves; they had a key. David was drunk again, but Robert could deal with it this time, couldn’t he? Though Jamie didn’t want to think about what that might mean. Not in any shape or form. Ten minutes or so later, Lucy and he were standing just inside the hall at home finishing the kiss they’d started. And they were taking things slowly. But not too slowly, because five minutes after that they were both in Jamie’s bedroom where no more words were needed.

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CHAPTER 13 Waking up felt strange and, for a moment, Jamie couldn’t remember anything that had happened. Then turning over in the bed and seeing Lucy next to him brought it all flooding back. Last night. The party. It had been real after all, not something he’d imagined. Fantastic. Lucy, what a great girl. She made everything in his world right again. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? After all, here was someone who’d never have to worry about being on his hit list at all. In any position. Lying in bed with her, Jamie checked again just to make sure. Yes, it was still real. Lucky him. As he continued to gaze at her, she gave a low moan and opened her eyes. “Jamie,” she said. 145

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“Yes?” She leant over, nibbled his ear and whispered, “You know, I just couldn’t resist you. You looked so cute in the pub last night.” “Oh?” he managed. “You looked fantastic. You always do.” Cute wasn’t his favorite compliment. He would have preferred something along the lines of “sexy beast,” or “overpowering” or even “irresistible to the modern single woman in search of excitement.” As if. But he supposed he should be glad for whatever compliment came his way. Maybe he’d look less cute after breakfast. He’d be neater at least. Talking of which, he was starving. “Breakfast?” Jamie asked, wondering if he could persuade Allie to let him have a free hand in the kitchen. While other meals left him floundering, he did do a mean breakfast. When allowed. His sister-in-law’s idea of it was muesli and pulped fruit, and whenever she was here she seemed determined to make them all eat the same. Maybe she was thinking of their health too much? Two nights ago, Jamie had dreamt of bacon, eggs and mushroom and it had been a great letdown to wake up and realize it wasn’t going to happen. Not unless he could sneak past Allie. But no, the smell of cooking pig would give him away. Lucy smiled and stretched out luxuriously like a cat. “Sounds great, but what about your father?” “What about him?” “He won’t want me here across the breakfast table, will he? Wouldn’t it be embarrassing?” “Maybe,” he said. “But you can’t just sneak out like a burglar. Not without eating something. If you’re worried, I can make up a reason why you’re here. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” To be honest, Jamie wasn’t sure about that at all, but he didn’t 146

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want Lucy to go. His father had always made his disapproval known when he’d had girls staying over in the past. Not that there’d been that many—only one or two—and it now seemed a long time ago. Too long to think about. Leaping out of bed, Jamie slammed his knee against the bedside table. Stifling a groan, he tried to look as if this sort of thing was a normal part of his hectic yet masculine lifestyle. “Are you okay? What’s all the rush?” Lucy laughed, leaning on one arm to look at him. “It’s New Year’s Day, for goodness sake.” “I hate lying in. Waste of time.” “Don’t you ever relax?” “I don’t know,” he said, only half-listening as he searched for his boxer shorts. “Why do you ask?” “No reason,” she said. “Just making conversation. But as you’re so keen to get going, and I’m staying for breakfast, I’d better make myself look presentable.” “I think you look great as you are.” Jamie tried to give her what he hoped was a sexy, slow-burning smile, but she simply laughed. So much for that then. “You might, but I’m sure the rest of your family will disagree. Speaking of which, don’t worry if you need to rush off to help your father. I won’t mind. With his arthritis, mornings will be the worst time.” “Sometimes…it depends.” He reached for his jeans and stepped into them. “I tend to leave it for a while and see if he comes downstairs by himself first. He’s not an invalid.” Then feeling he’d said too much about what was, after all, family stuff, Jamie shut up. Lucy said nothing in reply, but as he dressed, he could feel her eyes still on him. Moving around the room, he gathered and folded clothes discarded from last night and 147

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straightened the pictures on the dressing-table, which they’d knocked over in their eagerness to get into bed. The memory made him smile. “Tell me,” she said at last, “are you always this tidy?” He didn’t have a chance to reply. When he turned around, Lucy was standing naked in the middle of the room. As he stared at her, she grinned back, slung his dressing gown over her shoulders and came to stand next to him. “So, who are all these people in the photos?” she asked, putting her arm round his waist. It was funny how women could move like a mountain goat from one question to the next and, if you didn’t have your eyes wide open, you would never see the join. Jamie pointed them out to her one by one. It felt strange, as if he were letting her see things he didn’t want her to. That was a crazy thought and he shook his head to get rid of it. “That’s Dad when younger, much younger,” he said, “in his RAF uniform. Here he is again, later on. This one’s my mother and this is me. And here’s a family snap of Dad and me, which Robert took when I was eighteen.” He stopped talking. “None of your brother?” she asked after a moment. “Half-brother,” he corrected her. “No. There’s plenty of him downstairs and in Dad’s room.” “They’re nice,” she said after a short pause. “I know your mother died when you were quite young. I’m sorry. Do you remember her at all?” “No, I don’t. It was too long ago, you know?” Again, Lucy was silent. Then she gave Jamie a quick hug. When she let go, he put down the photographs with a thump 148

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and had his own attempt at changing the subject. “Look, if you’d like a shower or bath, the bathroom’s left out of here and then first door on the right. Do you want me to stay here and wait?” “No. You go ahead, and I’ll come down and join you.” Jamie wasn’t the first one up. In the kitchen, Allie was bustling around the table, switching the kettle on and humming tunelessly to herself. “’Morning, Jamie,” she said. “I’ve laid places for five. Would that be right?” “Yeah, great.” He blushed, cursing his coloring. With red hair, the slightest thing always made him fire up. “Any chance of you letting me do some real food?” “And what exactly is wrong with muesli and freshly-squeezed orange juice?” “You want a list?” “Nonsense. Still, if you’re trying to impress Lucy, maybe I could let you take over today. On the other hand, if I were really being kind, I could do it for you. We don’t want you using up your strength, do we?” Seeing the look on his face, she took pity on him. “Sorry, but I couldn’t resist it. You are family, after all. Here, drink this and go keep out of my way while I get things sorted.” She thrust a mug of steaming coffee into his hands, and he gave her a kiss on the cheek and wandered into the living room. Pulling back the curtains, he sat on the nearest chair and gazed out at the garden. Upstairs, he could hear the faint sound of the shower. Closing his eyes, he sipped the coffee, relishing the heady scent of darkness and the thrill of being alone for a while. The exuberance of waking up with Lucy hadn’t lasted and now he felt nothing but a vague unease. 149

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He was being ridiculous. Without any more fuss, he put it down to post-New Year’s blues and told himself to forget it. Life was good now; that was all he needed to think about. After ten minutes or so, Lucy came downstairs, hair washed, and dressed in yesterday’s clothes, but with one of Jamie’s jumpers. “Okay to wear this for the moment?” she asked, as he sprang to his feet. “Sure. It suits you better than it does me. Keep it.” She laughed. “Thanks, but it wouldn’t go with the uniform.” “You’re probably right. Is the shower free?” “No, not yet. Mark was outside when I came out.” “He’ll be ages. Better have some breakfast first.” In the kitchen, Allie was just adding slices of bacon to a fry-up that smelt like heaven. She’d added a couple of his father’s special sausages as well, which would please him. Mouth watering, Jamie tried to snatch a mushroom from the pan, but his sister-in-law gave him a sharp rap over the knuckles with the fish-slicer. “Ouch, that hurt!” He winced. “Serves you right for stealing. And don’t be such a baby. Not when Lucy is here.” Allie smiled and turned to face their guest. “Lucy, hello. I won’t ask if you slept well. Would you like a coffee?” “Yes, please. Can I help?” Allie nodded and the two women began to work in unison, chatting away all the while. Jamie sat down and watched them, waiting for Mark and Dad to turn up. When the two stragglers arrived fifteen minutes later, he was already wiping the juice from his plate as Allie and Lucy shared the last piece of toast. 150

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“Hey, Allie,” Mark said as he swept into the kitchen trailing Jamie’s father in his wake, “that smells good. Did you save me any?” “Uh-huh. It’s in the oven.” Turning, Mark caught sight of Lucy and smirked. “Hello, Lucy. I don’t imagine you’re doing any physiotherapy today, are you?” “Mark,” Allie warned as his father hobbled across the kitchen. In that respect, Lucy was right; he did take a long time to get going in the mornings. Gazing round the kitchen and blinking in the harsh light, his father stared at Lucy as if he couldn’t quite place her. “Lucy? Is that you?” “Yes, Dad, it is,” Jamie said. And then, despite all his reassurances, he couldn’t think of anything useful to say. Lucy could, though, thank God. “Hello, Mr. Chadwick. Sorry to impose on you like this, but I wasn’t able to get home last night, and Jamie was kind enough to let me stay here. I hope that’s all right with you?” Jamie stared at her in admiration. It even sounded as if it might be true. “Yes. Yes, of course,” Dad said. “That was very kind of Jamie, very kind indeed. We’re always happy to help, Lucy dear, as you know. Did you sleep well? The spare room can be cold and I wouldn’t like to think…” Mark snorted, and Allie shot him a look that spoke daggers. “Of you being cold. You could always have asked Jamie for some blankets. Jamie, I hope you—” “Yes, Dad,” Jamie cut him off before the conversation strayed into areas too dangerous to contemplate. “She was fine. Weren’t you, Lucy?” 151

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“Never better, Mr. Chadwick. I had a wonderful night, thank you.” He grinned at her, while his father subsided into a satisfied silence, and Mark and Allie struggled to look serious. For a while, they ate breakfast in silence. That is, the men did. Lucy and Allie discussed the party, or at least the parts of it open to public consumption—village gossip and the weather. He wondered if Lucy would stay on. Maybe they could spend the day together. That would be good, wouldn’t it? He was serious about her. Wasn’t he? There was something about her, though, that still made him feel unsettled. As if there was a barrel load of stuff going on underneath that she wouldn’t let him see, or she was judging him in some way he couldn’t understand. But she must like him, in spite of all her teasing of the last few weeks. She’d stayed the night with him, hadn’t she? Come off it. Don’t be stupid. It was early days. What did he expect at this stage? “Jamie?” At the sound of Mark’s voice, Jamie’s head jerked up from his close meditation of the second helping of bacon congealing on his plate. “What?” “Pardon, Jamie, pardon,” his father muttered, waving around the last portion of sausage on his fork as if it were a conductor’s baton. “I was just asking what you thought of it all.” Of what? “Yes, it’s difficult, but whatever, really,” he mumbled, not wanting to look a fool in front of Lucy. His half-brother gave him a quizzical look, then, to Jamie’s annoyance, he, Allie and Lucy exchanged amused glances. “He’s in a world of his own sometimes, Lucy,” Allie said, 152

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before carrying on with a conversation about the village shop. When a suitable pause came, Jamie launched into the invitation he’d made up in his head. “So, Lucy,” he said, “have you got any plans for the day?” No, that was hopeless, not romantic enough. He sounded like he was asking her if she might want to stay and do the housework. “Physio admin,” she replied. “As always, I’ve left it to the last minute. And I really have to sort out the washing and tidy the flat, that kind of thing.” “Right,” he said, and then took his small amount of social courage in both hands. A major feat when all the family was gathered ’round, but he thought with Dad in the room she couldn’t be too scathing. “Would you like to stay? We can do stuff, anything you like.” He glanced at her to try to gauge her reaction, but she seemed to be neither happy nor sad. Instead she was gazing through the window and smiling at the antics of a couple of squirrels in the back garden. Waiting for her response was like walking on ice. Even Mark and Allie might have stopped breathing. Dad simply sipped his tea. “That’s very kind, Jamie,” she said at last. “But I do really have a lot to do. You know, I wish I had a garden like yours.” “Yes, it’s great, isn’t it?” Mark chipped in. “I’d be more than happy to give you a quick look ’round if you’d like.” Jamie glared at him, and Allie gave her husband a stern glance. “Nonsense, Mark, I need your help in the kitchen,” she said. “Anyway, I’m sure Lucy would much prefer to go for a stroll in the garden with Jamie if she’s going to go with anyone.” “Sure, that would be great,” Lucy agreed. “If you’d like to, that is?” 153

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Leaping up, Jamie put his arm round Lucy’s shoulders, and they walked outside. The air was heavy with the scent of rain and both of them shivered in the cold. “Typical New Year weather.” She grimaced. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said, enjoying the feel of her body next to his and not really paying attention. They didn’t say anything else as they wandered round the garden. She’d already seen it at the party, of course—not that he wanted to think about that too much—and so together they admired without comment the small fountain designed by Jamie’s mother, the shaded bench, a brace of apple trees and the stream that meandered through the rear. It was Lucy who first broke the silence. “So what do we do now?” “We could go indoors. Get warm.” She laughed and hugged him. “No, silly. I mean what do we do about us? Do you think there’s anything long-term going on? I don’t know, do you?” His throat felt dry and, for a moment, he was unable to speak. So she was still thinking about how well he measured up to whatever standards she was using. Once again, she was back to the mysterious Lucy, the one who made him feel at a loss. “What do you mean?” She fixed him with an intense stare. “I know boys don’t like to talk about this sort of thing, but I’d like to get our immediate plans sorted out. Now. So I know where we stand.” “Where we stand?” He echoed her words like a confused parrot, realizing he was losing any control he might have had over the situation. Which was turning out to be not very much. “Yes, where we stand. I see it like this…sex with you is nice. 154

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But women need more than just sex, you know. We prefer some sort of emotional connection, too, however tenuous. So, do we want to be an item or don’t we?” Jamie blinked. Sex with him was only nice? God, he’d have to try harder. “Well? What do you say?” “I don’t know. No one’s ever been as up-front as you. Not around here anyway,” he stammered, playing for time. “But I like you, a lot, and yes, it would be great to go out with you.” She stepped backwards and looked up into his face. “Yes, I thought as much.” Then she turned round and made as if to continue their upuntil-that-moment pleasant stroll. “Hang on, Lucy.” He felt as if he’d stepped out on a branch way above ground only to have it lopped off by a passing stranger. “What do you mean? What about you?” She paused and folded her arms. Jamie thought she might be crying, but he had no idea why. “Sorry,” she said. “Just forget it. I need to think about things. Is that okay?” “Sure.” He shrugged, confusion short-circuiting this brain. “Just don’t take too long, will you?” She said nothing in reply, but as they strolled round towards the door, she slipped her arm through his and gave his elbow a friendly squeeze. Jamie felt cold. He felt as if he’d failed her. What was going on? They returned to the welcoming warmth of the kitchen, and within ten minutes, Lucy said goodbye to his father and Mark, happily ensconced in the living room together, hugged Allie and was getting into Jamie’s car for the journey home. 155

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By the time they drove up to her flat and he’d parked outside, switching the engine off, he still had no idea how to salvage whatever mess he’d made. “Look, Lucy,” he began, but before he could complete the thought, let alone the sentence, she kissed him. And what a kiss it was. The sort of kiss that reeked of sex and promised the world. From holding hands to dressing up and everything in between. It was she who broke away first. And it was she who was first able to speak. “Okay, Jamie, I like you, too,” she said, taking his face between her hands and with an expression of concentration he hadn’t seen before. “I don’t want to make things difficult. Sorry if I was edgy earlier on. Let’s see how it works out, shall we?” “So we’re an item then?” She let him go. “Yes, but let’s keep an open mind anyway,” she replied. With that, she got out of the car. But there was more he wanted to find out. “So what about coming ’round for dinner next week? Say, Thursday? I could cook something.” She smiled. And the sparkle of laughter was back in her eyes, all seriousness gone. “Before sex? Now that would be a novelty. And I could bring you back your jumper.”

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CHAPTER 14 If things worked out between Lucy and him, Jamie promised he’d ditch that fantasy hit list of victims and be a model son and citizen. But before Thursday arrived, there was Tuesday. His father and he waved goodbye to Mark and Allie, and it was once again the start of another working year. Which meant there was Nick to face. Jamie hadn’t seen him since Nick had aimed a punch at him at the Christmas dance and he was willing to bet not many new bosses had to work out how to react if their employees attacked them. Still, he couldn’t help but be impressed Nick had done that for Carina, as he was sure Nick wasn’t the violent type. Would he himself do the same for Lucy? Walking back from the village shop, clutching fresh supplies of 157

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milk and bread for the day, he could still hear Mrs. Bradley’s teasing echoing in his ears. “Well, well, Jamie Chadwick,” she’d said when she looked up from the counter, “which girl is it today then?” “What?” “I don’t know. First poor Carina, and now I hear you’re with young Lucy. Mind you, she’s a deep one, isn’t she? I’m sure she can hold her own with you. At your age, you really ought to be settling down.” “I don’t think I—” “I’m sure you don’t! But you seem to be gallivanting around so much these days that I really don’t know what will become of you. Your father was never like this, and even Mark knew a good thing when he saw it.” This didn’t seem fair. Mark had got lucky with Allie that was all. And okay, Jamie might be making a mess of working out who he was with, but he was out of practice and it wasn’t for want of trying. If she weren’t careful, Mrs. Bradley might find herself appearing on that hit list of his. As Jamie took his provisions and left, hoping for an easy exit, Mrs. Bradley had called out with suppressed laughter, “Be careful of that Nick, though. I hear he’s still sore about the dance.” Ouch, that hurt. Ruddy villagers, he thought, on the brisk walk along the High Street back home. Sometimes he wished he lived in a town. What he wouldn’t give for being anonymous. Just once. And now here was Nick, standing hunched like a refugee by the front door. “Happy New Year,” Jamie said, pausing to get out the key and making a split-second decision to ignore the whole incident at the dance. “Did you have a good break?” 158

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In reply, Nick mumbled something he couldn’t hear. “What was that?” The second time, he made out the word “yes” and pushed open the door. “Come on in then.” Upstairs, Nick sat down at the computer, his back toward Jamie. This policy of avoidance wasn’t working and Jamie gazed at him. They couldn’t carry on like this. Something would have to be done. And it was up to him to do it. “Nick,” he said. He swung round to face Jamie and ran a shaking hand through his hair, almost knocking his own glasses off. “Look, I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” “Shut up for a moment. Please,” Jamie said. “Let me finish.” Instant silence. “I’m sorry about what happened at Christmas. I was out of line. I didn’t mean to hurt Carina. I like her very much, for God’s sake, but I didn’t handle it well. I can see how you’d want to lay one on me and I don’t blame you. If things were the other way round, I might have done the same. I don’t know. But let’s get things in perspective. If you’re still happy to work with me, then I believe we can make a go of what I’ve got on this year. Especially in terms of the big conference. At least until Easter, when I know you might want to go off travelling again. Does that sound reasonable to you?” “Thanks, Jamie. And I am sorry about what happened.” “Forget it.” He shrugged. “Just remember one thing.” “Yeah?” “Next time you feel like punching the boss, give me some warning, would you?” He nodded. 159

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“Good.” Jamie smiled. “In that case, let’s get started. Before the ruddy phone warms up.” A few minutes went by, during which Jamie checked through the emails and looked at Robert’s conference website. He could see Nick was deep in accounts work and began to open the post, just as his colleague took several quick breaths and turned round. “Er, Jamie?” he said, and stopped. “Yes?” A pause ensued, during which he could hear the faint sound of the breeze pushing a branch against the office window. Scrape, scrape. Scrape, scrape. Several more seconds ticked by. What on earth was up? “Are you still interested?” Nick said in a strangled voice. “Hmm?” he prompted, putting down the letter he was holding. “Interested in what?” “What I mean to say is… I mean, are you still interested in Carina?” he said in a rush. Oh, God. Jamie had already used up his daily store of male emoting and didn’t know if he had any reserve supply to hand, but he couldn’t ignore him. “As I said, I like Carina very much. But the real question is: is she interested in me any more? And I would say the answer is no. Wouldn’t you?” Nick shrugged. “Besides,” he went on in a flurry of inspiration, “I’m not really her type. I think Carina would prefer someone more serious and…steady. Someone who knows what he wants and goes all out to get it.” “Oh.” Jamie could almost see Nick’s brain clicking for a few moments and then his colleague smiled before turning back to his 160

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computer. Feeling like the Limewater Agony Uncle, Jamie shook his head and got on with his work. *

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By the end of the day, and after several enthusiastic phone calls to ICA, he’d planned the next three months and the whole of the preparations needed for the July conference. Before Nick went home, Jamie printed off the timetable and told him to read it before he got up, before he went to bed and after every meal; it was what he himself intended to do and anything else that got in the way would have to wait. Nick left the office, clutching the details in his hand and looking serious. With that expression on his face, Jamie hoped he’d bump into Carina on the journey home. Alone, he ran up every page of Robert’s website on the computer again and stared at them, determined to smoke out each problem before it went online next week. He found it easier to think of their old family friend in a business context only. Which was where of course he belonged, and were Jamie was determined he was going to stay. So he smiled as he realized Robert had added in a few clips to illustrate the subjects of the talks as far as they knew them at the moment. Only Robert could think of making international tax law the light-hearted option. Jamie just hoped the speakers could handle the way he’d marketed them. He was about to bring up the next page when he saw the last frame wasn’t functioning in the way it should. Good job he’d had a final run through before the customer got wind of it. Setting it off again, he realized he had no idea how to fix it. He’d have to call Robert. Twenty rings later, it was obvious he wasn’t going to pick up the phone and the answering machine hadn’t clicked in. Jamie 161

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knew Robert always worked long hours and it was only just gone six P.M., but maybe this time he was out. Downstairs, his father was relaxing in front of the television and shuffled in his seat as Jamie poured a whisky. “Now you’ve got it open, could I have one, too?” His father beamed his pleasure across the room as Jamie reached for a second glass. “Lovely, I thought you’d say no. By the way, what’s for dinner?” Jamie made dinner and, at first, they ate in silence, but it wasn’t an edgy one. He’d tried Robert again with no success just before he’d burnt the packaged potatoes. Scraping off the worst of it, Jamie had uttered a prayer of thanks that his father’s taste buds had never been the best, at least in terms of vegetables. After a while, Dad coughed, fiddled with his cutlery for a few seconds and then said, “You seem very quiet tonight. Is everything all right in the office?” “Sure, it’s fine, thanks. I just need to get hold of Robert and sort something out, that’s all.” He glanced at his watch. “Why don’t you try him now if it’s worrying you? I know how much this means to you.” Before his father could say anything about how Jamie needed all the help he could get because he wasn’t capable of solving his own problems, he sprang up, cleared the plates, made Dad comfortable and ran upstairs to the office. This time he let the phone ring and ring. Come on, Robert. Be in. He needed to talk. “Hello, Robert Trevelyan’s residence. Can I help you?” The voice on the phone was David’s, and Jamie almost dropped the receiver. Before he could think of a reply, there was the sound of a muffled conversation on the other end of the line and Robert’s voice echoed in his ears. “This is Robert here. Can I 162

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help?” Jamie couldn’t get his mouth to form any words and the only sound that came out was a strangled grunt. “Hello? Hello? Who is this please?” “It’s me,” he managed at last. “Oh. Jamie.” There was the sound of more muted conversation before Robert spoke again. “Sorry about that. I’d forgotten about leaving the answering machine off. What can I do for you?” “I…I…” He couldn’t seem to think about what it was he’d wanted to ask. Why was David there? No, don’t think of it, he told himself, He knew why David was there. But it was madness. Robert and David? David and Robert? It would never work. Would it? Bloody hell. “Jamie? Are you all right?” “There’s nothing wrong with me.” The words came out more accusing than he intended them to be, so he stopped and swallowed the rest of them away. “Good. Glad to hear it. Anything on your mind?” Plenty, Jamie thought. But none of it was anything Robert would want to hear. “Nothing. I just need you to correct some errors on the web clips. The international tax law section?” “Of course. What’s wrong with it?” Jamie took a deep breath to steady himself and told him. “All right. I’ll look at it tomorrow and take care of it. Let you know when it’s ready. Mmm, stop it.” His last words weren’t meant for Jamie…that much was obvious. A wave of nausea rolled through his body and he felt cold. “Great, thanks,” Jamie said, and put down the phone. He needed another drink. And to see Lucy. Thursday couldn’t 163

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come fast enough. *

*

*

“Hi, Lucy,” he said, grinning at the vision of loveliness in green at the door. “Come in.” It was Thursday night. At last. His father was fed, watered and settled in his bedroom. Pasta, courtesy of Marks and Spencer, was bubbling away in the oven, with a few well-placed herbal additions, and wine chilled in the fridge. The stage was all set for a great evening. “I’ve brought your jumper back,” she said with a smile. “And flowers.” He took them both, but then was unable to move away, or let her in. They kissed for a while before Jamie even thought of closing the door. Not that he was aware of the cold. Lucy pushed him away in the end. “Let me in. I’m freezing.” “Sorry.” “No worries. But tell me what we’re eating. I’m starving.” “Pasta. And lots of it.” In the living room, he poured her a glass of wine, and she wandered over to gaze at the bookcases. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, have you read all these?” “Not the military history. That’s Dad’s. The rest of it is mine. From my university days. But I can’t remember anything about them now.” Putting down her glass, she rested her hands on his hips. “I’m not asking you to remember anything now.” “Good. Because I don’t think I can.” Before Jamie could draw breath, she’d pushed him down onto 164

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the sofa and begun to kiss him again. He kissed her back. This was moving fast. Faster than he could really handle. Again. Were only girls allowed to want the stage of “getting to know you better” first? There was no time to answer that question, as Lucy was already pulling his shirt free, undoing his buttons. It set up echoes in Jamie’s head he was too turned on to acknowledge. Instead, he unzipped the back of her dress and eased it down to her waist. Just as she reached over for her handbag and drew out a packet of condoms, the door opened and his father hobbled in. “Jamie, I thought I’d just say hello to Lucy before I…” At the sound of his father’s voice, Jamie stood up and swung around in one movement in an attempt to shield Lucy, trying at the same time to button up his shirt. “Dad? What the hell… I mean, what are you doing downstairs?” His father gaped at him, a lone drop of saliva at the corner of his mouth beginning to elongate into a globular strand. “What? What?” “Dad, why don’t you go upstairs?” Jamie cut in, hoping to calm him down. His father looked pale, and a twist of compassion and concern hit him. “Or you can stay here in the living room, if you’d rather. It’s not a problem.” All the time he was talking, Jamie was moving toward him, as if he were a frightened animal in need of soothing. His father backed away, as if he didn’t recognize him, still stammering. “Don’t worry, Mr. Chadwick,” Lucy’s voice rose above his father’s growing hysteria, managing to instill order. “I’m sorry we got a little carried away. Perhaps it’s best if I go?” Her last question was aimed toward Jamie and, while trying to lead Dad out of the door and away from the scene, he shook his 165

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head to indicate his dislike of her suggestion. “I know you young people want to be together,” his father said. “I just wanted to say hello before you settled down to eat. I’m so sorry my son has behaved like this, Lucy. How can we apologize? I’m so ashamed. I’m so…” “Dad, you don’t need to apologize.” “No need,” said Lucy, grinning, and Jamie could see she had taken the opportunity to slip her jacket on and was reaching for her gloves. “I’ll be off now, Mr. Chadwick, Jamie. I’ll see you both tomorrow at the usual time.” By this time, all three of them were in the hallway, and Lucy was making her way to the front door. How was this happening? He had to stop her. He’d been looking forward to seeing her all week. He needed to see her. Leaving his father leaning against the kitchen door, where he seemed relatively steady, Jamie grabbed her arm as gently as possible before she made her escape. “Lucy, you don’t have to go. I’ll sort this out. Dad will be fine. Just give me a few minutes, would you?” “I don’t think so.” She smiled and patted his cheek. “Your father’s had a bit of a shock and, as I’m the cause of it, I think it’s best if I go. He is one of my patients after all.” “Yes, but…but…” he stammered, making no sense. No change there. “But nothing, Jamie. I’m sorry about dinner, which I’m sure would’ve been lovely, but you can always freeze it. Maybe we’ll eat it another time.” “But when am I going to see you again?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t pick up on the begging note in his voice. Though he might as well have taken out a full-page advertisement in the 166

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Gazette: Jamie Chadwick is desperate to be with this woman and is prepared to humiliate himself in any way possible in order to do so. “Tomorrow, of course. You’ll see me tomorrow,” she said. “I meant…” “Yes, I know what you meant. I don’t know. Maybe we’ve been a bit too hasty. Let’s see how it goes, shall we?” Let’s see how it goes? She’d said that before, and Jamie still didn’t like it. What did she mean? Before he could open his mouth to ask, she was gone. Bloody hell. “Jamie?” Oh, God, Dad. He was still there, leaning against the wall. “Has Lucy gone? Why has she gone? But never mind, you need to…” “For God’s sake, Dad,” Jamie said, glaring at him, “never mind what I need to do. I’m doing my best. She’s gone, and I don’t think she’ll be back. At least not tonight.” “But I—” “There’s nothing you can say to make it better. Do you know what I wish sometimes? I wish… I wish…” But he couldn’t say what he wished. It was wrong. His head hurt. And punching the wall wouldn’t help either. “Jamie?” “Okay, what? What is it?” “I think there’s something burning in the kitchen.” “Bloody hell!” When he opened the kitchen door, plumes of black smoke billowed from the oven. Within a couple of seconds, he’d turned off the electricity and tossed a full jug of water over the burnt 167

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offering inside. It was the best he could think of to do. The pasta, when he finally extricated it from its watery tomb, looked as limp as he felt. So much for his night of love and resolution.

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CHAPTER 15 “Hi there, Jamie. I hear your father might’ve spoiled your evening with Lucy last week?” The question was followed by a high-pitched giggle and, from his usual position at The King’s Head corner table, Jamie swung round and glared at the owner of it. It was David. Who else? This time, he was wearing a bright red shirt, with frills, and trousers. Jamie wished he’d brought a pair of dark glasses. “Thanks a lot. Do you have to broadcast it quite so loudly?” he said, catching sight of Michael trying to stop laughing behind the bar. “Sorry,” David replied, drawing up a chair. “I didn’t think I was being loud. I’m just interested, that’s all.” “No need, nothing happened.” 169

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“Bad luck.” He smirked, ruining the impression of care and concern. “Aren’t you drinking then?” Jamie asked him. “This is a pub, you know.” “Yeah, I know. I’m all for supporting local industry and I’ve already put in my order.” “Oh, has Robert decided on a quick drink after all?” “It’s not Robert. It’s Lucy. It was her turn.” Jamie choked. But she was his girlfriend. Possibly. If she wanted to go out for a drink, he would have been more than happy to buy her whatever she liked. David should be here with Robert, seeing as the two of them were such good friends all of a sudden. Why hasn’t Lucy answered my calls? Looking up now, he could see her walking toward them, all dark hair and long legs. It made it hard to breathe. “Nice to see you here.” She smiled as Jamie offered her his chair and went to get another. “I thought you’d be working. Again.” “Not much he can do,” David cut in, apparently now au fait with his business life as well. “Robert’s doing something whizzy to the website at the moment. You know, this huge project that’s taking over all their waking hours.” “That’s not true. It’s a very important piece of work for me and—” “Yes, I know. So you and Robert keep saying. But there are other things to think about,” David went on, looking at Lucy. Jamie looked at her as well. As David chattered on, she smiled and sipped her wine. Of course, he knew there were more pressing things to consider than work. If she’d simply give him a chance, a real one, then work would be so far down on his priority list that he 170

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might never open the office door again. Apart from the fact he liked his job and needed to pay the bills, of course. He smiled back at her. And kept on smiling. It must have been sickening for David, who, after five minutes, put down his empty glass, gave an exaggerated sigh, and got up. “What? Leaving already?” Lucy asked. But she didn’t make a move to stop him. “Yes. Things to do, people to see, you know? Well, there would be if Robert wasn’t so busy all the time.” “You sure?” Jamie said. “Okay then, see you soon.” “My cue to leave, I think,” David said, swinging his jacket over his shoulders. A couple of seconds later he was gone. Michael called out, “Good night,” and the door clicked shut. Lucy and Jamie continued staring at each other. If staring was an Olympic sport, then they’d be up for one of the medals, no contest. “So, what happens now?” he said when his eyes were getting tired. She picked up a beer-mat and began to tear it into tiny shreds. He hoped Michael wasn’t looking. It was one of his special souvenir ones from Spain. When he reached for her hand, she drew it away. “There’s something wrong, isn’t there?” he said. “If it’s anything to do with me, then I—” “Wait, Jamie.” He waited. She took a deep breath and seemed on the brink of saying something before she shook her head and let the breath out again. “If I ask you something personal, will you give me an answer? A truthful one?” “Sure. I’ll try.” He kept his expression neutral while his mind 171

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sped through the range of possibilities she might mean. What was she going to ask? As suddenly as the tide turns in Frinton, the mood changed and she burst out laughing. “What?” he said, struggling to gain a sense of what she was about. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing,” she replied between waves of laughter. “It’s just that you look like you’ve got indigestion. Or worse.” “I’m fine. I was only…” “Don’t be cross. Not when I was just about to get to the point.” He wasn’t cross, simply confused. Again. He had no idea what she wanted but at that moment he would have given her anything. Champagne, London, the stars. Maybe even himself. If he could just get his act together properly. “And the point is?” He found he was laughing with her in spite of everything. “Talk to me, Lucy, please.” “Okay.” She stopped laughing. “The thing is I don’t want a relationship. Not really. Not right now. I was involved with someone else recently, someone I really loved. He was part of the reason I moved here and changed where I worked. When I think about him, it still hurts.” Ah. So that’s it then. Jamie couldn’t blame her. Stuff happened. He was the wrong bloke at the wrong time, again, but he was sorry for it. And her. Oh well, back to normality and a life of monastic celibacy. And then she took his breath away. “But I like you very much, Jamie. And if I can say this without making you go red, I liked sleeping with you as well. On the 172

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whole. So how about we just keep having that part of it and forget the relationship stuff? We could be friends, friends who have sex, couldn’t we? These days, everyone does it.” Did they? He had no idea. In fact, he had no real idea what she was asking or what she wanted, although she couldn’t have made it any clearer. But this was Limewater, and he’d only ever slept with girls he was going out with. He didn’t live in the town. “Look,” Lucy said, getting up, “I can see I’ve shocked you. I’m sorry. You’re a nice bloke, if weird at times. Why don’t I get going, and you can forget all about it. Or maybe you can at least think about it? One of us can ring the other over the next few days. You can let me know.” “Okay. Well, I don’t know if it is okay, but—” Leaning over, she touched his cheek with one cool finger, and Jamie was lost. “Don’t decide now. Decide later.” He couldn’t wait that long. It felt as if he needed her more than anything else in the world. This was nothing more than a different way of starting a relationship. She was being careful after the break-up she’d mentioned, but once they started seeing each other properly on a regular basis, then the relationship part would follow. Wouldn’t it? He desperately hoped so. So for better or worse, he made the decision. “What’s wrong with now? It’s a good idea. I think. Come back home with me and I’m sure I can keep Dad out of the way. This time.” She laughed. “Thank you. I’m sure you can, but I’m not worried about him.” “So there’s no problem then.” “I think you’ll find there is.” 173

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“Name it.” “Robert. Isn’t he working at your place tonight?” Yes, she was right. He was. *

*

*

Robert, indeed, was a problem, so Lucy and Jamie agreed they’d go to her flat at the weekend. After waving her off, he walked back alone across the fields, still feeling spaced out about what he’d just done. All the time he cursed Robert’s need to view his papers in situ and therefore stop his would-be relationship with Lucy from a quick beginning. It was cloudy, but, for January, not that cold. Jamie always enjoyed being out in the countryside at night, alone with his own thoughts. Not that he’d had much chance to do this lately. It was another world at night. The animals or birds he glimpsed were badgers and owls, not foxes or pheasants, and the sounds he heard were all different from those that belonged to the day. The pub had been quite busy and the contrasting silence was more than welcome. Making his way through the woods at the bottom of the garden, he jumped over the stream and headed up to the house. The light in the office was on, so he trotted upstairs, and headed there, after checking that all was quiet with his father. Robert was frowning at the computer screen. “Good night out?” he asked, without looking at Jamie. “You’re back early. I’m not finished yet.” “Great, I wanted to see what you were doing. How’s Dad been?” “Fine. Very tired, though.” 174

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He glanced up as Jamie peered at what he was doing on the site and then looked again. “You look different. What have you been up to?” “Nothing.” He raised one eyebrow, and Jamie felt his face grow hot. He was fed up with this. Why couldn’t he have another kind of face— one that never displayed his worries? He hated the fact people always seemed to have the advantage when things got awkward. “Never mind me,” Jamie said. “Tell me how the project is going and where you’re up to now.” He did. In detail. Over the next half hour or so, Jamie learned more about Robert’s state-of-the-art web knowledge and the gizmos he’d added to attract the delegates to the conference than he needed to. But it was a revelation, that was for sure. Robert made an off-line copy of the whole package, and Jamie spent some time checking the various options for entry and seeing how they could handle different needs and backgrounds of the online visitors they might get. Once, their arms brushed, but Jamie pulled away and tried to steady his breathing, while Robert carried on with the explanation, apparently unaware that anything might be wrong. All the time, Robert talked about levels of what he called “stickiness,” the importance of electronic customer relationship management, speed of delivery and future planning. By the look of it now, nearly six months before D-Day, it was going well, with an encouraging number of web-assisted entries and requests for information. Jamie had no complaints. When he’d finished, Robert sat back and folded his arms. “Well?” “You know your stuff, don’t you?” 175

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“Of course. And?” “It’s great. Thank you. I owe you a lot, Robert.” “That’s good to hear. Your side of things isn’t going so badly either, I see.” “Sure. I’m a genius.” He laughed, and Jamie found himself smiling back. “So,” he said, getting up from the chair next to Robert, “how’s your office set-up going? I don’t want to take up too much of your time.” “You don’t.” Jamie thought he would continue, but instead had to prompt him. “Better than I should expect,” Robert said, “but not as quickly as I’d hoped. Things move slowly in the UK, don’t they? I’d forgotten that.” “Well, if there’s anything I can do to help.” “No, I don’t think so, but thank you. You know you’re welcome to view the place whenever you want to. I’d like that.” “No, that’s fine, thanks.” Jamie walked to the other side of the room to draw the curtains. “I’ll wait till it’s ready. Along with everyone else, I mean. I don’t want to hold you up.” Robert switched off the computer and muttered something Jamie couldn’t catch. Downstairs, he said a brief goodbye to Dad and strode down the hallway to the front door. Shrugging on his coat, Robert couldn’t seem to get out into the freezing air fast enough. On the threshold, however, he paused as if in mid flight. “Well, goodbye,” he said. “I’d…I’d best get back. See how David is doing.” Bloody hell. 176

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Jamie opened his mouth to reply, but Robert hadn’t finished with him yet. “And if I’m not mistaken about that particular glow that’s on you tonight, you, of course, will want to get back to Lucy.” *

*

*

“Coffee? Water? Gin?” Stretching out on the unfamiliar bed, Jamie opened his eyes to see Lucy pinning back her hair. “What a choice. But you don’t have to do that, you know.” “Do what?” “Put your hair up. You look great with it down.” “Typical man. That’s fine for you to say, but yours doesn’t flop over your forehead and get in your eyes every two minutes. Besides, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not wearing anything. You can look at other parts of me as well.” “I’d noticed.” He lunged at her to prove it, but, giggling, she slipped out of his grasp and instead put on her dressing gown and flung open the curtains. The rays of the late Sunday afternoon sun lit up the soft cream-and-rose walls and caught Jamie’s eye, blinding him. He dived under the covers, groaning. “For God’s sake, Lucy, turn off that light out there. It’s too strong.” “Wimp,” she said and began to strip away his protection. “Come on, lazybones. Get up. It isn’t even five o’clock yet.” “Don’t be mean. I’ve been hard at work for hours.” “Twenty minutes, more like.” “Hey, that’s not fair. It was definitely longer. I checked my watch before we started and—” 177

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“You checked the time? Why, you!” She grabbed one of the dusky pink pillows and began to beat Jamie with it. “Stop it! You’ve got the advantage. You’ve got clothes on now, and I haven’t.” “What’s that got to do with anything?” “No idea, but I’m sure it must have something to do with it, so perhaps we ought to make things a bit fairer?” This time he succeeded in grabbing her and, after several seconds, in spite of her half-hearted protests, she was as naked as he was. Later, laying together side by side, not talking, Jamie stared up at the white patterned ceiling above and wondered again why he still felt so unsettled and whether she was his girlfriend or not. She must be, mustn’t she? After all, over the last three or four weeks, they’d slept together two, even three, times every week. Yes, they were going out, in a fashion. Well, they never actually went out. They simply stayed in and made love. As she’d said, it was modern, and Lucy seemed happy enough. He should just go with it, relax and enjoy what he had for a change. Time to stop analyzing. Time to start living. Maybe time to stop thinking quite so much about things he couldn’t change or didn’t want to change. “So, I never did get that coffee, did I?” he said. “Or water. Or gin.” “Poor you. I’m crying at the pity of it all.” “So I see. How about it then?” “What?” She turned to look at him, opening her eyes wide. “More sex? So soon?” “Now look, give me some time, would you? Who do you think 178

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I am? Superman? I was talking about a drink.” “Hmm, I see. No, thanks, I don’t want one. I’m going to take a shower.” “Right, that’s it! If you want a shower, I’m going to make sure you get it.” Lucy shrieked as Jamie lifted her up into his arms and staggered in the most manly fashion he could muster across the corridor and into the bathroom, thanking all the gods that neither of her flatmates was in today. She shrieked even more when he deposited her in the shower and turned the cold water on full blast. He joined in when she caught him off balance in his bid to escape and turned the jet in his direction. If she wanted sex, that wasn’t the way to go about it. She only forgave him when Jamie had made her a coffee and poured himself a Coke. Glancing at his watch, he drained his drink and got up. “I’d better go,” he said. “Dad will be calling out the police at this rate. If only to get them to find where I’ve hidden the will.” “Come on…he loves you, you know.” Jamie shrugged. Not as much as he does Mark. “No. Really. He’s your father.” “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’d better go. Sorry to leave you with the washing-up.” “Liar,” she said, and then added, “I suppose I’ll see you at the vicarage on Wednesday, will I?” He stared at her, not having the first idea what she was talking about. “Sorry?” “The vicarage? Wednesday?” “Oh, right, you mean, the fete planning. I’d forgotten all about that. Good job you reminded me. I didn’t know you were going, 179

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though. It’s usually just for the Limewater stalwarts.” “Not this year. David’s really keen, so I said I’d go along, if only to referee between him and the rest of the world. You know what he’s like.” “Is Robert going?” he asked. “I’ve no idea, and David didn’t say. You’ll have to ask him yourself.” But Jamie knew he wouldn’t. *

*

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By the time Wednesday night arrived, Dad had worked himself up into such a froth of excitement that Jamie wondered whether he should be increasing his father’s dosage of relaxation pills, or whether he should be taking them himself. Supporting the annual Spring Bank Holiday Limewater fete was a Chadwick tradition, and they always did something for it, whether it was running the coconut shy or the lucky dip. So Wednesday night found them both huddled on the sofa at the vicarage. At least meeting on her home ground and with a common cause might make things easier between Carina and him. And this year, it was a common cause with an additional problem. Mrs. Bradley was usually in charge of the fete, as she was of so much else. She always ran it with all the confidence and military precision of a general on war maneuvers. But this year, according to John, she’d been invited to a golden wedding celebration in Scotland on the weekend in question, which left the role of leader and organizer vacant. They all, except his father, cowered back into their seats and tried to avoid the vicar’s searching gaze. When he came to Dad, who was leaning forward 180

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with a bright smile on his pale face, John blinked and moved on. “As you can see,” the vicar continued as he handed the last cup of tea to Nick, “that leaves us with something of a problem.” Everyone mumbled something supportive, and Jamie took the opportunity to try to assess the leadership potential of the group. Who would be king, or queen, this year? He hoped to God it wasn’t him. The amount of organization these sorts of events took would never be believed by anyone who didn’t live in a village. He made a mental note to fall back on the excuse of his big conference if asked to step forward. But who else might take charge? At the head of the table, the vicar was out of the running. He was the managing consultant of the show, the master of ceremonies, and couldn’t be expected to take on the organization as well. Not with the enormous task of caring for their souls, such as they were. At his side, Carina, who, Jamie was pleased to see, was now smiling at him without any sign of embarrassment, was the moon to her father’s sun, reflecting the light of a higher power. And she had studying to do. She was safe, as well as being too young. Ditto for Nick, minus the studying. Nick didn’t usually help at the planning stage, though. Maybe he was only here to get a chance to spend more time with Carina. Either that or his great aunt had maneuvered family politics so he was forced to attend. She had the guts to do it, too. Right now, Mary herself looked as if she were about to do battle, and bearing in mind that normally the chances of elbowing in on Mrs. Bradley’s traditional territory were virtually nil, perhaps she was. She must have done something to frighten off the Bradley daughters, Jamie thought, as none of them had put in an appearance to maintain the family honor. Next to her, Lucy met his gaze. No, she couldn’t be in charge, 181

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not with her work commitments. It would be unthinkable. But he was glad she was here. Even though he hadn’t managed to grab the space next to her. David sat next to her, tonight dressed almost normally in cords and casual shirt, with the only hint of color being his red-and-purple-spotted cravat. Why? Perhaps he was dressing down for the vicar’s sake. Who could tell? A slight frown shadowed his face, and Jamie wondered how John would feel about trusting David with the fete organization. Somehow, he felt David could do it, given the chance, but the case against his friend was strong. He was a newcomer and here it could take several generations before anyone could count on their seat always being vacant in The King’s Head, let alone anything important. Next to him, but not too close, sat Robert. Another newcomer, or rather returner. Jamie doubted he would want the honor. And next to him was Jamie’s father, who looked even paler than before. He frowned and decided to keep a close eye on his father, just in case. John put on his reading glasses and placed a thick wad of papers in front of his nose. The evening had started. “Now then,” he said calling them to order with an efficiency born of long practice, “as you know, the Limewater Village fete takes place at the end of May, on the last bank holiday, so that gives us about three months to sort everything out.” “You make it sound like a military operation.” David laughed. “Surely it can’t be that problematic?” Hmm, Jamie thought, a point against him. And so soon. John, Carina and Mary turned and stared at David without speaking, and he stopped laughing at once. “It can be,” the vicar said with a sigh. “Especially as we have Easter to contend with in the middle of it all.” 182

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“Of course,” Mary added, nodding, “and that means the ladies of the village will be busy decorating the church for at least a few days before that. The nearer the date, the more help is needed. I remember when—” “Yes, indeed. Which reminds me, I must ask Mrs. Bradley if she’s still happy to organize the flower rota for the summer.” John mused for a moment before coming back to the matter in hand. “Anyway, as I said, we’ve got three months and we need to have enough stalls to make it worthwhile for people to come, as well as raising at least some of the money needed for the roof.” “How much is that then?” Nick asked. “I can’t remember the latest figures off hand, but it’s something in the region of fifty thousand pounds.” David gave a low whistle. “God! Oh sorry, John. I mean, that’s got to be some fete, hasn’t it?” “We don’t expect to raise the whole sum at once,” Carina chipped in. “But people in the area are very generous with their giving, and it all mounts up.” “How much did you raise last year?” Robert asked. “Nearly two thousand pounds,” Mary said with understandable pride. “We were lucky with the weather, and there are no guarantees with that.” “True,” Lucy said. “On the other hand, people will come out of loyalty to a local event, won’t they? No matter what the weather is doing.” “Yes,” Carina agreed. “That’s always the case.” “But they spend more if it’s sunny,” replied Nick, smiling at Carina. He got little response for his efforts and looked away. Poor Nick. Jamie hoped matters improved soon. If they did, his work might get better. Jamie was starting to have to double-check 183

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his efforts. Not something he really had the time for these days. “Perhaps we should concentrate on the things we can control,” Robert suggested. “The weather’s out of our hands.” Everyone nodded in agreement and there was a short pause, after which Jamie’s father said, “It’s all so exciting, isn’t it? I’m so looking forward to helping again this year. Just like the old days. What are we going to do? Will there be games?” “First off,” David said, “if I were back in the city, we’d probably be putting together an action plan, followed by another meeting to discuss options, then another one to choose suitable leaders, followed by a final one to pick who was going to do the dirty work. But I suppose there’s no time for the niceties here, is there?” Lucy giggled, and John frowned, shuffling his papers into a different order. Under Robert’s stern gaze, David subsided for a moment before continuing in a more serious tone, “What sort of things happened last year anyway? That might help.” Instantly there was a flurry of answers. “Jams and jellies. From the WI.” “A bottle stall,” Jamie chipped in, thinking David might be more enthusiastic about wine than jam. “Lucky dip bran tub. Or there would have been if the youth club from Stanton Green hadn’t sabotaged it.” “Books and bric-a-brac.” “And chutney, of course. Mrs. Bradley’s best.” “The raffle.” “Church cards.” “Church cards?” David repeated in a confused tone. “What are they?” 184

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“Nick very kindly took some rather good photos of the inside of the church, which we used last year,” John explained. “We had them printed onto cards, blank for your own message inside, and they sold well.” David grinned. “It’s all so wonderfully rural, isn’t it?” “That’s because we’re in the country.” Mary looked hurt, and David was instantly the picture of contrition. “I’m sorry,” he said. “And very lovely it is, too. I was just wondering whether you wanted to repeat some of those options again for this year.” “We could do something different,” John said, “but it’s a tried and tested formula. It seems a shame to change it for no reason.” “Yes, Dad, but in Mrs. Bradley’s absence, who’s going to be in charge of it all?” “I could,” David said. He was keener than Jamie had imagined. Well, good for him. Everyone stared at him in silence. Including Robert. “Why are you all looking at me like that?” he said. “I just thought I’d offer, that’s all.” “And it’s a very kind thought,” John replied at once. “I just anticipated you’d be quite busy with your work and wouldn’t find the time.” “Have you done this sort of thing before?” This was from Mary, who was giving David a hard stare. “Do you have any experience in village fetes?” It was obvious Mary was sensing a threat to potential fete supremacy and at once Jamie’s loyalties were divided. Under her eagle eyes, David shifted in his chair. “Not in so many words, no. But I was responsible for event management in London, when I was on the social committee for a brief period.” 185

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This talk of event management experience made Jamie shuffle deeper into his seat, but no one spotted the connection. “Yes,” Robert said. “But this isn’t London; it’s a village fete in Suffolk.” “But sometimes we could do with a change, couldn’t we?” Jamie said, half-shrugging in Mary’s direction and more than willing to shine the spotlight on David. “And if someone’s capable, then it should be encouraged. What does everyone else think?” “It has potential,” Lucy replied, turning to smile at David. “Maybe if we all help out? Just while Mrs. Bradley’s not here.” “Good idea.” “I agree, too,” Nick said. Jamie’s father nodded, and John turned to Mary. “How about you, Mary? What do you think?” “I know David’s a lovely young man, but—” “Exactly,” the vicar interposed. “Just the sort of man we need to encourage to be involved in rural life, don’t you think? As Jamie so rightly says. But you’d put my mind at rest if you could see your way to working closely with him as well. On these occasions, it’s vital to have an experienced Limewater hand at the helm. After all, as Mr. Trevelyan has reminded us, village life is different.” Animal cunning must be something they taught vicars at vicar school, Jamie mused, as they all held their collective breath. And let it out again when their old friend relaxed and nodded. “Thank you,” David said, smiling at her. “I’m really grateful. So, we’ve all heard which sorts of stalls are possible. What would everyone most like to do? Mary?” “Let’s see,” she replied, looking pleased to be asked first. “Last year, I did the bric-a-brac and I’d be happy to organize that again this year. I also don’t mind taking over the running of the raffle, as 186

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Mrs. Bradley can’t do it. Though I know she’d be happy to help.” “Sounds fine to me,” David said. “I’ll make a note.” He took a pen and paper from the middle of the table and wrote down several lines with a flourish before continuing. Jamie glanced at Lucy to share the joke, but she wasn’t looking at him. “Thanks. Okay then. One down and several more to go. Lucy?” She pursed her lips and then said, “As we’re in the country, I’d better cater to masculine prejudice and go for organizing the jam and chutney stall. There’re plenty of people at the hospital I could badger into making some. Even my patients if I ask them nicely.” “Good idea,” Carina agreed. “I could give you a hand if you like. Perhaps we could do the bottle stall as well, as that’s only a question of getting people to go to the supermarket. Just as long as I don’t get it mixed up with the communion wine.” “Carina!” Her father gave her a paternal stare, only half in jest. “I would hope that you don’t.” David laughed and said, “And what about you, John? Any preferences?” “Yes. I’d like to try for the lucky dip this year. My dog-collar might just dissuade the Stanton Green boys from ruining it and, failing that, I was once on the school boxing team, so I could resurrect old skills.” “Great. So what about books and church cards?” David consulted his list. “Robert, you could do that, couldn’t you?” Robert started. He looked like his mind had been elsewhere, thinking about something far from here. “Go on, Robert. You’d be good at it. I know you would.” “Yes. Yes, of course. No problem.” “Great.” David beamed. “What about you, Nick? Any thoughts?” 187

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Although he must have known it would be his turn soon, Nick still managed to look surprised. “I could help Carina and Lucy. With the bottle stall?” It was a good try, but his great-aunt thwarted him. “Nonsense, dear,” she said. “Of course I’ll need your help with the bric-a-brac and raffle.” Right, Jamie thought, it would be them next. His father and himself. And they’d run out of ideas. There was nothing left, was there? Just as he was wondering if this year Dad and he would be relegated to the wilderness of the tea tent, his father came up trumps. “You know, I’ve got an old set of golf clubs in the loft,” he said. “Jamie could get them down and use them as a game. Just like the old days. You see, I’ve always wanted to do something like that. I’ve always felt it would be nice to—” Whatever else he might have been about to tell them was cut off as he gave a cry of pain and fell sideways onto the floor, clutching his leg. As Jamie leapt to help him, all thoughts of the village fete, local politics and golf games vanished into the night air.

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CHAPTER 16 By the time Jamie called out the doctor, dumbly nodded his thanks at the expressions of sympathy and offers of help, got his father home and safe asleep in bed, and poured himself a stiff drink, he could barely think of anything at all. During the night, his eyes felt sore and his head ached. He wondered about getting up to see if there was anything in the bathroom to help him get to sleep, but the effort didn’t seem worth it. Instead, he unfolded the prescription the doctor had written out and stared at the hieroglyphics scrawled across the paper. What did it all mean? And why did they all write like that? Was it a special doctor language only they knew? He would drive into Colchester in the morning to get it made up. But what was the point? It would be more of the same. They didn’t seem to be doing Dad any good. 189

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What he needed was a cure, a permanent one. Some kind of relief from the pain. Not this constant supply of drugs, drugs and more drugs to mask the problem. Glancing at his watch, Jamie saw it was nearly one A.M. It was no good. He wasn’t going to get to sleep. At least not for a while. He might as well get up and get some work done. At least it would make him think of something else instead of his father. Shrugging on a dressing gown, he crept out to the office, pushed the door open, switched on the light and walked in. It looked just the same as it always did, though he didn’t know why he’d expected things to be different. Nothing had changed. Then he sat down and thought for a while, trying to ignore the exhaustion he knew was lurking in the shadows to attack. What had he come here to do? To work? No, he couldn’t settle to that, could he? His heart was pounding an irregular rhythm in his chest and his skin felt hot. Too hot. He had to do something, though. Anything. Maybe living in a make-believe world was the only option. Back in the bedroom, Jamie retrieved the hit list, unfolded it and thought again. Then, half-smiling and knowing he was being utterly insane, he made some additions. Until it looked like this: JAMIE’S HIT LIST 1. My father—Smothering. Or possibly strangling 2. David—Stabbing 3. Mary Prentice (but only because if Dad disappeared, she’d want to know why)—Inhalation of noxious gases. Or electric shock 4. Michael (unless he stops spreading those nasty rumors about me)—Alcohol poisoning 5. Mark—Shooting 190

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Hey, it was amazing how much better he felt when he wrote something down. It was all so much baloney, of course, but it did release some kind of strange pressure point inside him that he didn’t know what to do with. He was particularly proud of the choice of demise for the landlord, even though he’d rarely seen Michael drink. It was funny how many of them began with an “s.” And those that didn’t still had an “s” in them somewhere. God, he must be more tired than he realized. Crazier, too. Jamie’s last thought before oblivion took him was that the list was still not complete. *

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The next morning, Robert turned up. Jamie had wakened far too early, stuffed the list into his dressing gown pocket and wandered downstairs, leaving Dad to lie in bed for a while. Both of them could do with the rest. The house was quiet, the sort of quiet you got in the country when winter moved into spring. No traffic, no people, no noise. Not even the birds were up yet. After making himself toast and coffee, he took it into the living room, turned the fire on and looked over what he’d written down again. It made him laugh, but it was a thin kind of laughter. A faint knocking made its way into his consciousness. What the hell was that? And where was it coming from? Getting up, he traced the noise to the front door and, puzzling over who it was at this time of day, opened it. “Robert?” He was standing, one hand leaning against the doorframe, hair un-brushed, and dressed in a way that looked as if he’d simply 191

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thrown on the first things he came to. Not at all like the Robert Trevelyan he knew. Not having a clue what to say or do, Jamie stared at him. “Yes,” he said. “It’s me.” Jamie blinked. No, this was real. Robert still looked the same. His voice sounded as if he’d been smoking too many cigarettes without the soothing benefits of coffee to ease the rasp, and his face looked grey. “Come in. Are you okay?” Robert stumbled past as Jamie stood aside in the hallway. In the living room, he braced himself against the window and took a deep and shuddering breath. “Rough night?” Jamie asked him, and was rewarded with the tremor of a smile. “Yes, you could say that. What time is it?” “Six-thirty.” “God, it’s early. I’m sorry, Jamie. I didn’t realize.” “Forget it. Do you want some coffee? Whisky?” He nodded. “Which?” “Coffee. Please.” “Okay. You sit down and I’ll get it.” It was only after Jamie had put the kettle on and washed out the coffee machine that the realization hit him. The list. He’d left it in there with Robert. On the table. Jamie legged it down the hallway and burst through the living room door. “Robert, I—” “What?” From one of the armchairs, he looked up with a start and 192

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almost dropped the paper he’d been reading. On the table, the hit list was lying where Jamie had left it next to his half-drunk coffee. “Nothing,” he said. “I…I was wondering if you’d like toast as well?” “No, but thank you.” “Good. Good. I’ll just tidy up while the kettle’s boiling. You look better now. That’s good.” He folded up the offending article, pleased beyond measure that Robert hadn’t seen his insanity, and picked up the mug. As Jamie turned to go, Robert said, “Sorry, I forgot to ask. Is your father all right?” “Yes, he’s fine. Well, he’s sleeping now, but he’ll be fine. I’m sure of it.” “That’s good. It’ll be a relief for everyone.” “Yes. Yes, it will. I’ll get the coffee then.” In the kitchen, Jamie closed his eyes and once more felt relief racing through his body. Robert hadn’t seen what he’d written. He couldn’t have done, otherwise he would have said something, wouldn’t he? Any normal person would have said something. On the other hand, this was Robert and he was different. Jamie could never really tell what he was thinking or what he might do. What had Robert’s expression actually meant? Should he be worrying about it? Should he… Stop it, he told himself, knowing this would get him nowhere. And anyway, what was wrong with Robert? He’d never looked as shaken as that before. Well, not for a long time anyway. Jamie should ask him what was up. Try to be a better friend to him, rather than thinking about him in all sorts of unsuitable ways as he tended to do whenever he was around Robert. But how? Still wondering what to say and how to say it, he took the 193

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coffee through to his unexpected guest. Robert drank in silence as they sat on opposite sides of the room. After a while, he said, “I suppose you want to know what I’m doing here. Dressed like this.” “Yes. I mean, no. Well, I don’t know. It’s none of my business, is it? I don’t need to know, if it’s private. Sure, if you want to tell me, but you don’t have to. I don’t want to interfere. Bloody hell.” He stopped. None of that had come out right and he didn’t know what else to say. “Okay, Jamie, okay,” Robert almost shouted. “Maybe you’re right. God, I don’t know. I don’t know bloody anything any more. If I ever did.” He got up. Jamie could see he was shaking. His skin felt prickly, like hedgehogs were crawling across his body. “I’d better go now,” Robert said. “Thanks for the coffee.” “Did you finish it?” “Yes. Why do you ask?” “I don’t know. You looked like you needed a drink, that’s all.” “Yes.” He laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “I did.” In silence and feeling as if once again and, at some level he couldn’t fathom, he’d failed, and failed deeply, Jamie followed Robert down the hall toward the front door. “Jamie?” “Yes?” “You said you didn’t need to know why I’m here now.” “Yes, I did.” “But what I’d like to find out is, do you want to know?” 194

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*

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Jamie didn’t know the answer to that, but he was still thinking about it a week or so later as he lay in Lucy’s bed. He’d told Robert it was none of his business, and that was still true now. Just as what Jamie got up to was none of Robert’s concern. But he couldn’t help wondering what the early morning visit had all been about. Was Robert sick? In trouble? About to do a runner again? God forbid. His father couldn’t face another long silence from a family friend. It would be too much for him. Maybe Jamie should have tried to be more helpful. “Jamie?” “Hmm?” he said, bringing his mind back to the present and stroking Lucy’s hair. “Are you happy with the way your father is at the moment?” He withdrew his hand. “Yes. Why? What do you mean?” She leant up on her elbow and turned to face him. “Nothing in particular. I just wondered if you’d seen any difference in him.” “No, nothing. He’s just Dad. Have you?” “Well,” she said, “speaking in my professional capacity, though, of course, I’m not a nurse, I do think he’s getting more tired out by the physio sessions these days, which hasn’t been the case in the past. And since he collapsed at the vicarage, he—” “He’s fine. I’m sure he is. He’s got more pills now, and the doctor said they’d kick in soon. That was a one-off. He’ll be fine.” He wondered if Lucy could hear the pounding of his heart. To him it seemed to be filling the whole room, but she gave no sign of noticing anything unusual. “Sure he will. But you might think of making another doctor’s appointment, say, next month?” “Okay,” he said. “Next month. I’ll think about it. Promise.” 195

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A small silence. “Thanks,” she said. “Though I’m probably being over-cautious. A curse of my profession. You know him best.” She kissed him on the cheek and moved closer. After a while, she spoke again. “It’s a shame about Robert and David, isn’t it?” “What do you mean? Them being together?” “No, you idiot. Them not being together, of course.” Jamie said nothing. His throat felt tight. Suddenly, the pieces began to move together like a jigsaw struggling to find its picture. “You did know they’d split up, didn’t you?” “No,” he said, turning to stare at the wall briefly. “No, I didn’t.” She laughed. “That’s strange. I thought Robert would’ve told you. David said he stormed off after their big row to see you.” “Me? I don’t understand why…” he started to say, and then he did. He understood all too well. The whole morning conversation with Robert fell into place, and he wondered how he could have been so blind. Lucy sat up in bed and put her head on one side. “I have it from a very good source that when Robert left David’s flat at some unearthly hour in the morning, he said he was on his way to you because, and I quote here, you’re ‘the one most likely to understand.’” “Ah.” “It happened the day after your father was ill at the vicarage. You must remember it. Honestly, you men never pick up on the signals, do you?” Jamie again said nothing. He merely grunted, but inside he was squirming. Poor Robert. A fat lot of use he’d been in his friend’s hour of need. Jamie was surprised he was still doing business with 196

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him at all. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to get up, go and find Robert and…and… What exactly? He didn’t know. Again. The whole thing was impossible. He thought Lucy might say something else then, but the moment passed, and after a while, he heard her breathing slow as she fell into her usual deep sleep. But Jamie stayed awake for a long time. Not thinking. Mainly not thinking about his father. Because the four corners of Limewater seemed to be closing in on him like a net round a fish. Jamie began to dwell more and more on that stupid but strangely enticing hit list, so much so he was beginning to feel like Hamlet without the Danish relatives. Or the real intent to kill. Still, the list was like a siren calling out to him. After a while, he was thinking about it all the time. When he got up, and when he switched on the computer. When he went out, and when he was lying next to Lucy. It stopped him puzzling over other things he couldn’t fully understand and didn’t want to, and it stopped him worrying in any long-term sense about Dad. Since his father’s partial collapse, home life and everything connected with it had become harder than Jamie could ever have imagined. It was okay during the daytime. Dad would get tired and sleep, which gave Jamie the chance to get work done, even though sometimes he could hardly focus on the computer screen. It was the nights that were the problem now. Almost every night Dad would wake up wanting attention at least once, maybe even twice, and on bad nights, three times. The moment Jamie heard him cry out, he would wake up as if someone had hit him, running down the landing to take his father his pills. He would wait for Dad to swallow the enormous things, staying with him until he fell asleep again. 197

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During those days, Jamie sometimes felt as if he were an inept tightrope walker far above the ground relying on his rapidly fading skills to keep him upright, and refusing to admit that falling might be a possibility. So it continued throughout March, and Easter would soon be upon them. And the worries about his father refused to go away. *

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“You think I’m either too tired or too sick to be seen in public now, don’t you?” “What?” Jamie put down the papers he was working on and gave his father his full attention. “It’s ‘pardon,’ not ‘what.’ And you know what I said.” “Okay, ‘pardon.’ Either way, Dad, it’s not true. I don’t think that at all.” “Isn’t it? Why is it then that since the vicarage I haven’t been out apart from church and I’ve seen hardly anyone? Tell me that if you can,” he said, stabbing one trembling finger at Jamie. “Yes, young man, you tell me that.” “But you’ve seen plenty of people. Lucy, for instance, Mary, Nick. Not to mention Robert.” “And when they come, I barely get to say hello before you take me up to bed or into another room because I’m so tired. Why am I so tired? I’ve never been so tired before. I can’t understand why, I just can’t.” “I don’t know,” he replied, feeling his jaw tense up. “You’ve not been well. Just give it time.” “That’s no answer, is it?” his father said. “Now if Mark were here, things would be different, I know it. He’d make everything as 198

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it was before.” “Oh, right,” Jamie said, knowing his face was burning. “It all comes down to Mark, the blessed Mark, doesn’t it? I’m sorry I’m not him. I’m sorry you ended up with the wrong son. But what exactly do you want me to do? What do you expect?” Then he couldn’t say any more. Jamie found to his horror that he was leaning over his father in his chair. How had that happened? And what was worse, why were his fists clenched? Dad was gazing up at him, his brow wrinkled. Jamie took a deep breath. This was ridiculous. He had to get a grip. “Never mind. You’re right. I’ll make sure you see more people.” “You’re angry,” his father said, almost in wonder, as Jamie pushed himself away from him and tried to calm down. “No, I’m not.” “Is it me?” “Just leave it, Dad. Why don’t you watch TV, and I can get on with this paperwork?” “Is it work?” Jamie couldn’t answer him. *

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“There are several things that concern me, Mr. Chadwick, at this stage in the proceedings.” “Please, name them. It’s important to get things right.” Smiling, Jamie tried to appear alert and in control, like a professional. Not like someone who, given half a chance, would lie down on the floor and fall into a long and blessed sleep. It was the first time he’d met Ms. Randall from the Institute of Commercial 199

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Accountants in person, although they’d had numerous telephone conversations since she’d hired him for the conference. A few days previously, she’d telephoned to suggest lunch in the restaurant of their chosen venue the week before Easter, and he’d jumped at the chance. It had been one of the next items to do on his agenda anyway, but now Jamie wished he’d pushed it farther down the list. Ms. Randall was the sort of woman who looked as though she did not suffer fools for long, but instead would be the first to blindfold them and stand them against a wall, while waving a rifle. Somewhere in her mid-forties, he judged, she wore her hair up, and he wondered if it was ever down. Bearing that in mind, Jamie pushed aside his cheese and biscuits and took out a notepad. The sight of it brought a partial softening at the edges of her personality, much like a lion after the kill. A mellowing not to be trusted. “First of all,” she said, “I wonder if you’ve considered the size and positioning of the stage area.” “Yes, the hotel has several alternatives. With the number of speakers there are, the most obvious solution would be to use the complete width of the room down to the first row of seats.” “No, too boring. Today’s commercial accountant is a modern beast. It’s not school, you know.” A split second went by while he readjusted the image in his head. “My thoughts precisely, Ms. Randall. Which is why I’m leaning toward the interactive option.” “The interactive option?” “Yes, the website, for instance. Somewhere people can come in from different angles and get different views of the same material. All of them equally accurate.” “Explain.” 200

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He scribbled for a few moments on the pad and then showed her the results. “There,” he said. “Your conference is focused on four main sections, each with something different to say. If we set up mini computer areas in four different parts of the hall, say two in the middle on the left and right, and two at the back, that would be appropriate for the format. It still leaves the main thrust of the day—the speakers—using the central staging and being able to gain everyone’s full attention. Not only that, but I’m very keen to have a working focus on each subject, such as books, visuals, computer programs and so on.” He was winging it and he suspected she knew it. But it wasn’t a bad concept and she knew that as well. “What about seating in those four areas?” she said at last, after studying the drawings in some detail. “Easy. Where I’ve positioned them, they won’t be intrusive. And of course, it’s important to remember one thing.” “What’s that?” “Having them available at all will encourage delegates to stay in the conference area, network more and buy the products and course material you’re going to have on sale on the day.” Jamie held his breath and watched her. She gave nothing away, and he thought he’d blown it. He’d gone too far, and she knew he was a fraud. That was it for JC Conferences. That was it for his glittering future. That was … “Yes, that seems perfectly acceptable,” she said. “Now for my next item…” By the end of the afternoon, the formidable Ms. Randall and he had been through every possible permutation of the event barring war, fire or flood. They’d seen all the rooms, quizzed all the 201

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available staff and viewed the kitchens, where the standards of hygiene impressed even her. He seemed to have escaped with something of his reputation intact as she shook his hand and gave him a faint smile when they said goodbye. Jamie hadn’t quite gained one hundred percent acceptance in the Randall mind, however. “Just one more thing, Mr. Chadwick,” she called out in the manner of Columbo as Jamie descended the steps, head throbbing, and preparing to think about the drive home. “Yes, Ms. Randall?” He turned round and managed to put on his best executive smile, which had been well used today. “Don’t forget to keep up-to-date with our online bookings. You’ve been doing fairly well so far with the twenty-four hour turnaround, but as we get nearer the day and more bookings come in, I don’t want you to lose the momentum. And I certainly don’t want you to disappoint me.” “Believe me, Ms. Randall,” he said, “you’ll be more than delighted with my firm’s standards of customer care. I can personally guarantee it.” “I hope so. I do hope so.” So did Jamie. But he wasn’t confident, which explained why Easter Sunday morning he packed his father off to church with Mary and five minutes later let Robert in for a brainstorming session in the office. “So what’s the problem?” Robert asked. Thinking how tired he looked, Jamie said, “There’s no problem. I just need your help.” “Fire ahead.” “Sure. The thing is we’re going to get a lot more enquiries on the website now the conference is getting closer. More than I can 202

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deal with.” “What about Nick?” “I’m giving him as much as I can. He’s agreed to stay on for another couple of months, but he’s not doing any more than his original three days. That’s fair enough. He has to have some time off to enjoy himself. God knows this is probably the last chance he’s going to get before real life sets in, so I can’t take that away from him.” “Is that what you think? Really?” “What?” “Is that what you think, Jamie? That once real life begins and you’re out in the working world, the time for enjoying yourself is over?” There was a silence, in which all he could hear was the background hum of the computer. Then Robert sighed. “Okay, forget I asked. Back to business. Nick can’t take up all the slack. What’s your solution then? You’ve obviously got something worked out in that devious brain of yours.” “I’ve got several options,” Jamie said, remembering to breathe again. “One being I wondered if you might be willing to help. Just for the end of the week, the days Nick can’t do. Even a couple of hours here and there would be good. I’d pay you well. Travel expenses, everything. You name it and it’s yours. If you’ve time, that is. I know you’re snowed under with your new office, and things back in Japan must be busy.” “Yes, I’d be happy to.” “What?” He hadn’t expected Robert to be quite so willing. He was a busy man, and Jamie had assumed he’d have to negotiate with everything he had and more to get his friend’s agreement to the only solution he could see. 203

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“I said yes. I’d be happy to.” “Oh. Great, thanks. Why?” He hadn’t meant to say that, but the question seemed to have come from somewhere in his mind he couldn’t control. Robert blinked and then laughed. “Why? What do you mean ‘why’?” “Why are you so keen to help me? You must be working all hours because you look tired enough. For God’s sake, don’t let my stuff stop you getting enough sleep. And I mean this is you, isn’t it? Robert Trevelyan, scourge of the business world, the tough guy of Japan, the man who makes even Sony tremble when they do business with him.” “How do you know that?” “Oh, come on, it’s all over the business papers. Not a month goes by without you being mentioned somewhere in the financial press. They can’t seem to get enough of you.” “No, Jamie,” he said after a short pause. “It’s not all over the papers, as you seem to think. In fact, some of it’s quite hard to find, even for my PR agent. But thank you for looking. I’m grateful. And in answer to your question, I’d like to work with you for several reasons. One because I think it’s a good idea. Two because I’ll enjoy it. But most of all because you’re the nearest thing I’ve got to…to…family.” “God, please don’t get sentimental on me. That’s the last thing I need. But thanks.” He smiled, and Jamie said no more. For the next hour or so, they simply worked together in silence, side by side, only commenting when one or the other of them had a business question. Until it was time for Jamie to leave. “Right,” he said, standing up and stretching until he could feel 204

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all his muscles zinging with the effort. “I’d better go and pick up Dad. John’s arranged another fete meeting at the pub, and I ought to be on time and catch up with whatever the latest is.” “I know. He asked me as well.” “Yeah, I suppose he would have done.” Jamie laughed. “I hadn’t made the connection, that’s all.” “No reason you should have. I’ll get my car and see you at the pub in a few minutes.” Robert packed up his things into his briefcase and walked toward the office door. It felt odd watching him go. As if there was something Jamie ought to do and he was running out of time. “No,” he said. Robert stopped as if Jamie had shot him, but he didn’t turn round. “No,” he said again. “That’s stupid. I’ll give you a lift. You can pick up your car afterwards. It makes more sense that way.” “Thank you,” Robert replied. “And yes, I suppose it does.” *

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They were the last to arrive. Michael had managed to push together three round tables in the corner and reserve them. As his father, Robert and Jamie entered the pub, five pairs of eyes looked up. While Robert took charge and helped his father sit down, Jamie smiled at Lucy. “Can I get anyone another drink now we’re here?” “Oh, yes, my usual Pernod and black, please,” David said. “Mary?” “A sherry would be very nice, thank you.” Jamie nodded and turned to Nick. 205

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“Half a cider, thanks.” “Okay. Carina?” “Orange juice and lemonade, please,” she replied, with a quick glance at her father. John hesitated for a moment before saying, “I think I’ll have a glass of dry white wine, thank you, Jamie.” “A top-up of the bitter shandy for me,” Lucy said and got up from her seat next to David. Robert turned and caught Jamie’s eye. “I’ll have the usual,” he said. “Thanks.” “Sure.” “Do you want some help with that?” “No, you sit down, Robert,” Lucy cut in. “You’ve only just arrived, so I’ll go. You don’t have to be old-fashioned here.” “Dad, whisky and soda okay? As it’s Easter?” His father nodded with enthusiasm, and Jamie headed off to the bar, followed by Lucy. The drinks order would certainly be a challenge. Why couldn’t they all have something simple like beer? What was Limewater becoming? The League of Nations? After Jamie had reeled off enough drinks requirements to fill the European wine lake, and Michael was busying himself with the order, Lucy leaned on the bar and said, as if to no one, “Hectic in the office then?” “As always. How can you tell?” “Easy. You came in with Robert, so I assumed you’d been doing web stuff for that conference of yours again.” “Yeah, that’s right.” “Bit of a shock for David, I think.” “Why? Oh, I see.” He stared at her. 206

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“I suppose it’s good for them to get the dreaded first meeting over with in a neutral place. It’s…” she stopped. “Honestly, Jamie, you’d forgotten, hadn’t you?” “No.” “Yes, you had. You men!” She laughed and punched him in the ribs. “You don’t see anything until it’s right in front of your face, do you?” “Hey, that’s not fair,” Jamie said and caught Michael’s eye as he was preparing the last of the drinks. The landlord grinned. “Ah, young love. It’s always good to see.” “I didn’t think you could remember that far back,” Lucy replied. “Come now. I’ll have you know that if I were twenty years younger…” “I’d be four and the fates would be against us.” “Age isn’t everything, young lady. Sometimes the old ones are the best.” “I’ll take your word for it.” She smiled at Michael, Jamie paid, and they made their way back to the party. As he sat down, Jamie noticed Robert was sitting as far away from David as possible and he could have spent several days fighting through the atmosphere lying heavy between them. “So, Jamie,” David said, taking a swig of his drink and talking louder than usual, “work okay?” “Sure. Keeping busy, you know.” “Yes, I see you’re keeping Robert busy.” He turned to his exlover. “I didn’t realize you had the time for any other commitments.” For a moment, Robert was silent. Then he put down his drink 207

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and said, “Sometimes I do. But, look, David, maybe we can do this somewhere else?” David frowned and seemed as if he were about to disagree. Thinking that Robert looked as if he needed a diversion, Jamie cut in with a question to his father. “How was church today?” he asked. “Very good, thank you,” Dad said. “Very appropriate. I do like Easter and I thought John preached an inspiring sermon.” The vicar beamed. “That’s nice to know. Always useful to get parishioner feedback when the annual pep talk with the bishop comes round.” “Scary,” Nick said. “Sounds like a job review.” “It is really,” Carina replied, though without looking at him. “But Dad always does very well, so he’s got no need to worry.” “Actually, I do like to think that God might have a hand in it somewhere, my dear, but I’m grateful for the filial loyalty.” The women laughed and the atmosphere at once felt more relaxed. “Sorry, John,” David said, “but now everyone is here and before the alcohol gets into our blood streams, I must ask how everyone is doing with their fete stalls. Mary? Nick?” God, Jamie thought, they sounded like a scene from The Archers. He’d never thought about it like that until David turned up. Well, maybe if he was feeling down, but on the whole he enjoyed that side of village life and he was cool about the strange golf game that he still hadn’t brought down from the loft. He hadn’t had time, being too wrapped up in what was happening with Dad. He frowned and drifted away for a while so he missed the next few minutes of conversation, only tuning in again when Lucy’s laughter cut through his thoughts. 208

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“Don’t worry, David,” she was saying, “Carina and I have enough jars and bottles to sink the Titanic. As requested.” “Though storing them at the vicarage is a nuisance,” Carina added. “Everything keeps getting in the way of the play groups. I’m terrified people are going to get hurt or things will get broken.” “Okay,” David said. “We’ll have to find somewhere else to store them. We’ll think it through in a minute. Who else is there? Ah, yes, Jamie, how is the golf going?” Jamie squirmed in the chair. “I’ll get round to it. There’s plenty of time.” “Not as much as you think, but okay. Let me know when you’ve sorted it out, will you? I need to keep tabs on it.” “Sure.” He shrugged, wishing he were anywhere else but here. He was the one supposed to be the keen traditionalist and everyone else had surged ahead of him. He had to get a grip. The money raised went to their village causes after all. In spite of Robert’s sympathetic smile, it was a relief when Mary turned to David and said, “And what about the publicity leaflets? You haven’t said anything about those yet.” “They’re not going badly, to be honest. I’m still working on it,” he was quick to reply, but Jamie could tell he was bluffing. “I do hope everything’s going to be on time. We need all the advertising we can get, you know.” “Yes, I know. I shall deliver the goods, don’t you worry.” “Good.” John cut in before the conversation became too heated. “It’s all under control and we’re on track for a memorable fete. Thank you, everyone. Is that all the business over with, David?” “Yep. But we still have to find extra storage space for those jars for Lucy. Any ideas, anyone?” 209

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He grinned at Lucy, who blushed and looked away. Jamie took another gulp of his drink and then his father said, “We have plenty of space in our house. What do you say, Jamie?” “Would you?” Lucy turned to him with a smile. “That would be marvelous.” Jamie shrugged. “Sure. No problem.” It didn’t bother him, of course, and if it pleased Lucy, he’d do it. “Fine. Now that’s done,” David said. “What’s everyone up to for the rest of the break?” Lucy started telling him about her cousin bringing her new baby to show off to the family on Easter Monday. This was news to Jamie. Why hadn’t she said anything about this before? Did she still feel they didn’t have that sort of relationship? But she must do by now. She must have got over that weird New Year’s conversation about being together but not being together. They’d gone beyond that, hadn’t they? Everyone in Limewater knew about them, even though they never talked about it. After all, they’d been going out—or staying in—together since January. She could tell him anything she liked. They were friends, as well as lovers, weren’t they? Jamie was so busy churning these questions over in his head that he missed her story and only came back into the present when Carina started talking about the church’s Easter week holiday club. “Honestly, it was so funny.” She giggled. “One of the little boys insisted on wearing a pair of bunny ears all week, which he’d made on the first day. He wouldn’t take them off for love nor money. I’m sure he even slept in them!” “Really?” Lucy laughed and turned to Jamie to share the joke. “I wish I’d been there. Children are great, aren’t they, Jamie?” No, he thought, they’re not. Children were aliens who spoke a 210

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language he couldn’t interpret. But he could see that saying this might get him lynched in Limewater and he kept his mouth shut. “Men always keep quiet about that sort of thing before they’re married,” Mary said. “But they feel differently when they have their own. Just like my dear husband, if he’d had the chance, that is. After a few years of marriage he was a changed man, you know, and so disappointed we could never have any children ourselves.” “I’m sorry,” David said. “I didn’t know.” “It’s a long time ago now, dear, and I’m lucky enough to have my great-nephews and nieces to fill the gap.” She smiled at Nick, who shuffled his feet. “But it’s so nice to see young women today being fond of children. So often they’re tied up with their careers, aren’t they? Which is such a shame. I think children should always come first.” “Yes, I agree,” David replied. “I’ve always thought being a parent must be marvelous. I’d love to have children.” Half of the group stared at him in silence, and Robert coughed and put down his glass. “Well, if it were possible for someone like me,” David added. “I mean—” Carina, Lucy and Robert began to talk at the same time. “I do love the church decorations.” “We’ve been very lucky with the weather this year.” “Yes, beautiful flowers.” “They’re lovely at Easter.” “Yes, Easter’s so good for flowers, isn’t it?” “And the next thing will be Christmas.” “Again.” “More drinks, anyone?” Having asked the last question, Robert bought another round, 211

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which everyone finished off quickly, as if anxious to get away. Back home, Robert strode off toward where he’d left his Mercedes. “Stay for lunch,” someone called out to his departing figure. “Won’t you?” It was Jamie who’d spoken. Funny, he would have thought it might have been his father, but it wasn’t. Though Dad approved, of course. “Yes, what a marvelous idea, Jamie. I’m sure there’ll be enough to eat, won’t there?” “Sure, there’s loads. You know that.” Robert turned around and made his way back. Suddenly, and for no reason he could see, Jamie didn’t want him to stay. Even though a second ago he had asked him. It’s okay, Jamie thought. He’s going to refuse, he’s bound to have other plans, work to do, whatever. But he was wrong. “All right,” he said. “Thank you.” Robert followed Jamie and his father into the house, down the hallway and into the living room. It felt like the angel of death was breathing down his neck. God, I have to stop over-dramatizing everything. It must be the lack of sleep. It was affecting his brain. Still, when Mark rang, it was almost a relief. “Jamie? It’s Mark here.” “Oh, hello. Happy Easter.” “Such enthusiasm. And a happy Easter to you, too.” “How’s everything? Allie okay?” “Fine, stunning as usual. And talking of women, you still got that gorgeous Lucy in tow?” “Yes. Well, no. Yes.” “God, you’re a dark horse. I never know where I am with you. 212

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Put Dad on, will you? I want to have a proper chat.” Jamie did what he asked, saw Robert was engrossed in an old Financial Times and so wandered over and stared through the French doors into the garden. But he wasn’t seeing anything. He jumped when a voice behind him whispered, “How are things going with Mark? He’s not all bad, you know.” “Neither am I, I hope. Anyway, whose side are you on?” “I didn’t think it was a question of sides. You and Mark are brothers.” “Half-brothers.” Robert laughed. “Does that matter?” “Sometimes. We’re not close, but don’t tell Dad.” He meant it as a joke, but Robert stopped laughing. Instead, he folded his arms as if to consider the problem. Silence fell, apart from his father’s telephone chuckles, then Robert said, “Life’s too short for this, Jamie.” “Maybe,” he replied, and then shot to kill. “And maybe life’s also too short to vanish for nearly six years, then come back here and expect to give personal advice. What do you think?” He flinched. “Yes, you’re right. I was out of line and I’m sorry.” Lunch passed without incident, and Jamie was beginning to relax when his father said, “I know! Before we all get too settled, why don’t you get those golf clubs out of the loft? I’d love to look at them again after all this time.” “Okay, Dad,” he said, still trying to hang on to the hope of an afternoon nap. “But I’d have to get the ladder down from the loft first. And that’s a two-man job.” “Robert is here,” Dad protested. “You’ll lend Jamie a hand, won’t you, Robert?” 213

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“Of course,” Robert said. “It’ll be my penance for not bringing a bottle of wine.” “Nonsense, Robert, you don’t have to bring anything.” “It was only a joke, Mr. Chadwick. Don’t worry. I’m happy to help.” Ten minutes later and despite Jamie’s objections, Robert and he were climbing up into the loft, leaving Jamie’s father napping downstairs. Jamie felt as if he were holding together what might rapidly, without any control, fall apart. “Be careful,” he said, as Robert’s head appeared in the opening. “I do know what to do in a loft.” Robert climbed up and came to stand next to him. Jamie moved away, and they surveyed the boxes, bags and general jumble set out before them. The whole place had that musty smell of age and neglect. When had he last been up here? “They could be anywhere,” he said. “I had no idea it was this bad.” “I’ll try the far corner. You start here.” While Robert made his way across the joists, Jamie turned and inspected the neat stacks behind him, pushing aside blankets and old sheets to see what was underneath. “Hey,” he said, “my old school reports. I had no idea Dad had kept these.” He rummaged about and flicked through the pages, forgetting what he was there for. “I’ve got the clubs,” Robert said four or five minutes later. “No thanks to you. Give me a hand, would you?” “Sure,” Jamie said and turned around. And for a moment stopped breathing. Because somewhere between the discovery of the old school reports and the discovery 214

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of the old clubs, Robert had, in the loft’s heat, undone the first few buttons of his shirt. Jamie could see a hint of smooth tanned skin and the line of his throat. He looked so good. Still. Then he ceased to think at all. It took him four steps to reach Robert. He didn’t pay any attention to the clubs. He put his hand on the back of Robert’s head and brought his lips down to his. The next moment Robert’s tongue was filling his mouth, and Jamie clung on, knowing to his shame that he’d closed his eyes and was moaning, as the six years since they’d last done this simply melted away.

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CHAPTER 17 Oh, God. Jamie sat upright in the unfamiliar bed, his heart beating as if trying to spring out of his chest, and the vestiges of the sort of dream he shouldn’t want to remember clinging like a sick cat to his consciousness. “What? What the hell?” He put his hands over his face, wondering where he was. His companion laughed. Lucy. Thank God. Looking around, he could see at once where he was. Of course he could. The early May sunshine streaming through the window of her bedroom must have just wakened him. “How long have I been asleep?” he asked her. She stopped brushing her hair. 216

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“I don’t know, not long. Ten minutes? Sorry, I wasn’t counting. You okay?” “Sure, thanks. Why shouldn’t I be?” Getting up, he started searching for his clothes and putting them on. “You must’ve been tired, though,” she said. “You were out like a light afterwards. Work okay? Have you seen Robert’s offices yet?” Shaken at the mention of Robert in this context, though it was a damn sight less unsettling than the context he’d been in not long ago, Jamie let a few seconds go by before answering. “Empty,” he said at last. “They’re empty. He needs to get the furniture sorted. It’s taking longer than he thought, but they’re good buildings. He’s done well, as ever.” Lucy shrugged, and Jamie thought back to the events of this morning, when he’d seen Robert. He’d spent the weeks since Easter remembering that kiss and avoiding Robert. He couldn’t handle this. Not after what had happened six years before. Which he was determined not to think about. They’d spent far too long in the attic kissing and touching each other wherever they could reach. Without taking any clothes off, though one or two more buttons had been undone. Robert had offered more, but Jamie couldn’t handle that either, knowing if the other man took things to a more intimate level he’d never be able to keep silent. In fact, there were so many things he wanted to say to Robert, hundreds of stupid, pointless things, and he couldn’t find the words for any of them. So they’d carried on kissing and stroking until the quavering sound of his father’s voice had forced Jamie to let go and pulled him back down into the house again. Gasping and shaking. With those damn golf clubs. 217

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He had no idea how his father hadn’t noticed anything strange. Jamie was sure his face had been glowing, and his lips felt bruised and full as if they’d never be their normal shape again. Neither could he stop staring at Robert, and it had been a relief when shortly after the other man had made his excuses and left. Since then, Jamie had avoided both Robert and Robert’s invitation to look at his new offices. In the end, even his father had started to wonder aloud why he’d not gone, and so this morning Jamie had run out of excuses. He’d tried to make his visit as brief as possible, but Robert still managed to fit in the guided tour around his plans for the suite of five rooms, for which he’d just signed the contract. This time they hadn’t touched at all. Jamie didn’t know what he thought about that. He’d hoped Robert would say or do something, but he didn’t, and the overwhelming boldness that had swept over Jamie in the attic in his own home didn’t make a return visit. He’d simply nodded and agreed his way through it all. As soon as he could, he’d made his escape. Back to Lucy. I’ll be fine, Jamie thought to himself as here and now he gave Lucy an absent-minded goodbye peck on the cheek. He’d have to be. It was obvious Robert saw what had happened as a temporary madness and nothing more than a blip in Jamie’s otherwise straight existence. He was probably avoiding the subject, too, in order to be polite. Just as Jamie was avoiding it, though for other reasons. Ones he couldn’t fully explain. Plus his workload, not to mention the worries about his father, was getting to him. He just had to hang on until the summer, at which point everything would get back to how it should be. The conference would be over, and Robert would leave. Until that took place, Jamie had to make sure that he kept everyone, especially the 218

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cause of his out-of-character longings, in the dark. An easy thing to decide on, but not so easy to do. Particularly as his father was making none of his usual health improvements with the warmer weather. Night times continued to be the worst. There’d been no let-up there. Right now, having risen like one of Pavlov’s dogs at the sound of his father’s cry, and stumbling half-asleep across the hall, cursing all diseases, Jamie barged his way into the bedroom. “Jamie! Don’t scratch the wallpaper.” “What?” “The wallpaper, don’t scratch it. We’ll never get that pattern again. And I…” “Oh. Right. Sorry. Are you in pain?” Jamie switched on the light and fumbled with the pills, hands shaking with a mixture of exhaustion and confusion. What did the décor have to do with anything anyway? Right now, his father wouldn’t be able see it without his glasses. “Yes, I am. Of course I am.” “Okay, let’s take these.” As gently as possible, Jamie levered his father up on the pillows so he could swallow the pills. He took one, two. And reached for another, but Jamie’s hand was empty. He wasn’t supposed to take more than two at any one time. “I bet you wish I was dead.” “Wh…What?” Jamie stammered, wondering where the hell that had come from. “What do you mean?” “I’d be better off dead,” his father said. “We both would. Think of all those things you could do when I’m gone.” What? Jamie swallowed. “Don’t be silly, Dad. What would I do without you?” 219

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“But you shouldn’t have to look after me like this. You’re young and you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. I’m only holding you back. You should get away from me, find some young woman, settle down.” Thinking of the scenes that had been haunting his dreams lately, mainly involving Robert and himself in all kinds of compromising situations with the occasional and utterly bizarre appearance of Lucy, Jamie almost smiled, but really didn’t have the heart for it. “I mean you should keep hold of Lucy, you know. She’s a lovely young woman. Just the sort of woman you can settle down with.” Yes, perhaps that was it, Jamie thought. Perhaps that was what he needed to do to get himself sorted out. He wasn’t sure though what Lucy would say to the plan. His father groaned, and Jamie waited as his dad found a more comfortable position in the bed. He thought the subject of his love life might be finished, but it wasn’t over yet. “You see, Jamie,” he said, “when you find the right one, and believe me you know when you do, you shouldn’t waste time wondering about it. You should just get on with it, really you should. Timing or age doesn’t matter. Your mother taught me that. Just think about it, will you?” And maybe, just maybe, his father was right. *

*

*

“Lucy?” “Uh-huh?” she said, as Jamie handed her jacket to her and smiled until it felt as if his face was splitting apart. 220

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It was Friday. His father was recovering from physio in the living room, and Robert was in the office putting in a couple of hours of hard work on the conference project. There’d been no repeat of the kissing incident, but his presence here still added extra urgency to what Jamie wanted to ask. “I was wondering…” “What? What were you wondering?” she asked, hugging him quickly. “Because I really have to get to my next patient. I’m late enough as it is.” Now or never then. He took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you might like me to have the key to your flat, to make things easier?” Lucy’s eyes flickered and she said nothing for a moment, but smoothed down her jacket as they stood in the hallway. “You see,” Jamie said, feeling something else was needed at this point. “I like you a lot, Lucy. I know you said—and I agreed— at the beginning that we’d just be casual, but I was thinking whether we might have been wrong. We get on, we like each other, or at least that’s the way it seems, so why don’t we do it? Admit we have a relationship and carry on from there, I mean. And there’s another thing I want to say, too.” She remained silent, staring at a point halfway between his waist and his chest, so Jamie reached into his pocket and took out the object he’d been saving for her. “Really, I should’ve given you this first, if you want to take it. It’s up to you. It’s a spare key for our front door. Look, I’m not great at the emotional stuff, but it’s yours if you want it, Lucy.” She was so beautiful. As beautiful as the day he’d first met her. But then again why on earth wouldn’t she be? She was someone Jamie could so easily be with. If only he could stop thinking about 221

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Robert. After all, what more could there be in life? Unfortunately, when she looked at him, there were tears in her eyes, and his stomach twisted. “That’s lovely; thank you so much.” She took his outstretched palm with its shiny new key and folded his fingers over it. “Thank you, but I’m sorry. Maybe it’s too soon, but right now, it just doesn’t feel right. Too serious or something…I don’t know. Can’t we go on as we have been?” Jamie could barely speak. His face felt hot and he was unable to look at her. He must have never seemed less like a cool bloke in charge of his life, and right then he wasn’t. No way, no how. “Jamie? Have you got a minute?” He jumped and looked up as a strong male voice came floating down the stairs into his ears as if from another planet or time. Robert was poised on the landing, several sheets of fax paper in his hands. “Sorry, Lucy,” he said. “Didn’t realize you were still here. Not interrupting anything, am I?” “No, it’s fine,” Jamie said, trying to recover. “I’ll be right up.” Robert disappeared, and Jamie turned back to the woman in front of him, the woman who’d just taken the branch he’d been desperately sidling along and chopped it off. Again. “Forget I said it then,” he mumbled. “You’re right. It’s not the right time. I didn’t mean to sound so heavy anyway.” “But, Jamie, I—” “Please, let’s forget it,” he repeated, clenching his fists behind him, out of sight, and determined to save face. “As you say, we’re fine as we are. Let’s just enjoy what we have.” “But don’t you want to talk it through?” “No. Please. Not now. Right now, you need to get to your next 222

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client. And I need to see what Robert wants.” “Okay,” she said, frowning. “Perhaps we can talk later? I don’t want to leave things like this.” “Things are fine,” he lied, smiling almost as widely as he had at the beginning of the conversation, but for very different reasons. “I understand. I’ll see you later. You deal with your client, and I’ll deal with conference stuff.” She sighed and, giving him a worried look, hurried out to her Fiesta. That had not gone well. And, right now, nowhere felt like home. *

*

*

Strangely, the person Jamie was beginning to feel most at home with was turning out to be his father. At least he wasn’t in the process of rejecting Jamie or messing with his mind. No more than usual. At this rate, his father might even end up getting off that hit list. Or he would be if it weren’t for the occasional run of morning questions. These days, mornings weren’t Jamie’s best time. “You’re looking a bit peaky today. Did you sleep all right?” Jamie stared at him across the breakfast table, his eyes feeling like small, rather feverish puffballs. How could his father look so normal when he’d wakened Jamie three times last night? He looked as if he’d slept straight through for twelve hours, and Jamie envied him. It must be true what they said about old people needing less rest. “Jamie?” “What? Yes. I mean no, I didn’t sleep that well. Not really, but it doesn’t matter.” 223

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“It was because of me, wasn’t it?” he said. Jamie shook his head, but his father carried on, looking more and more like an After advert for Sanatogen for the Over Sixties. “It’s the pain, you see. Do you know, when you were young, your mother and I were up all the time? You weren’t an easy child. Not like Mark. The trouble with you young men nowadays is that…” As his father talked, Jamie toyed with his cereal, and wondered how he might best get through the day, without falling asleep in the middle of something important. “So why don’t you do that?” “What?” he said, with a mouthful of Cornflakes. “Where are your manners? I was just saying how tired you look. Perhaps you could take a nap later on. You don’t go out to an office job, after all. You don’t work for anyone else.” He groaned. “I wish, but I can’t. I’m too busy.” His father tutted. “With all this extra staff you’re taking on? I really don’t understand it. Now if Mark were here, he’d soon fix you up with a…a…” “Acuity? Aplomb? Another mad-cap idea?” “A time management course.” His father finished his sentence with a satisfied wave of his hand and smiled at Jamie. “That would soon sort you out.” He looked surprised he’d remembered the phrase at all. In all honesty, so was Jamie. “Come on, Dad. There’s nothing wrong with my time management skills. But talking of sorting things out, if you feel up to it, shouldn’t you spend some time on your exercises before Lucy gets here?” *

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His father wasn’t the only one who should have been paying attention to what was happening with Lucy. Jamie wasn’t doing very well with that side of life himself. He still felt sore after she’d turned down his offer of exchanging keys, and they hadn’t spent much time with each other since then. He didn’t know whether he should be talking about it as she’d suggested or just letting the whole problem drift while time fulfilled the healing function everyone said it was supposed to have. Maybe he should have kept his big mouth shut, but he wanted them to be more serious. Hell, he needed them to be. Robert was a phase was all. And he liked her, didn’t he? More than she liked him, by the looks of it. In the space of a few days, they’d gone from casual with potential to almost nothing with the hint of doom about it, and now they weren’t sleeping together. Jamie didn’t know whose fault that was, and he couldn’t bring himself to do anything definite to alter it. For the time being, he was floating in a vacuum, and it wasn’t comfortable. Sitting in front of the laptop that Tuesday morning, with Nick working quietly in the corner, the confusion of it all rankled and the papers in front of him continued to make no sense. Lucy and Dad must have almost finished their physiotherapy session when the doorbell rang. For the first time he could remember, it was a relief to put down his work and get up. “Shall I go?” Nick asked. “No sweat. I need to stretch my legs.” The doorbell rang again. “Hang on,” he muttered. “I’m coming.” It was David, clutching a huge box of books and toys to his chest. Somehow, he seemed different, almost suspicious looking, as if he’d been caught stealing and was giving Jamie his ill-gotten 225

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gains. That was obviously madness. Jamie decided he was suffering from too many broken nights to think anything sensible. “Jamie, hi. Where shall I put these?” “What are they?” he said, his mind not making the connection. “What do you think? They’re for the fete, you idiot.” Of course. He’d forgotten the fete storage problem. It wasn’t the first thing on his mind. Jamie waved him through. “Sure. Come in.” “Yeah, thanks. I need to…” At that point, there was a flurry of noise and movement as Dad and Lucy came out of the living room. “David!” Dad said. “What a pleasant surprise. I thought I heard the doorbell.” “Yes, Mr. Chadwick. I was just passing through and thought I’d drop off some of the fete stuff.” “Why don’t you stay? Have something to eat. You must be hungry, and we don’t seem to have seen you for such a long time.” “Well, I…” “Do stay. And you, too, Lucy,” Dad cut in again. “It’ll be nice, just the four of us. And Nick, of course.” “I’ll call him,” Jamie said, thinking Lucy must have gone easy on the exercising today if he was this chatty. Nick, however, was in the middle of a complex piece of accounts programming, which he was reluctant to leave. He said he might show his face later, so Jamie ran downstairs again and rejoined the crowd. “How are the fete plans going?” Dad asked, as Jamie placed some toast under the grill. “Not bad,” David replied. “I think everything’s coming together at last.” 226

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“And those leaflets Mary was worrying about?” He smiled. “Even those, though she’s still very skeptical.” “You’ve a new way of doing things here, David. You have to give us time to get used to the idea.” Jamie didn’t think his father had ever spoken a deeper truth, if only he’d known it. But David today was somehow different. What was it about him? In the meantime, David seemed to shake himself out of his mood. “Yes, you’re right, of course, Mr. Chadwick. I mean, what can go wrong really? But talking of the fete, what do you think about Nick and Carina?” Jamie almost choked. “Nick? Carina? What about them?” David grinned at him, and Jamie glimpsed a flash of the David he thought he knew. “Honestly, and he works for you as well. Don’t you ask him anything?” “It’s not very blokey,” he said and then blushed. God, what a stupid thing to say, but David didn’t seem to take offence. “Of course, Jamie’s got far more important things to think of. Like work, and making sure Robert’s keeping things going,” Lucy said. Something in her voice made Jamie glance at her, but she didn’t meet his eyes. When he turned back to David, he looked away. “Nick?” Dad muttered. “Nick and Carina? How very nice for them.” “Yes,” David went on, “he’s helping Carina and Lucy out on their stall now. As he originally wanted to before Mary played the family card.” “What? Is he making jam?” his father asked, wide-eyed. And Jamie couldn’t blame him. Nick didn’t seem to be the jam-making type. 227

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“No! I don’t think he’ll go that far. But, having escaped the bric-a-brac stall and raffle by responding to the call of love, he’s now washing pots and sterilizing everything in sight.” “Well, well,” Dad said. “Did Nick tell you all this? He’s always so quiet.” “Nick? No! I happened to bump into Carina, that’s all.” David trailed to a halt and there was a silence. Lucy sprang to her feet. “I’m sorry to break things up, but I really ought to go.” “So soon?” Jamie asked, failing to find any clues in her face as to their status. “What about some food?” “Sorry. I’ve got a lot to do today.” She said goodbye to his father and, with the briefest of nods at David, who gave another curt nod back, she gathered her things and left. When Jamie returned to the kitchen, David was dishing out toast, but putting none on his own plate. His father was saying, “Is Lucy cross with you, David? She left quickly today.” “Did she?” David replied. “I hadn’t noticed. Anyway, I’d better go, too. Don’t think I’ve got time to eat either. I’ll see you at the fete.” Whatever they’d done, it had cleared the house. Jamie wolfed down his snack and was about to go back to work when his dad said, “Did you notice something different about David?” “A bit on edge, maybe. I don’t know.” “No, no. There was something else, too. It’ll come to me, I know it will.” “Hmm?” “I’m not sure.” He thought for a minute. “No, I’ve got it. He wasn’t as colorful as he usually is. None of those bright orange 228

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socks and ties today.” “Well, thank God for that, though I can’t say I noticed what he was wearing.” “You ought to be more observant. I really don’t know why you can’t see what’s in front of you. No, he looked very dapper, quite the young man about town.” *

*

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But David was the last person on Jamie’s mind. Because the most important thing was to sort out the Lucy crisis. Did she want to give him the push? Get someone else? He’d rather know one way or the other. So, the following Friday, with Robert tied up with the office in Colchester, Jamie waylaid her after she’d finished with his father. Just before she made her escape. Was she that keen to get away from him? “Hi,” he said, grabbing her jacket as if helping her put it on, although in fact he was trying to stop her leaving. There was a slight tussle before she said, “Hi. How are you?” “Great. And you?” “Fine.” She gave her jacket an experimental tug. In vain. “Jamie, I know we need to talk, but please not now.” “Why not now? I can’t get to see you any other way.” And he so desperately wanted to see her. Being with her would make everything right again. Wouldn’t it? “But, Jamie—” “Look,” he said. “Maybe we can get together next week or something. Shall I give you a call?” She sighed. “If you like. And then maybe you can tell me all 229

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about this weird stuff you have going with Robert. Because one thing’s for sure. I really do need to know about that if we’ve got any chance at any kind of a future together.” The world seemed to stop and, for a moment, Jamie felt sick. It was as if someone had pushed him into the path of an oncoming lorry, and he put out his hand to touch the wall to see if he was still standing. Then he blinked. “What?” He must have gone pale because she frowned and touched his arm. “You heard me. But don’t worry, we can talk later.” “But I want to know what you mean now. I don’t understand. Tell me.” “Here?” “Yes, here. You can’t say things like that and then just vanish.” She closed her eyes. “Honestly, I wish I’d never said anything. I knew I shouldn’t. I’m sorry. But let’s go somewhere that isn’t the hallway, shall we?” In the dining room, Jamie repeated his statement. “Tell me.” “Look, Jamie, I…” “Tell me. Now. Please.” “Okay. Well, I’m told you and Robert have some kind of history. God knows what. Now I’m not prejudiced, and I’m not judging you, whatever it was. These things happen. Though why you didn’t just tell me, I have no idea. But you’re always doing stuff with him now, and I think…” Jamie wasn’t listening to her any more. His skin was tingling and he was having trouble catching his breath. “Who the fuck told you that?” She took a step back. He never swore. Not like that. She must have been surprised, but her reaction was anger, not fear. And 230

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something else he couldn’t name. “I don’t have to tell you. Anyway, I can’t remember; it’s only what I’ve heard.” “That’s a lie. The whole thing’s a lie. But who told you?” “For heaven’s sake, it doesn’t matter,” she said. “And stop shouting.” “You can’t accuse me like this and not tell me who told you. Was it Robert? Was it?” Something flickered in her eyes. By some miracle, Jamie held onto his temper and waited. It might have been the longest few seconds he’d ever experienced. “I don’t know,” she said at last, not looking at him. “It might have been David, but I’m not sure.” David? God, yes, he supposed that made some sort of sense. Robert must have told him everything when they were having their affair in the New Year. Bastard. Jamie couldn’t think properly. But why the hell had David told Lucy? Unless… “You and David are very pally these days, aren’t you?” He folded his arms so he wouldn’t grab her. “I like him. It’s not a crime.” “Makes you feel better, does it? Being with a bloke who doesn’t want to make love to you? Really, I didn’t have you down as a fag hag.” “Leave it, Jamie. Just leave it.” He couldn’t. “I’m surprised David hasn’t spread the whole thing round Limewater by now. I suppose I should be grateful. Unless you’ve been telling your patients about it as well?” “Don’t be ridiculous. What do you think?” She paused. “So it’s true then, is it?” Jamie took a step back and felt his face grow hot. “No, it isn’t. 231

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And make sure David knows it, will you?” She stood her ground and laughed, a hollow sound. “Well, maybe you ought to deal with the problem, as you see it, at source and talk to Robert about it. As you’re so pally with him now, it should be easy for you.” “Shut up.” “With pleasure, Jamie.” With that she sidestepped round him, tugged open the dining room door and walked out of the house without a backward glance. He tried to unclench his fists, but couldn’t. What the hell had Robert been thinking? Jamie needed to sort this out and he needed to do it now. His father was in the living room, staring at the television as if nothing else important was happening. Jamie wished it weren’t. He told him he had business to attend to and would be back early afternoon. His dad simply nodded. He didn’t even look up. Jamie was in the car and heading toward Colchester within five minutes. His skin was still burning when he slammed to a halt in the communal car park and then leant on the connecting buzzer. “Hello, this is Robert Trevelyan.” His disembodied voice floated out of the speaker. “It’s me. Let me in.” He said nothing in reply, but the door clicked open, and Jamie ran up the stairs. Robert was standing framed in the office doorway. Behind him, Jamie could see the polished wooden floors stretching out and the new furniture in the corner waiting to be set up. “What the hell did you tell David about me, you bastard?” Robert’s cautious smile disappeared. “You’d better come in and we can discuss this in a calm fashion. There are other people 232

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working in the offices here.” Jamie strode past him, and Robert closed the door behind him. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you a seat, but as you can see, there’s—” “I don’t care about your bloody furniture and I wouldn’t sit down with you if you paid me to.” “Why not?” “Never mind.” The memory of their recent kiss filled his head, but Jamie paced away and turned on his heel to point an accusing finger at him. “Why the hell did you tell David about what happened between…” But it was up to Robert to say the words. “Between you and me? At Christmas? Six years ago?” He finished Jamie’s sentence and sighed. “I see. You haven’t erased it entirely from your memory, so that’s nice. But how do you know I told him?” “Because David told Lucy, and Lucy told me.” He raised one eyebrow. “Really? Interesting sequence of events, don’t you think?” “Don’t bullshit me. Why the hell did you have to tell him?” “I shouldn’t have said anything, I know. I’m sorry. It was just one of those post-coital moments when—” “Shut up! I don’t want to know what you and David got up to. It’s disgusting.” “Is it?” His gaze held Jamie’s for a moment before he went on. “You asked me how I came to tell him, and I’m trying to answer you.” Jamie said nothing, but he realized he was breathing heavily. “So, what happened was that afterward, we had a few drinks, shared a joint together and were busy getting stoned when the inevitable question came up about people we knew and previous 233

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relationships.” “That’s a lie because we never had a relationship. Not really.” “So you say. But I was too far gone to be discreet about anything. I’m very sorry. I’m sorry I told him and I’m sorry he’s told someone else, though if it’s any consolation I don’t think Lucy’s the type to spread gossip. Most of all, I’m sorry it hurt you.” When Jamie looked up at him, he realized with a start that Robert was now only a couple of feet away. All the while he’d been speaking, he must have been moving nearer. “Don’t be stupid. I’m not hurt.” He took several backward steps toward the far wall. “There’s nothing going on to be hurt about.” “So why not just laugh off the whole thing? Jesus, Jamie, apart from our Easter kiss—and God alone knows what you thought that was really about—what went on happened six years ago now. Ancient history. Why come rushing down here breathing fire and brimstone like a jealous lover all of a sudden?” “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Don’t I?” Robert kept moving toward him, and Jamie kept moving away until he could feel the solid wall against his back. He wished he’d never come. At the same time, it felt like there was no way he could leave. “It strikes me this whole conversation is way off beam,” Robert continued. “Why are you here? To shout at me for telling an exlover something I shouldn’t have? Or to shout at me for being intimate with someone who isn’t you?” “You’re crazy,” Jamie snapped at him and tried to swerve away, but Robert reached out and grabbed him by the arm. “Let me go.” 234

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“No, I won’t,” Robert said. “Not this time. This time, maybe I won’t be as patient with you as I was before. It strikes me there’s something going on here and it’s about time we had a good look at it. Isn’t that true, Jamie? Isn’t it?” He struggled to break free, but Robert was stronger. And Jamie’s efforts only brought the other man closer to himself. Jesus, what was Robert going to do to him? “For instance,” he whispered, his face almost touching Jamie’s, “why don’t we take a good look at why you’re so turned on at the moment?” “I’m not.” But it was a lie, and they both knew it. “Don’t be silly. I can see how excited you are right now, you idiot. Tell me, is it just the time of the day for you? Or is it anger? Or maybe, just maybe, lust? Not enough of Lucy? Or not enough of…me?” With that, he pushed Jamie’s body hard into the wall. “Get off me, you bastard, or I’ll…” “What? Punch me like you did Mark? Kiss me again? You don’t know which just now, do you? Perhaps it’s time to see what the hell is going on. Perhaps it’s time I finished the job I started six years ago. Tell you what, I’ll even do you a deal, and it’s not often I promise that to anyone I come across on a business footing, so count yourself lucky. If, in the next few minutes, you don’t want me to do what I hope you’ll let me do, then all you have to say is the word, ‘no.’ Just ‘no’ and I’ll leave you alone. Understand?” As he was speaking, Robert was snatching at Jamie’s belt and pulling at his zipper. “Get away from me, you bastard. Let me go.” “I don’t hear a ‘no’ anywhere in there.” Using his body as a barrier against escape, Robert pushed Jamie’s trousers and briefs down as Jamie tore at Robert’s shirt, his 235

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hair, his shoulders. He no longer had any idea if he was fighting Robert off or keeping him close. Before he could say or think anything else, Robert had taken firm hold of his cock and was rubbing him with quick, expert strokes, up and down, up and down. A mere two seconds later, to Jamie’s overwhelming humiliation and with a sound halfway between a sob and a groan, he came. All over Robert’s hand. God. God help him. All over his bloody hand. At once Robert stopped. They were both shaking. He removed his fingers, and, for a moment suspended outside time, Jamie’s head rested on Robert’s shoulder and Robert’s arms went round him. “God,” Robert said, “it’s so long since you’ve let me do that. But, hell, it was quick. I’d only just got into my stride.” “Shut up.” Jamie pushed him away. “And whose bloody fault is it that it’s been so long anyway? But shut up. Shut up and get off me.” “Yes, of course.” Robert shook his head and seemed to come to his senses a little more. “Here, let me get you a handkerchief or something.” He reached into his pocket. Seeing his chance, Jamie punched him in the stomach. He hadn’t known he was going to do that, but it felt good. Winded, Robert doubled up, and Jamie pushed him down. That didn’t feel quite so good. “Don’t…ever…do that…to me…again,” he said, leaving pauses between words, partly for emphasis and partly to catch his breath. “Bastard.” Stepping over him, forcing himself not to look back, though he desperately wanted to, Jamie walked out of Robert’s office, still tucking in his shirt and trying to stop his legs from giving way. 236

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In the car, he wondered how he could ever explain just what the hell had happened. And why he’d enjoyed it so very much.

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CHAPTER 18 Jamie didn’t want to think about it, but he had no choice. In the midst of all that was happening with his father, he couldn’t stop the memories of what had taken place with Robert. Not now, but before. The past was suddenly more real than the present and replayed itself over and over in his head like a faulty CD. He must have been mad. But he’d been barely nineteen and people did mad things when they were nineteen, didn’t they? He’d been home from university for Christmas, hacked off and confused because making friends was more difficult than he’d thought it would be. Then there was Robert, over here for the holidays from Japan, ten years older, ten years wiser, and not at his best as he’d just broken up with his partner of three years. One evening Jamie had had a row with his father over how 238

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much he’d been drinking and had stormed out in one of those lateteenage furies everyone must surely remember. He’d ended up at Robert’s, as it felt like he had no place else to go. He’d spent a good half-hour pacing up and down in his front room, complaining about the state of the world, the university and in particular his own life. Through all this childish ranting, Robert had simply listened. When he’d finished, Robert waved at the seat opposite. “Sit down,” he’d said. “It might make you feel better. I know it will me.” Jamie remembered looking at him, drawn by the gentleness in his voice. He was sure his father rarely used that tone of voice with him these days, only with Mark. Maybe that was why, instead of taking the chair Robert had indicated, Jamie sat down next to him on the sofa. He couldn’t think of any other reason, not even six years on. Now he squirmed just thinking about it. Robert hadn’t questioned his choice. For a while, they’d been silent. Not uncomfortably silent. Easy silent. It was okay. Then Jamie had said, “Thanks.” “For what?” “For listening.” A few seconds had ticked by, after which Jamie twisted his body to face Robert, leant forward and kissed him. On the cheek. Jesus, he remembered thinking very clearly that this was it. He was making a pass at Robert. He must have been drunker than he’d imagined. But he wasn’t. The cold night air had sobered him up on the fifteen-minute walk between his house and Robert’s and right then it was as if he hadn’t touched a drop for days. He’d better go. He didn’t get the chance. As Jamie had tried to move away, 239

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Robert put his hand on the back of his neck, turned to look him straight in the eyes and the next thing Jamie knew they were kissing. Full on. Mouth to mouth. With tongues. And God, it was good. Like a girl, but not like a girl. Like the best things he’d ever experienced in his life up to that point all rolled together. Better than that even. Robert had tasted of wine, and Jamie hadn’t wanted it to stop. Robert was stroking Jamie’s head with one hand, fingers buried in his hair, and his other hand was undoing shirt buttons, touching Jamie’s stomach and then running his fingers slowly up the length of his spine. Robert’s coolness on his warm skin had made Jamie shiver. He recalled how much he’d wanted to touch Robert back, but he didn’t know how. Jamie had moaned, even as they were still kissing. Jesus, he wasn’t gay. Was he? He’d sprung up from the sofa and out of Robert’s embrace as if the older man were his worst enemy, knocking the remains of his glass onto the carpet as he did so. “God,” Jamie had managed to say. “God, s-sorry. About the wine.” Robert was trying to smile, but his voice was shaking. “I’m sorry, too, Jamie. Just forget it.” He couldn’t understand why Robert was apologizing when it wasn’t his fault. Crouching down, Jamie had tried to wipe away the mess the wine had made with his handkerchief. “Leave it, for goodness sake. I’ll clear it up later. Are you all right?” He’d shrugged an answer. Jamie had no idea if he was all right 240

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or not. How was he to know? Anyway, back then he hadn’t wanted to discuss it. He’d simply wanted to get away. Go home. Think. But at the same time he’d so much wanted to stay. “I’d better go,” he’d said, not daring to look at Robert. “Dad will be wondering where I’ve got to. He’ll be furious if I’m out late.” “Fine. Good idea. I think it would be best if you did leave right now, yes.” It had been like being kicked in the teeth. Without a word, he’d grabbed his jacket and opened the door, just as Robert had said, “Jamie?” “What?” he’d heard himself whisper. “I think you’d better button up your shirt first.” “Yes,” he’d managed to say, refusing to let Robert see him upset. “Yes, I will. Outside.” During the rest of the Christmas holidays, this had happened several times. It was like living in a fantasy world that would vanish the moment Jamie left for college. They’d spent as much time together as they could, made out, seriously, on the sofa one fantastic afternoon when Mark and Allie had gone out for a walk and his father was having a nap upstairs. They’d never had actual sex, though they’d done almost everything but. Jamie had been too frightened of it. What it might mean. They’d come pretty close once, though, and Jamie had been down to his briefs when Mrs. Bradley had called ’round with the paper bill and he’d had to get dressed in a frenzy while Robert had sat back and laughed at him. No, with him. Bad timing in one way. But it had jolted Jamie off the path they’d been travelling and they hadn’t come that close again. He didn’t think anyone knew what was going on. No, scrub 241

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that. He’d hoped to God no one knew. When he’d returned to Durham, Jamie had pushed the whole strange, out-of-this-world couple of weeks to the deepest and darkest recesses of his mind. Within a few days of being back at university, he’d found a girlfriend and had marked Christmas down as a blip on his noquestions-asked straight landscape. But Robert wouldn’t let go. He’d tried to ring Jamie and had sent letters, which he hadn’t been able to open. Unable or unwilling to cope, he’d left Robert hanging on. And at Easter, everything had come to a head. He’d only been home for one day when Robert knocked at the door, looking as if he’d been up all night. Perhaps he had. His father was out, and Jamie had let him in. Robert wandered round the living room, staring at the books, picking a few up here and there, and putting them back on the shelves. His shirt wasn’t tucked in properly and he didn’t look clean. Not like Robert. Not like him at all. Jamie had had no idea what to say and certainly no idea about what he felt. “Well?” Robert had said. “Well what?” “Well, how was university? Courses all right?” “Yeah, fine thanks.” “Good.” He’d stopped pacing, put his hands in his pockets and turned to face Jamie. “Why didn’t you answer my letters? Talk to me on the phone?” “I’m sorry,” Jamie had said, staring at him. “I couldn’t.” He’d grown paler than he already was. “Why not?” Out of nowhere Jamie had been angry and more scared than he’d ever been. “Why the hell should I? It was just one of those things, wasn’t it?” 242

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“I don’t know,” Robert had replied, answering the first question and not the second. “Politeness? Friendship? Simple decency?” “I don’t know,” Jamie had echoed, feeling his skin grow hot. “Ah, I see,” he’d said, smiling in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. “I gather from the fact you look as if you’d rather be anywhere than here with me that there isn’t going to be a repeat of what happened at Christmas?” “Nothing happened. I…” “Nothing?” Robert had given a short laugh. “So making a pass at someone in his own home and thoroughly enjoying the results counts as nothing?” “Shut up.” “Stuff like kissing, touching and undressing each other counts as nothing?” “I said shut up.” “And not quite getting round to actual penetrative sex—more your choice than mine—to you young people these days counts as nothing?” “Shut the fuck up, won’t you?” “Am I getting too close?” Robert had spat the words out and his eyes were wide. Jamie hadn’t recognized him. “Would you have liked me to fuck you, Jamie? The thought of it turns you on, doesn’t it? Well, don’t worry. You’re here now. We can do it as often as you like. At least until you head north again. No strings attached. Because, to be honest, I’d really love to do that with you. Amongst other things. Which I can list, if you like. For a start, there’s—” “I don’t want to know, you bastard.” 243

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He’d shut up. “You’re disgusting,” Jamie had said, watching as Robert stepped away from him. “You make me sick. I never want to hear you mention Christmas again. The thought of doing anything with you makes me want to throw up. And it wasn’t as much fun as you seem to think it was, you know. Not at all. There’s nothing wrong with me. I’ve got a girlfriend now. So why don’t you just piss off and leave me alone.” Robert had flinched and, God help him, the power to hurt someone else had suddenly been intoxicating to Jamie. “In fact,” Jamie had gone on, “I don’t know why you hang around with us. You’re Mark’s friend, not mine. And he’s hardly ever here now. So why don’t you go back to Japan? Where you belong. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of blokes like you out there. It’s a polite society, isn’t it? They’ll be happy to do whatever you want. They’ll—” Robert had hit him, with the back of the hand across his face. And Jesus, it had hurt. No one had ever hit Jamie before. He could still remember the shock and the pain. Robert had been shaking. “Maybe you’re right,” he’d said. “Maybe that’s just what I’ll do. Because it’s a bloody sight better than being in this country and having to put up with little prick-teasing shits like you.” He’d gone and Jamie hadn’t seen or heard from him for six years. God, thinking back over it now for the first time, thinking about the terrible things he’d said and done, he was surprised Robert spoke to him at all. Opening his eyes in the real world of the office and putting his hands up to his face, he realized he was crying. 244

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*

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Two weeks later, on the last bank holiday in May, the day before the Monday fete, Robert came to lunch. Jamie hadn’t spoken to him since the office incident. In the end, it was Jamie’s father who’d picked up the phone and invited Robert over. Thinking about Robert’s arrival, Jamie reasoned that meeting him in the company of someone else who knew nothing about what had happened was the best way. He would have to play it cool. But when the doorbell rang at noon as his father and he were leafing through the Sunday papers in the living room, Jamie jumped and began to sweat. “Are you going to answer that?” He stared at his father. “Jamie?” “No. I mean… No.” It sounded rude, but right now his legs weren’t working. Dad blinked and put down his paper. “What? That was the doorbell, wasn’t it? It’ll be Robert. What on earth are you thinking about?” The bell rang again. Insistent, penetrating. Now his skin felt cold. “You see,” his father said, “it was the door. Go and let him in.” Without a word, Jamie walked down the hallway just as the bell was ringing again and opened the door. It was Robert. His face looked lined. Jamie wondered if he might be sick where he stood, but he managed to hold it in. “Jamie, I’m sorrier than I can say about what took place at the office. I was out of line. It won’t happen again. Please, forgive 245

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me.” Robert’s apology took him by surprise, and Jamie simply waved one hand at him, a futile gesture that probably didn’t make any sense. “I’d have rung, emailed, but I didn’t know what to say,” he went on, and knowing exactly what he meant, Jamie almost laughed. There weren’t any social tips for this kind of incident, were there? “Let’s forget it,” Jamie said, his voice not quite under control. “I’m sorry too. God, for hitting you, for loads of stuff, for what I said to you when I was at university, for everything, I’m sorry for it all, Robert. I swear it.” Robert swallowed. “Thank you.” But there was more Jamie wanted to say. “Look, I—” “Robert, is that you? Why don’t you come in?” At the sound of his father’s voice, Jamie turned round to see him hobbling along toward them. “I was about to, Mr. Chadwick. Jamie and I were just talking.” With that, Robert edged past him and shook his father’s hand. “That’s good. It’s always good to see you, Robert. I’m sure we’ll all enjoy lunch. We’re having beef, you know.” “My favorite. How thoughtful of you.” Making sure he spent most of the time in the kitchen staring at the food he wouldn’t taste today, Jamie didn’t have to face Robert again in front of his father until they were sitting at the table. Jamie said nothing, and neither did Robert. From the sudden confidences shared at the front door, they had descended to silence. From the outside, it must have looked like they were a funeral party. At last, it was up to Dad to break the heavy fog drifting through the room. “Jamie is very grateful for all your help, you know,” he said, as 246

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if they’d been talking along these lines already. “I’m sure you’ve done a marvelous job and this little workshop of his will do very well, thanks to you. I remember when Mark—” “Actually, Mr. Chadwick, it’s a very important conference. And when it’s a success, it will all be Jamie’s doing.” Jamie stopped chewing and put down his fork. “Yes, of course.” Dad looked puzzled. “But you can’t say…” “No, really, I mean it. You can be proud of both your sons. For different reasons.” As he spoke, Robert’s leg brushed against Jamie’s under the table. Jamie sprang up before he could stop himself. Openmouthed, his father gazed up at him. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Yeah,” Jamie said. “I’m fine.” “Well, sit down then. We have a guest, and you’ve hardly said a word.” “I think he has things on his mind,” Robert suggested, before he shut up. “Ah, young people these days,” Dad began, and he was off. Jamie spent the rest of lunch on autopilot, nodding and smiling at whatever conversation was aimed in his direction. The thought of Robert touching him again made him shiver. He picked at his food, leaving most of it on the plate, but he didn’t think anyone noticed. They were too busy discussing politics, the Japanese economy, the weather and the fete. After lunch, Jamie loaded the dishwasher, and Robert helped Jamie’s father into the living room. There the older man sat down, reading and discarding the Sunday papers, as they’d done in the morning, and commenting on the interesting sections. Robert was sitting opposite Jamie’s father and at an angle from Jamie. Every 247

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time Jamie glanced up, his eyes would rest for a few moments on Robert and then he would look away. He could no longer tell what he was thinking, but he was aware more than anything of Robert’s profile. His long nose gave him an almost patrician look and his lips were full. Jamie knew what he could do with… God, stop it, he thought. This was crazy. He needed to find something else to think about. Lucy, for instance. Right now, he couldn’t even remember what she looked like. All he could think about was what would happen if Robert… “Jamie? Are you all right?” He came back to where he was with a start and realized he was once more staring at Robert, who was looking back at him with a quizzical expression. At the same time, Jamie realized how excited he was and crossed his legs to try to hide the evidence. Bloody hell. How long had he been gazing at Robert and what could the other man see in his face? “Sure, I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong with me.” “So I see,” said Robert. Jamie colored up, and his father laughed. “I think he’s worrying about the fete. He’s been very quiet all week.” Hey, he thought, if my father had had the sort of experiences I’ve been having lately, he’d probably not be shouting about it afterwards either. Next to this, the fete would be nothing. “I’m sure Jamie’s got other things on his mind.” His father sighed. “Yes, he always has. My younger son is a dreamer, you know. Jamie, please could you get some tea? My throat’s very dry and I don’t want to have another coughing fit. It’s so upsetting, you know.” He scrambled to his feet. “Okay, I’ll get it. Robert?” Robert misunderstood and got up. “Of course, I’ll give you a 248

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hand. I’ll bring the cups in.” Jamie froze and his head filled with noise. Without another word, he left the room and headed off down the hall, aware of Robert behind him. In fact, he was more aware of that than he’d ever been of anything in his entire life. God help him, what was going to happen now? Once in the kitchen, Jamie continued to keep silent. He didn’t even look at Robert. After putting the kettle on, he reached out to open the fridge for the milk, but Robert was there before him. He had no idea which one of them grabbed the other first, but the next thing Jamie knew he was struggling against Robert, mouth pressed hard to his, hands tugging at Robert’s hair. Almost as if they were fighting, though they weren’t. It couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds. Jamie heard the other man groan and, as if he’d been struck, he shoved Robert away from him. Hard enough so his back slammed against the fridge door and he put out his hands to steady himself. “Please. Keep away from me,” Jamie panted. “Don’t touch me again.” Robert’s lip was bleeding from where Jamie must have bitten it. He could taste Robert’s blood in his own mouth, the savor of it heavy on his tongue. Robert looked at Jamie and wiped his lips, the back of his hand drawing a thin smear of blood across his fingers. “Then don’t look at me like that again,” he said, “if you don’t want to be touched.” With that, he turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Jamie to the company of his own thoughts. All the rest of that day and long into the night, Jamie could feel the shape and the warmth of Robert in his arms. And the Limewater fete and all the troubles with Dad seemed a thousand 249

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lifetimes away.

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CHAPTER 19 “No! For goodness’ sake, hold that still and I’ll be able to get the sections in the right place.” Panting with the effort, Jamie tried to keep steady one of the long metallic rods needed for the marquee until David had fixed it the way he wanted. It was seven in the morning, and a small group of them were on the village green struggling to get everything ready for the fete. As if yesterday hadn’t happened at all. Jamie wasn’t enjoying it. The fact Robert was there as well, helping out, only served to make things far worse. Every so often, Jamie would catch sight of him as he worked, although he tried hard not to look. Robert had rolled his sleeves up, and Jamie could see the muscles in his arms straining with physical effort. It was almost unbearable. He felt as if he were 251

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a coiled spring, not knowing when he might spin off into infinity and be lost. Nearly three hours later and they had an almost respectable marquee, together with several pristine-looking tents. In contrast, they were dirty, tired and aching. While Michael went off to fetch some drinks from the pub, David sat down with a thump. “Bloody hard work, isn’t it? Great, though, this all-lads-together stuff.” Robert snorted a response, and David shut up. Jamie sat down on the nearest bale of straw and rubbed his face, breathing in the scent of sweat and dust from his skin. Someone came to sit next to him, and, looking around, he saw it was David. “Seen Lucy at all?” David said. “No. Not recently, worse luck. She’s been playing hard to get.” This was only partly true. Jamie couldn’t seem to get hold of her, but he hadn’t been trying much either, what with one thing and another. He had to speak with her soon. “Right. Just wondered how…how her stall was going.” Jamie shrugged. “I don’t know.” Michael came back, clutching a crate of beer. “I know it’s early, but I thought you’d prefer this to water.” Ten pairs of hands reached as one toward the crate. “Great. Thanks, Michael,” Robert said, and Jamie found himself staring at the shape of his Adam’s apple as he drank. At once, he turned away. “I didn’t think you drank anything but Pernod and black these days,” Jamie said to David, more to distract himself from his thoughts than anything else. But the strength of David’s reaction startled him. 252

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“A bloke can change his mind, can’t he? Nothing’s set in stone.” “Okay,” he said, aware of Robert’s raised eyebrow. “Cool it. I didn’t mean anything.” “Good.” David continued to stare at him with such intensity that Jamie wondered what the hell was going on now. He’d had enough. “I’m tired,” he said. “I’m going back home. See you later.” “Okay.” David seemed to crumple from his peculiar defiance and even smiled at him. “Thanks for your help.” At home, Mary was making biscuits. The smell of lemons drew him like a bee to honey. “Hello, Jamie. I didn’t hear you come in. Your father’s just skimming through yesterday’s papers. He looks a little pale to me. I hope he won’t get too excited, what with the stall you’re doing. Is everything going well out there?” “Yeah, great.” “Wonderful, dear. I always think the fete comes around faster each year. It’s such an enjoyable day. And dear David has worked so hard to ensure everything goes to plan. With a little help from me, of course. Is the marquee up?” “Yes, as up as it’ll ever be. I’ll just go and grab a shower while I can. See you in a minute.” She smiled and continued to hum happily to herself as Jamie made his way upstairs. Under the refreshing blast of the shower, he began to feel less hot and to lose the sense of imminent doom that had been hanging over his head since waking up. Maybe the day would be all right. Maybe if he could just keep away from Robert and stop thinking about him all the time, nothing else would go wrong. Maybe he could make things work out with Lucy. 253

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Somehow. Robert would soon be gone, his UK office set up and no reason for him to be anywhere else but Japan. No reason at all. Though God alone knew why he’d stayed here so long anyway. There was no real need, was there? Was there? Still, the thought of Robert leaving brought a sickening lurch to Jamie’s stomach and he found he didn’t want to think of it any more. During an early lunch, his father began to get more and more excited about the golf stall. “Do you think we’ll get many customers?” “I don’t know, Dad. It depends on the weather. Like always.” Jamie glanced out of the window, but had no idea how to interpret the clouds. He’d never been any good with nature. It was getting windier, though. Might blow them in some more visitors. Church funds certainly needed it. “I’m so looking forward to it. Do you remember when Mark was still here? We always used to enjoy the fete together as a family, didn’t we?” Jamie said nothing, but grimaced at the memories of Mark winning at the coconut shy, Mark winning something in the raffle, Mark being at the front of the steam train they’d had one year. This year, Dad only had him. What a letdown. A knock at the door heralded the arrival of Lucy and Carina to pick up their boxes of jam. To Jamie’s delight, Lucy greeted him with a quick kiss. Reassured by this, he smiled at Carina. She smiled back. “How’s it going?” “Fine, thanks. Do you want lunch?” “No, that’s all right,” Lucy spoke for the first time. “We don’t have much time. There’s a lot to do, though Nick will be giving us a hand, of course.” 254

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She and Carina exchanged grins, and at once Jamie felt excluded, even useless, again. He’d have to catch his on-off girlfriend at a later date, when she was alone. Whenever that might be. It didn’t take long for them to load up Lucy’s car and soon they’d driven off. “Goodness!” Mary said, coming up behind Jamie as he was staring out of the front door after them. “All this organization! Each year, I forget how much it takes out of me. You know, it takes me back to the old days.” She carried on for a while before Jamie thought it wisest to interrupt the flow. “Mary, I’d better get on. But if you want any help, let me know.” “No, no. That’ll be fine, dear. You’ve got your father to keep an eye on, but thank you so much for offering. I’m sure Nick will give me a hand here and there.” Jamie was just thinking how unlikely that was when she gave him a mischievous grin. “That is, if he can tear himself away from dear Carina, of course.” He stared at her, and she burst into laughter. “Don’t look so surprised, Jamie. We were all young once. Even me.” Well, that put me in my place, Jamie thought later on, as he helped his father onto his chair in the corner of the green they’d carved out for themselves. “Do you think we’ll be all right here?” he quavered. “David never said where we should be, and I don’t want to cause any trouble.” “We’ll be fine. Don’t worry. People can see us. We’re on a direct line with the entrance. We’ll never be able to escape.” 255

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Making sure he was comfortable, Jamie started to set out the games his dad had been so enthusiastic about offering. It included a putting challenge, a targeting game and one where you had to pitch your ball into an upturned umbrella. He rearranged them several times before Dad was happy. Then he gazed around the green where everyone stood in expectation beside their particular stalls, waiting for the crowd. He could see Lucy in the distance talking to David and he wondered what she was telling him. At two P.M., they opened the gates and, as usual, John made a short speech welcoming everyone. Lucy and Carina’s jam stall was ransacked by hordes of people anxious to put something homemade on their morning toast. At this rate, they’d be finished in half an hour. Mind you, they still had the bottles to raffle. For the first time, it struck Jamie that the golf game was the only one sure to last all afternoon. He’d never get Lucy on her own again at this rate. “May I try my luck here?” He jumped at the familiar voice and turned. “Sorry,” Robert said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just thought all this looked very interesting.” Did it? With a sweep of his hand, Robert indicated the games, and Jamie’s father nodded in agreement. “Yes, Jamie’s laid it all out very well, don’t you think?” “A golf course designer in the making.” “Dad told me where to put everything. Anyway, it’s just a game.” “Which doesn’t mean to say it’s not important,” Robert said. “Quite right, Robert. Golf is always important, no matter how it’s played. I miss not being able to get out for a round now, but in 256

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my younger days, as you know, I was quite the player. Oh, yes, indeed. Why, I can remember one occasion when …” By now, like his war stories, Jamie had heard all his father’s long and complicated golf tales so he didn’t concentrate too much on this one. He was more worried about whether Robert would stay. “Shouldn’t you be looking after your stall?” he said as soon as his father had finished, and Robert smiled. “But, Jamie, there’s still some jam and chutney left, so the madding crowd hasn’t moved on to us yet. I’m sure John can cope for a few minutes.” “Which of these would you like to use?” Dad asked, indicating his prized collection of clubs. Robert looked through the bag, his elegant fingers separating putter from pitching wedge, nine-iron from driver. “These are marvelous, Mr. Chadwick. You’re very lucky to have such a collection. I’m envious.” Dad looked chuffed. “But you’ve seen them before, haven’t you? After all, you helped retrieve them from the loft.” Jamie dropped the pot of change he was holding and scrabbled around in the grass, trying to retrieve the scattered coins. He didn’t know if his breathing would ever be steady again, but Dad seemed oblivious to the change of mood. “Take your time,” he said. “Some things can’t be rushed, you know. Golf in all its forms being one of them.” Robert said nothing. Jamie took his money, and Robert made a brave attempt at all the various permutations. He managed to get three out of five balls into the umbrella with the pitching wedge. Jamie was impressed. However, the other games defeated him and, in the end, he won nothing. 257

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When Jamie reached out to take back the clubs, Robert held onto them, making Jamie look up at him. Jamie had his back to his father, who had already sat again. “It’s not as easy as it looks, is it?” Robert said. “Playing with these can be quite a challenge. Even for me.” Then he leaned forward so his face was almost touching Jamie’s. “But I think it might be worth the effort, don’t you? Look, why don’t we—” “How’s it going over here?” Jamie swung round to see Lucy standing next to Dad and holding a couple of pots of jam close to her chest. She was giving Robert and him a curious stare. Jamie’s enthusiastic hug almost knocked her off her feet, and she giggled before extricating herself. For a moment, she was the old Lucy again. “Mind the pots, for goodness sake. They’re for your father. I don’t want them broken.” Out of the corner of his eye, Jamie saw Robert head back into the middle of the green. He was soon lost amongst the noise and color of the dozens of families with children running from one stall to the other or playing games in the sunshine. “What a lovely idea, Lucy. Thank you so much.” Dad took the jars and placed them next to his seat. “I thought I ought to bring some over before we sold out entirely. It’s madness over there. Carina’s doing an excellent job on the wine as well. But I must say most of it appears to be going to Nick.” His father chuckled, and Jamie wondered how much he knew. “David all sorted out, is he?” Jamie asked. “Yes. Why?” “No reason. I saw you talking to him earlier on. It looked very serious.” 258

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Lucy folded her arms. “Not really. Just fete stuff, that’s all.” “Oh.” Jamie stared at her, realizing how radiant she looked. Almost glowing. Under his gaze, she blushed. “What?” “Nothing,” he whispered so his father wouldn’t overhear. “Just thinking how lovely you look today, that’s all.” “Don’t be silly.” “I’m not. And you do. Lucy, I wonder…” “What?” “If we could still talk about…things, you know. I realize I made an idiot of myself over what you said, but I was surprised, that’s all. I’m sorry if I upset you. I know I should’ve said something before this, but everything’s been hectic recently.” “Look, I’m sorry,” she said, “but I ought to get back to help Carina.” “But, Lucy, I…” Too late. Again. She’d already scuttled off toward her stall. Never mind, he thought, there’s still plenty of time left. He’d make sure they got this sorted out once and for all before the day was over, or his name wasn’t James Owen Philip Chadwick. Over the course of the afternoon, a steady stream of people visited them, and Jamie was pleased with how much money they were taking in. Perfecting his sales patter for the stall wasn’t that different from his sales patter for the conference trade and he thought even his father might be impressed with his marketing skills. At what he considered to be the halfway point, Jamie shut up shop for half an hour, while his father made his way around, peering at the other stalls and chatting with the older villagers. 259

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Meanwhile, Jamie took the opportunity to grab a beer and stood at the entrance to the refreshment tent drinking it. Over at the lucky dip, he could see John and Robert busy with a queue of excited children, eager to see what they could win. It was obvious Robert wasn’t enjoying himself. Seeing Jamie loitering without purpose, Mary beckoned him over to her stall, where, under her firm guidance, he rummaged through the bric-a-brac on offer. There wasn’t a lot left. “Don’t you see anything you fancy, dear?” Jamie glanced across at the lucky dip for a second. “No, I’m afraid not.” “Well, the best stuff always gets taken first, you know. You have to be an early bird to catch the worm around Limewater.” You’d have to be some strange bird as well to want what Mary was selling today. Who would want a zip-up tie, a 1950s sweet tray and a wooden holder to lean your books on? No one—otherwise they wouldn’t still be here, of course. They’d probably see them at the fete again next year, and the year after that, but it was best to keep his mouth shut. No point in upsetting Mary. At the next stall, his father tried to win something else on the raffle, failed and looked over at him. “Any chance of a cup of tea, Jamie? This is hot work, you know. Or perhaps a beer? Just the one wouldn’t do me any harm, would it?” “Sure,” Jamie said, after a moment’s hesitation. “Just this once then. But don’t tell the doctor.” In the beer tent, Jamie asked for a half-beaker and filled the rest of the mug with water. Maximum enjoyment for his father, with minimum medical anxiety. He hoped. The thought made him smile. His fantasy hit list wasn’t having much of an effect on his real life and he wasn’t yet totally insane. Thank God. On his way 260

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out, and only two steps around the corner of the tent, he almost fell over David. “What the—” Jamie said, only just managing not to spill the diluted beer all over him. “Are you okay?” “Sorry,” David said, getting up and running his hand through his hair. “I was just checking the tent pegs. I don’t want a disaster to happen. Not today.” “It was fine this morning and it’ll be fine now. Just relax. You’re not going to kill anyone.” “That’s all right for you to say, but I want this to go well. I really want it to be a success.” He turned and fixed Jamie with a look he couldn’t fathom. “It’s important, you see.” “Yes, I see it is.” Jamie tried to move away, but David was still talking. “I don’t want to let people down, you know. This is all new to me and it has to work. It just has to.” “Why?” “What?” “It’s not life and death, for God’s sake, David. It’s the fete.” “It’s more than that. I thought if everything went smoothly, the village would see I’m not as odd as they think I am.” No need to worry about that, Jamie thought. Limewater was filled to the brim with oddities. Next to the rest of them, including Jamie at the moment, David’s peculiarities were as nothing. “Come on, David. You should know by now that everyone in Suffolk is more than one pot short of a jam stall. Welcome to the gang.” Smiling at his bemused expression, Jamie clapped him on the shoulder and made his escape. On the other side of the tent, he almost fell over Nick and Carina. Wondering why people couldn’t 261

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make themselves more visible around here, he managed to save his father’s treat for the second time. They didn’t notice him, though, as they were kissing. Not simply light pecks, but full-on stuff. Just like… No. He wasn’t going to think like that. Not now. Jamie backed off as discreetly as possible, and they never looked up, although the noise he made would have been obvious to anyone else. Maybe he’d take the long way around. It might be a damn sight safer. Stepping back along the other side of the marquee, and with David nowhere to be seen, Jamie had only gone a few paces through the outskirts of the trees when a hand gripped his shoulder and he was spun around to face Robert. His father’s beaker shot away into the bushes and the beer vanished forever. “Jesus! What?” was all he managed to say before Robert’s mouth was once again clamped onto his, his tongue already halfway down Jamie’s welcoming throat. Jamie clutched at him and, almost ripping Robert’s shirt, overbalanced and pulled both of them into the undergrowth, bracken and clumps of dried grasses scratching at his neck and arms as they fell. “I…just…wanted…to…talk to you,” Robert panted, kissing him over and over again on the eyes and lips and hair, his fingers tearing at Jamie’s buttons. “But I think I…” This didn’t seem much like talking to Jamie, but, all of a sudden, Robert stopped. “Christ,” he said. “Oh, Christ. I can’t. I mean, we can’t…” Underneath him, Jamie was doing his best to twist his body to fit as closely as possible with Robert’s. “Don’t stop,” he heard himself beg. “Please. Let’s just do it this time. For fuck’s sake. Let’s just do it.” 262

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“Hush.” Robert held his hand over Jamie’s mouth to quiet him. “We can’t. Believe me, we can’t.” “Why ever not?” Holding him until he was still, Robert whispered, the regret pulsating through his voice, “I’m sorry. It’s a public place and, besides, I’ve got nothing with me. No protection.” “I thought all you people were…” “What? Supposed to be at it like rabbits from dawn till dusk with a packet of condoms in every pocket? God, I wish.” Jamie heard the amusement in Robert’s voice and could have, at that moment, almost hit him again if he’d been capable of finding the will. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m at the village fete today, not the local gay bar. In case you hadn’t noticed.” Robert rolled away. With not a thought in his head for anyone or anything else but the other man, Jamie half-sat up and reached for Robert’s hand, bringing it to his lips. Jamie was trailing a line of kisses across his wrist and palm, enjoying the warmth of Robert’s skin against his mouth, when something shifted at the edge of his vision. When he looked up, he found himself gazing straight into the startled eyes of Carina. “God,” he said, and leapt to his feet. How long had she been there? “Carina, it’s not what you think. Robert and I were just talking. We…” At first she didn’t reply. Then, shaking her head, she backed away. “No, no. It’s all right. I thought I heard a noise and…I’m sso sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll just go and…and see how Nick is getting on.” With that, she turned and fled round the corner of the tent, back 263

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onto the village green as if the devil was after her. Jamie made as if to follow, but Robert grabbed him by the arm. “Leave it,” he said. “You’ll make things worse. Let her go.” “But she’ll think I… She’ll tell Lucy, and I don’t want her to know about this. Not when there might still be a chance with her and…” In truth, Jamie had no idea what he wanted. His head was buzzing and logic of any kind was impossible. Robert released his arm and took a couple of steps backwards. “You don’t get it, do you?” “Get what?” “All this.” Robert gestured at the place where they’d been lying, the grass flattened by their bodies. “This thing you and I have suddenly got going again after all this time. You just don’t—” “For God’s sake, shut up.” He didn’t want to hear any of what Robert wanted to say. He couldn’t even begin to cope with it. “I don’t have a clue what’s going on. Do you understand? I’m supposed to be with Lucy. For all our sakes, maybe you should just leave me alone.” “Fine by me,” Robert said. “As I think I’ve said before, I don’t have any special interest in prick-teasers. And the last thing I need right now is another tourist.” He stopped, and Jamie stared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Never mind. Forget it.” Robert scowled. “It’s none of your business anyway. Take my advice. If you get the urge to mess around with someone who isn’t your precious Lucy just for a bit of fun again, don’t bother. Because it sure as hell won’t be me.” With that parting shot, he walked away. The fete was over. 264

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CHAPTER 20 Jamie didn’t hear any of the gossip or laughter about the fete and he had no idea who’d won the raffle. He wasn’t interested in how much bric-a-brac there was left or how long it had taken to clear up, and nobody told him how much money they might have raised. Because he wasn’t there when all that happened. When Robert had walked away across the grass, Jamie couldn’t bring himself to watch him. Instead, he’d found his father and told him he was leaving. Ignoring any objections, Jamie had said he felt sick and that Mary or Michael would bring him home. Then he’d walked away from his father’s questions, stopping only to let Mary know what he was doing, and he’d driven home. He’d lain on the bed, staring up at the swirled whiteness of the 265

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ceiling and watched the afternoon sun cast shadows across the room from the trees. He felt light-headed, as if he’d been drinking or hadn’t eaten for some time. He got up, turned on the radio and listened as the sound of Beethoven’s Sixth filled his head. That was better. He could concentrate on the music and not think about the many failures of the last hour. Not think about the people he’d let down. Not think about Robert. He lurched up and groaned as he remembered Carina. She’d seen what had happened between Robert and him. Or some of it. How much had she seen? How much had she heard? Who would she tell? What would they all think? If Jamie could raise the energy, he’d add her to that hit list. Maybe even put her first. Turning around, he reached inside the bedside cabinet and took out the precious, life-saving piece of paper. Unfolding it, he read the contents again. JAMIE’S HIT LIST 1. My father—Smothering. Or possibly strangling 2. David—Stabbing 3. Mary Prentice (but only because if Dad disappeared, she’d want to know why)—Inhalation of noxious gases. Or electric shock 4. Michael (unless he stops spreading those nasty rumors about me)—Alcohol poisoning 5. Mark—Shooting Reading it made him feel calmer. And that had to be a plus point. So he considered the matter at length, tore off a fresh sheet from the notepad and wrote a new list. 266

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JAMIE’S HIT LIST 1. My father—Smothering. Or possibly strangling 2. Carina—Drowning. In the font if I can manage it 3. David—Stabbing 4. Mary Prentice (but only because if Dad disappeared, she’d want to know why)— Inhalation of noxious gases. Or electric shock 5. Mark—Shooting. Looking at the results of his frantic scribbling made Jamie smile. Writing this kind of lunatic stuff down seemed to get rid of some of the confusion he felt inside, just as long as no one thought he was an actual murderer or anything nasty, and he slept away the next hour or so with a happier mind. At about six-thirty, the front door opened, and he heard his father come in, talking. The voice that answered him belonged to a man, but Jamie was too half-asleep to work out who it was. Probably Michael or someone else from the pub. Trusting that whoever had been kind enough to see his father home would settle him in before leaving, Jamie lay back and went to sleep again. When he woke up, it was half-past seven, and his father was banging on the bedroom door. “I was wondering if you were well,” he said, one hand against the wall for support. “It’s nasty if the sun gets you.” When he said nothing else, Jamie rubbed his eyes to wake himself up and stared at the older man. His heart battered an uncertain rhythm in his throat. His father looked shrunken, as if he’d been left out in the rain overnight and nobody had thought to take him in. “It wasn’t the sun, but I’m fine. I’ll come down and make supper now. Are you okay?” 267

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Dad coughed. “I’m fine, but I don’t want any food. I just knocked to let you know I’m going to go to bed. I’m very tired and my legs are aching.” “Are they?” That was strange about supper. His father never missed food if he could help it. “Have you taken your pills?” “Yes, so don’t nag me. I just need my sleep.” He started to hobble along the landing to his bedroom, one hand clutching his leg, and Jamie leapt up to keep a watching brief on his slow progress. Be there if his dad needed him. “Fete tired you out, I suppose?” he said. “Must have done. I enjoyed it though. Very much.” “Sure,” Jamie said, not wanting him to say any more about the afternoon. “Good of Michael or whoever to bring you back.” “Yes, it was, wasn’t it?” he said, opening his bedroom door and switching on the light. “But it wasn’t Michael. It was Robert.” *

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“Jamie! Jamie!” Jamie came gasping and shaking out of a dream that fragmented away from his memory the moment the warm night air brought him back to where he was. For a few seconds, he had no idea why he was awake, but then his father screamed again. It sounded bad. Worse than usual. Bloody hell. He raced to Dad’s room. When he opened the door, all thought vanished. His father was half in, half out of the bed, his bad leg twisted up into the bedclothes and his arms and shoulders wedged next to the cabinet. The room smelt of sweat and terror. “What? How on earth…?” 268

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“I was trying…to get my pills. Didn’t…want to disturb you.” He was almost crying. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” “For God’s sake, Dad.” For a few minutes, Jamie struggled to get him back into a reasonable position, but couldn’t get the leverage needed without causing him to moan with the pain. He stopped what he was doing. “You’re going to have to help me. I can’t do this by myself.” “I can’t, I can’t, Please, help me.” “Try, Dad. Can you use your arm to push yourself?” He tried once, but then cried out and collapsed again. The acrid smell of piss was suddenly overpowering. “Hell,” Jamie swore without thinking. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “I’m sorry.” And then the words were loud and bright in Jamie’s head, as if someone was speaking to him aloud, someone he couldn’t recognize. Smother him then. You could do it now. No one would know. It could be the first from your hit list. Now’s your chance. Stepping back, Jamie blinked and his mind went suddenly empty. The pillow on his father’s bed was within easy reach. He could just take it and hold it down. Hold it over Dad’s face and it would all be over. Wouldn’t it? All this would be over. For both of them. “Jamie, Jamie.” Dad moaned. “What?” His voice didn’t sound like his own, but Dad was too far gone to notice. “Why don’t you help me? Please. If Mark were here, he’d know what to do. He’d—” “Jesus, Dad, why don’t you shut the fuck up about Mark for once?” 269

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He slammed his fists into the bedclothes a hair’s breadth away from his father’s leg. His yelling had made Dad shut up. That felt good. For one amazing moment, it felt like Jamie was in charge. He hadn’t realized his eyes had closed, but when he opened them, he could see his father’s face white with tension and, beside him, the shape of the pillow. The pillow. Jamie breathed once, twice. Reached for the pillow, looked at Dad’s face, stopped what he was doing and breathed again. Then he stood up and backed out of the room, closing the door against his father’s sobbing. He was shaking. He couldn’t stop. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t go back in, not by himself. No matter how bad his father was. He couldn’t face him. Jamie walked into his office like a robot. His legs wouldn’t go where he wanted them to. Picking up the phone, he glanced at his watch. Three-thirty in the morning. Never mind. He dialed. “Hello?” Robert’s voice was heavy with sleep. “Help me. You’ve got to help me.” “Jamie? Is that you?” “Yeah.” His body was still shaking, but he seemed unable to move to sit down. “What’s wrong?” “It’s Dad. And me. Please come.” A pause. Then Robert spoke. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” He made it in ten. When Jamie opened the door, Robert took one look at his face and raced upstairs to Dad’s bedroom. He didn’t have to ask which one it was; the crying made it obvious. Jamie followed him slowly and stood on the threshold staring at the mess inside. Now there was vomit on the bedclothes, which, 270

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mixed with the stale smell of piss, made his stomach heave. Robert didn’t seem to notice. Jamie started to say something, but Robert cut him off. “It’s all right, Jamie. I’m here now. It’s all right. Mr. Chadwick, we’re going to try to lower you to the floor and move the bed back. I think that’s our only option.” Dad nodded, still crying, and a few minutes later, he was lying in his blankets on the floor with the bed in the middle of the room. “Jamie? I think your father needs a doctor,” Robert said gently. “Yes, I see,” Jamie said, feeling as if his voice was coming from a thousand miles away, but surprised at how normal it sounded. “Dad, someone needs to look at your leg. I’m going to call for an ambulance.” “No! I don’t need anyone.” Jamie ignored his father’s protests. He couldn’t even bring himself to look him in the eye. “Hospital will be the best thing, Mr. Chadwick,” Robert said, as Jamie’s father’s breathing grew harsher. “Your son is right.” “No! I won’t leave this house, I won’t.” “I’ll do it, if you’d like,” Robert said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his mobile phone. “Don’t do that,” Jamie said. “Jamie, don’t let them take me,” Dad whimpered. “You understand, don’t you? I won’t go.” “That’s madness,” Robert said, staring at him in disbelief. “And you know it. Your father needs to see a doctor. Now.” His phone was still on, so Jamie held out his hand. “Give the phone to me, Robert.” He hesitated for a fraction of a second before handing it over. Turning his back on them both, Jamie punched in the numbers. 271

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If this was what was going to happen, then he would be the one to do it, if only to ensure he did the right thing at least once today. “Ambulance, please,” he said. Beside them, his father began to moan to himself. And then he began to shout. *

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All the way to the hospital, his father said nothing to Jamie and, behind them, Robert followed in his car. Once there, the staff sprang into action and took Dad away to be examined, while Jamie was left to wait. There weren’t many other people around, which was a relief. He sat in what was nothing more than a glorified corridor and stared at the whitewashed walls, trying to ignore the smell of bleach and forced cleanliness. Here and there, various posters telling him about flu, meningitis and the dangers of casual sex reminded him that other people had bad days, too. Not that it helped much. “Coffee? Sorry there’s nothing stronger.” Glancing up, he saw Robert standing in front of him holding two steaming cups of oily black liquid. Jamie nodded and took the one he offered while Robert sat down. For a few minutes, they were silent. The coffee tasted like a slice of heaven. “You did the best thing, you know.” Jamie grimaced, thinking back to the twenty minutes between phoning for the ambulance and its arrival, when his father had called him every name under the sun and more. But he’d deserved it after what he’d wanted to do. His father had only stopped 272

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shouting when Robert had said he could hear the ambulance coming and was sure the Chadwicks wouldn’t want their family differences to be all over Suffolk by morning. He must have meant it to be funny, to lighten the mood, but nobody had laughed. “He didn’t mean it, you know? He was upset. And in pain. A lot of pain.” Jamie shrugged and fixed his eyes straight ahead until they felt sore from staring at nothing. “Yes, he did,” he said. “He did mean it and he was right. But he could have said worse things to me if he’d wanted to. I’m a bastard, and he must hate me now. He’d rather have Mark with him, not me. Can you blame him? Always it’s been Mark, Mark, Mark, all the bloody way. And now he’s been proved right, because you know what? I’d had enough. “I really wanted to kill him in there. I wanted to take hold of the pillow and press it down over his face, down and down until he stopped breathing and the pain stopped, too. God, I wanted him to die, to put an end to it. I’ve been thinking about it for ages. I must have been. I’ve even written out a list with all the people on it that I’d like to get rid of. All the people who make life so bloody difficult. Dad was at the top. What kind of a bloke does that make me? What kind of a son? I don’t even know if I love him. I can’t tell any more. It’s too hard to think about. I’m an evil bastard and the only reason I didn’t actually kill him was because…because he was looking at me.” And then Jamie began to cry. Not muffled tears he could wipe away surreptitiously with the back of his hand, but great wrenching sobs that shook him to the core. He couldn’t seem to stop them. The coffee cup vanished from his hands, spirited away to God knew where, and then Robert’s arms went around him. Robert was 273

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kneeling in front of him, holding his body and rocking him, like a child. Jamie buried his face in the warmth of the other man’s shoulder and let the tears come. It felt as if they’d been there for a lifetime, waiting to break him like this. He didn’t know how long he cried for or how long Robert held him, murmuring soothing words into his ear, at times simply humming, the vibration of it sending a tremor through both their bodies. At one point, he thought a nurse might have approached them, but he couldn’t deal with that either. Robert said something to her, and she went away again. Jamie was glad of it. Finally, the crying stopped and he was still. Robert soothed his hair, pressed his lips briefly to the side of Jamie’s neck. “It’s okay, love,” he whispered. “It’s okay. You didn’t kill him. You’re not a bastard or a murderer. You didn’t kill your father and you called me.” Jamie blinked at him and wiped his nose with the handkerchief Robert offered just as another nurse, or perhaps even the same one, bustled up toward them and introduced herself. All the time she was telling Robert they’d given Mr. Chadwick some drugs and he was now sleeping, Jamie stared at the floor. Later on, she said, they’d be carrying out tests to find out the extent of the problem. “How long will he be in here?” Jamie asked when there was a suitable pause. “I’m not sure, Mr. Chadwick,” she said. “Not long, we hope. Maybe a few days.” “Can’t it be longer?” “Well, I…” “What my friend means,” Robert said with a smooth smile, “is it’s important to carry out a thorough investigation so we know what we’re dealing with.” 274

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Jamie hadn’t meant that at all. He’d meant his father would surely be safer in hospital than he was at home. But the nurse didn’t know any of that and relaxed under the power of Robert’s charm. “It’s true we would like to keep him under observation for a little while. He was in a bad way when he came in.” “God,” Jamie interrupted. “Not as bad as if I’d—” “Shut up, Jamie,” Robert said, then turned back to the nurse. “So what happens now?” “We won’t know until we get the results, sir. The best thing you can do now is go home, get some sleep and come back later.” Robert got up and took his arm, as if Jamie and not his father, was the sick one. “Come on. The nurse is right. Your father’s in the best place here. Get some sleep and you’ll be able to cope better afterwards.” Not having the strength to argue, Jamie let Robert lead him out down the pristine corridors all the way to his car and then drive them back to Limewater. *

*

*

At home, Jamie waved him in. In the hallway, Robert took one look at him and said, “Sleep.” Even before Jamie opened his mouth to disagree, he knew Robert was right. There was something else he knew was right also. And now, here in the early morning’s quietness, it was time. He held out his hand to the older man. “Come with me,” he said. “Come and sleep with me then. Please?” Shadows played across Robert’s face. Jamie couldn’t tell what 275

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was emotion and what was simply the dance of the hall light across his skin. Perhaps it didn’t matter. Robert swallowed. “Thank you. I’d love that very much. More than you can know. But we’re both tired, we’ve been through a lot tonight and, as before, I’ve got nothing with me.” Jamie took Robert’s hand. Kissed it again. “But I have,” he said. “The right stuff, I think. And it doesn’t matter whether we do something or nothing. I don’t mind. I just want to be with you, Robert. I just want to be with you.” Nothing more needed to be spoken. In his bedroom, they undressed each other slowly, then slipped naked under the covers together. Kissing Robert like this took all thought of tiredness utterly away for Jamie, and the same seemed to be true for the other man, too. Still, it took a while for Jamie to relax enough for Robert to enter him, which he did carefully and with such tenderness that Jamie found he was murmuring aloud the crazy things he’d wanted to say to Robert for so long. There was pain, too, more than he’d expected, but then the bliss of it took everything over and he didn’t mind the pain any more. And when Robert murmured the crazy things back, that felt the best of all. After they’d finished, he lay in Robert’s arms, feeling his breath on the back of his neck, and then he couldn’t remember anything more at all. When Jamie woke up, it was gone eight o’clock. The space in the bed beside him was empty, but he could hear noises downstairs. Robert was still here. He wasn’t sure how that made him feel. Last night had been…wonderful, but in the morning, everything about his life remained as it had been. None of the issues he’d temporarily left behind when he’d reached out his hand 276

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to take Robert’s had vanished. They were still here, too—his uncertainties, his job, his father. And now Robert as well. He had no idea how any of them fitted together. If at all. Jamie stretched out and looked at the patterns the sun was making over the paintwork on the ceiling. It was tempting not to get up, but simply to lie here and wait for the world to sort itself out without him. But there were too many things needing his attention, his father the most important of any of them. After a shower and a quick shave, he dressed in whatever came to hand and made his way downstairs. When he walked into the kitchen, Robert was sitting at the table. “Hello.” “Hi.” Jamie felt his face grow hot. His heart was beating fast and his eyes slid away from the other man’s. The memory of what had happened hung in the air. Once more, he had words he wanted to say, but didn’t know how to say them. He heard Robert sigh. “It’s all right, Jamie. I know what happened last night was unexpected. As well as delightful. But I know you have a thousand other things to think about, perhaps even think through, I don’t know. Anyway, we don’t have to talk about it at all now. Not if you don’t want to.” Jamie didn’t reply immediately. He couldn’t. Instead, he switched on the kettle and waited for it to boil. It felt as if his head was filled to the brim with conflicting ideas, none of which he could fully grasp. “Thank you,” he said at last. Then, “Robert, I…I don’t want you to think…” “I don’t. Whatever it is you’re going to say, I don’t think that.” And then Robert was there. Behind Jamie, encircling him with 277

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his arms. He leaned back into the embrace and closed his eyes. After a while, their breathing rose and fell in unison. Eventually Jamie eased himself away. There was another short silence while they both stared out of the window. Then he said, “If you want to use the shower, be my guest.” “You saying I need to?” Robert smiled, the spell of whatever had for a while been singing between them broken, and Jamie felt his face grow hot. Again. “No, of course not. I’m just being polite. But if you want to, go ahead.” Robert stood up and stretched, muscles tensing under his skin. Jamie stared, fascinated. “I’ll shower. Thanks for the offer. I’ll see you in five minutes.” By the time he came back, Jamie had made toast and put out the cereals. Robert smiled, and they sat down and ate in companionable silence. Outside, he could hear the village waking up, the sound of birds, a dog barking, the faint growl of a car. It was funny how quickly things moved on and another day started, no matter what was happening elsewhere. Jamie was still mulling this over when Robert spoke and he jumped. “You should ring Mark, you know. To let him know what’s happened.” “Oh, hell, yes. I’ll do it now.” Robert was right, but he wasn’t looking forward to the conversation. “Do you want me to go?” Getting up, Jamie said, “No. Unless you need to get away.” He shook his head. “Then stay.” He left Robert in the kitchen and walked to the living room. His hands were shaking as he dialed Mark’s number. He never 278

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rang his half-brother if he could help it and he wondered what Mark would say. He answered on the second ring. “Mark? It’s me, Jamie.” “Oh, hello, little brother. This is a rare treat. Ringing for some dating advice, are we?” God, Jamie thought. That was the least of his problems right now. As best he could, he filled Mark in with the events of last night and this morning—or the parts he felt able to tell at all—then sat back and waited for accusations of his lack of care that he’d let it come to this. Of course, Mark would be right. In whatever he said. The accusations didn’t materialize. “I’ll fly over,” Mark said. “What?” “I’ll take the next flight out and be back home as soon as I can. Allie can hold the fort here for a while.” “You don’t have to. It’s not life-threatening.” Jamie’s throat constricted. “At least, they haven’t said it is.” “So what are they doing?” “Tests. Whatever that means. Which will take a few days. Then we’ll know more.” “By which time, I’ll be there.” Jamie was speechless. Mark coming over wasn’t what he’d expected, and he didn’t know if it was a bad thing or a good one. Too many Chadwicks, and so on. “Are you there? Jamie?” “Yes, I’m here. I’m just…tired, that’s all.” “Sure. Well, I’ll ring you when I’m there. By the way, do you have the hospital number?” He scrabbled around for the directory and read it out. 279

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“Great. Thanks for ringing. And well done for dealing with the whole crisis.” He swallowed. “Sure. Cheers then, Mark.” “Yeah, cheers.” After Jamie had replaced the receiver, he got to his feet, tidied the papers into the rack, opened the curtains and looked out at the day. Then he sat down again. The door behind him opened, and Robert came in. “Everything all right?” “Mark’s coming over.” “Of course he is. His father’s in hospital.” “Right.” Stupidly, he hadn’t thought about it like that before. “What did you expect?” “The usual. You know.” “No, I don’t know,” he said, drawing up a chair so he was sitting opposite. “Tell me.” “Well, I thought he’d say something negative about how I’d handled it.” Jamie snorted and pushed one hand through his hair. “And why shouldn’t he? He’d be right. Because I didn’t tell him what I told you. I didn’t tell him what I’d really done. I…” His voice trailed off into silence and he looked away. “Hey, now, you did your best. You’re under a great deal of pressure and there’s no reason to blame yourself. Other people in your position think about doing the same, Jamie. But you haven’t hurt your father and he’s in good hands. It’ll be fine. Trust me on that.” As Robert carried on talking, he leant forward and began to stroke Jamie’s hair and neck. It felt good. Up and down. Up and down went his hand. It was more soothing than sexy and all the while, he talked. About Jamie’s father and Mark. About work and 280

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the weather and what was happening in the village and in Japan. All things that must have made some sort of sense if Jamie had been listening, and he nodded in agreement, but it didn’t matter if they hadn’t made any sense, as the main thing was the soft murmur of Robert’s voice and the touch of his hand. He was already halfasleep and then Robert was kissing him again. Tentatively this time. Almost as if he were asking permission. Which he hadn’t needed to last night. Not at all. Jamie was kissing him back, without passion, but with considerable affection, smiling as he moved closer to Robert, trying to hold him as carefully as possible, their knees bumping together, Robert’s chair tilting slightly as he ran one hand along Jamie’s shirt, tugging it free and…and…and… And the phone’s shrill demand splintered the world they’d created that was no world. “Robert,” he mumbled, and pulled away from him, still tasting him in his mouth, trying to bring himself back into reality. “What am I doing? Why the hell am I like this with you?” “I can’t answer that for you, Jamie,” he whispered. “Don’t ask me to. Please.” Jamie didn’t understand him. “The phone? You mean the phone? No. No, I’ll answer it.” Robert said nothing, but reached out and took hold of the phone on the table. Handing it to Jamie, he stood, replaced the chair and walked over to gaze out the window. “Yeah?” Jamie said into the receiver. “Jamie? It’s me…Lucy. I need to talk to you.” “Lucy?” He blinked. He’d all but forgotten she even existed. His heart started beating double-time again and he glanced at his watch. “It’s so early.” 281

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“I know. I’m sorry, but I just wanted to see if you were up.” “Yes,” he said, gazing at Robert’s back in silhouette against the morning light. “Yes, I am. Look, it’s not really a good time.” “Why not? What’s wrong?” Jamie so much wanted to say that he didn’t want to talk now because he’d just made love with an old family friend and it had been the best thing that had ever happened in his entire life. But he didn’t say that. Instead, he said another kind of truth. “It’s my father. He’s been taken to hospital.” There was a pause and a muffled gasp. For a moment, he felt as if she wasn’t there at all. “Lucy? Hello?” he said, turning away from the window. “Are you still there?” “Yes, of course I am,” she said. “But tell me about Mr. Chadwick. What’s happened?” He told her. “Oh, God,” she said when he’d finished. “I’m so sorry. I’ll come over. You’ll want someone with you. I can go via the hospital if you like and get the latest news.” “That’s kind of you,” Jamie said, breathing into the phone, not wanting Robert to hear, “but please, there’s no need. I’m fine by myself. Really, I am. I’ll go to the hospital later.” “No, you shouldn’t be alone at a time like this,” she insisted. “I’ll see you in half an hour.” He opened his mouth to say Robert was here with him, and he wasn’t alone, but again the words wouldn’t come. She rang off, and he put the phone down. There was a silence. “It’s Lucy and she’s coming ’round now. I didn’t say you were here,” he said. “So I gather. I’d better go then, Jamie. Lucy will give you 282

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better advice than I could. And I…I don’t want to be here when she arrives.” He turned to leave. It didn’t feel real. “Stay,” Jamie said. “Please.” “No.” “Why not?” He stepped back from Robert, feeling his stomach twist. “No one need know what’s happened between us. We don’t have to tell anyone, do we? We can do it again, can’t we? It can be our secret. Like before, but better than before.” Robert sighed and closed his eyes for a second or two. “Jamie, listen to me. You’re not ready for any of this, are you? When Lucy gets here, she’ll take one look at us and know exactly what we’ve done together. It’ll be obvious to her. Can you deal with that? Really? I’m not even touching on the subject of whether or not Lucy is actually your girlfriend. Because admitting you’re gay is a big step. I should know that.” “I’m not gay.” “For God’s sake, can’t you see what you are? There’s nothing wrong with it, Jamie. Why can’t you stop lying to yourself?” “I’m not lying, I swear it. ” “Like hell you’re not.” This time, Robert shouted at him, his mouth spitting out the words like a bad taste. For a moment, Jamie didn’t know what Robert might do, but then the other man shut his eyes and took a shuddering breath. “You’ll have to make your mind up sometime,” he went on, and even Jamie could tell how much he was holding back. “When—if— you’re ever prepared to be who you really are and, if I’m lucky, you include me in that, too, then you call me. But I can’t—I won’t— be in a relationship of any sort with a man who hasn’t the balls to acknowledge me in public.” 283

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He paused and looked Jamie full in the face. “God, I’ve said too much and it’s not the moment, is it? I’m sorry. It’s my bad timing. Appallingly bad. I think it’s best that I go. But whatever the hell is going on between the two of us, please believe I’m sorry about your father.” With that, he was gone. After a few moments, Jamie heard the sound of his car starting up and then disappearing into the distance. “I’m not gay,” he whispered to no one. “It’s just you, Robert. It’s just you.” *

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“I came as soon as I could. Are you all right?” To Jamie’s surprise, Lucy had taken him in her arms the moment he’d opened the door. The smell of her hair and the feel of her skin were like an oasis in a desert. She wasn’t Robert, but he could have held her forever. “Sure, I’m fine,” he lied, his voice muffled against her neck. “Glad to hear it. And your father will be, too,” she said, pulling away to make her point clear. “They’re doing the best they can at the hospital. The tests are very comprehensive.” “Yes. They said.” “He’ll be fine. I promise. You look awful, though. Have you managed to get some rest?” He couldn’t even begin to answer that. “Some. I can’t sleep now, though. I’ll have to go back to the hospital in a couple of hours.” “So we’ve got time,” she said. “What for?” he said. She sighed, seemed to make her mind up about something, 284

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framed his face with her hands and kissed him lightly. Her lips felt wrong against his. “What do you think?” she said. Jamie led her into the living room, ignoring her look of confusion. He couldn’t even begin to think about taking her to the bedroom right now. But this would be good, wouldn’t it? He suddenly felt desperate for something normal, something from the life he thought he’d had up until last night. He wanted to be himself again. He pulled her down onto the sofa and kissed her before reaching out and beginning to undo the top button of her blouse. She pushed against him and murmured his name. That, more than anything, brought him up short. She wasn’t Robert. She simply wasn’t him. Jamie stopped what he was doing, his mind in freefall. He drew away, holding her hands in his so she couldn’t touch him. Then he leant his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. “I’m sorry, Lucy,” he whispered. “I can’t do it. Thank you, but I just can’t.” For a long moment, she said nothing. Finally she shook herself and stood up. “Yes, of course. I’m being stupid. You’ve got a thousand things on your mind apart from this. I’m not thinking properly.” The relief that poured through him that he wasn’t going to have sex with Lucy after all was overwhelming. It made him blink. He tried to focus on her, remembering their earlier conversation. “That’s all right. Let’s forget it. Anyway, was there something else you wanted to talk to me about earlier on? On the phone?” “Nothing. Don’t worry about it now.” She frowned, doing up 285

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her button and smoothing her hair. “It’ll wait. Go and get some sleep. You look as if you need it.” He did. When he woke up, Lucy had gone, and it was time to see his father.

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CHAPTER 21 How he hated hospitals, but who didn’t? All those miles of bleak, disinfected corridors, all that faceless care and bustling efficiency, and most of all, the overriding sense of doom. Jamie didn’t see why anyone would ever want to spend any time in a hospital at all. It was like a prison with beds. In fact, the only good thing that could be said about being here at the moment was that soon he would know exactly how his father was. And, therefore, what he might need to do. At least he hoped he would. However, the moment Jamie walked into Lexden Ward, a special unit for old people, he was made to feel like the criminal he had so nearly become. “Where have you been? When am I coming home?” He placed some grapes, newspapers and a small case of items 287

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the hospital had told him his father might need on the cabinet next to the bed. “I don’t know, Dad. I’ll try and find out.” His father stared at the case. “What’s that? I don’t want that. I’m not staying here. I’m going home. With you.” “You can’t right now.” Jamie sat down and tried to smile. “You have to have tests first. The doctors say—” “Doctors. What do they know?” “I—” “They don’t know anything, really they don’t. I don’t know why they can’t just let me out. I’m not ill.” “Dad, you don’t have to shout at me. We’re not at home now.” Jamie had raised his voice to try to overpower his father’s and it worked. His dad shut up, gave him a hurt look and sniffed. When Jamie turned around, all eyes in the ward were on him, and not with the glow of compassion either. It was like Hitchcock’s The Birds, but with old folks. He wouldn’t have liked to come up against this lot on a dark night in the Dedham Vale. “I don’t know why I’m not at home,” Dad said. “I wouldn’t be stuck in here if Mark were in the country, really I wouldn’t. You just want to be rid of me. I know you do. I know what you were thinking before Robert came and the ambulance arrived and I know what you tried to do. Don’t look so innocent because I know. You’re an unnatural son, you are. Unnatural. I don’t want to talk to you.” The fact he was right didn’t make his words any easier to take. Jamie wondered if the day could get any worse. “There’s no need to worry then,” he said, “because you won’t have to put up with just me for much longer. I’ve rung Mark. He’s flying over here to see you as soon as he can and then, if you want, you won’t ever have to talk to me again.” 288

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With that, Jamie got up, patted his father’s arm while he flinched away, and walked, without a backward glance, along the bleached corridor and out into the bracing air. It was the only thing he could think of to do. *

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By the time Mark arrived that evening, it was too late to visit again and he was way too jet-lagged for conversation or arguing. So Jamie made him cheese on toast and opened a couple of beers, and Mark was in bed and asleep by ten. That was just about their limit of brotherly affection for one day. What with one thing and another, Jamie didn’t sleep well and was up at six, busy in the office catching up with the outstanding work of the last couple of days. It took his mind off everything else. The answering machine was buzzing with messages he needed to handle, but he’d have to leave them till later. He couldn’t think about complex things. Not now. Instead, he tried to concentrate on the accounts basics, blessing the now absent Nick for the new and much improved system, and the email. In fact, after a while, he was so involved in what he was doing that he didn’t hear Mark come in until he tapped him on the shoulder. “What the… Oh, it’s you. I wasn’t expecting you to be up so soon.” “Thanks, little brother. Nice greeting. What are you doing?” He stared at the screen and then started flicking through some of Jamie’s paper files. The ones he’d just been working on. “Hey, don’t. I’ve just managed to sort those out.” “Sorry.” Mark dropped the documents and backed off, his hands raised in a gesture of appeasement. “Just interested, that’s 289

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all.” Jamie snorted, not believing one word of it. Mark had never asked about his business before. Not really. Then again, he didn’t ask about his half-brother’s either. Tit for tat, he supposed. Now Mark turned away and shrugged. “Never mind all that. When can we go and see Dad?” Jamie recited the standard visiting hours, which was basically any time, and Mark grinned. “Great. So we could go up as soon as we’ve got breakfast over with. See how the old bugger’s getting on.” Jamie had never heard Mark refer to their father in that way and he almost choked. “What’s up with you? Swallowed a fishbone?” “No, I’m fine.” Jamie waved away his apparent concern and powered down the computer. “I’ll get breakfast.” “I’ll give you a hand. You look as if you need it.” At the hospital, they had trouble locating their father in his bed due to the growing collection of cards and flowers draped over every conceivable space in his vicinity. When Dad saw his elder son, his eyes lit up and he stretched out his hands. “Mark! You’re here. At last.” Mark and he hugged each other while Jamie loitered behind. He didn’t want to interfere in the joyful family reunion. Instead, he gazed round the ward and then fetched a couple of chairs. Mark sat nearest to Dad. Heads together, their profiles were identical. “So how’s the old soldier doing?” “I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong with me and I just want to go home.” “The doctors are doing tests first, Jamie tells me. We’ll have to wait for them, won’t we?” 290

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Their father dismissed the question with a shaky wave of the hand. Jamie offered him one of the grapes he’d bought, but his father refused so he ate it himself. “Yes, that’s right. You’ll have to stay here till they’re finished.” “But when will that be?” Dad wailed. “I don’t know. Why don’t you think of it as a holiday? You’ll be glad to get away from me anyway.” Mark looked shocked. “Jamie, that’s not true.” “It is. I…” But he couldn’t explain it. What could he say? But he was sure his father would fill Mark in the moment he had the opportunity. There was nothing Jamie could do to stop it either. “He wants me to stay here, Mark,” the older man went on, his voice carrying a rising note of panic. “He doesn’t want me at home. Don’t let him keep me here. You’ll help me, won’t you? You’re a good boy, Mark. You’ll look after me. I can trust you. Not like Jamie here.” God, that hadn’t taken long. Best get it over with, so he’d leave them to it. So Jamie sprang up, taking the chair with him and placing it back where he’d found it. “Okay. Don’t worry, Dad. I’m off now. You can tell Mark how dreadful I am and I’ll come back when you’re done. If I’m allowed.” Ignoring Mark’s curious glance, he walked off. Outside the ward, the place was filled with nurses, porters and anxious-eyed doctors, all with somewhere definite to go. Jamie didn’t envy them. It must be a bloody hard job. For a while, he wandered around, looking at the posters inciting him to greater health and at the small collection of artwork near the café. It didn’t inspire him to stay, so, after half an hour, Jamie went back to see what his family had decided about him. When he arrived, Mark looked up and smiled. That shook him. 291

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Jamie had thought he’d be raving after what he must have heard. His dad was asleep, though, snoring gently and looking more peaceful than he’d seen him for a long time. “What did he tell you?” Jamie asked, his voice seeming higherpitched than usual to his ears. “What? Nothing much. Just that you’d shouted at him the night the ambulance came and how he didn’t want you to. Phone the ambulance, that is. Plus some weird story about you wanting to smother him with a pillow, too, but he’s obviously confused. Mind you, the amount of pressure he must put you under, I’m not surprised. In your position, I might’ve been tempted to do the same. Never mind…no doubt he gave as good as he got. God, you two are so alike sometimes, it’s unbelievable.” Alike? No way. Jamie was categorically and absolutely nothing like his father. In any fashion. But now wasn’t the time to argue that case. Not when something else needed to be said. “He was right,” Jamie whispered, unable to look his halfbrother in the eye. “I did want to pick up the pillow. I did think about it. And then I think I frightened myself, so I rang Robert.” The mention of Robert made another kind of heat flare up on his skin, and Mark stared at him. The silence went on and on, and Jamie wondered if his half-brother would ever talk to him again after such a confession. “Look, I’m sorry,” Jamie said at last. “Do you want me to go?” Mark shook his head. “No. Honestly, you always were a total tosser, but I’m glad you didn’t kill him. The ruddy village would never have let us live that down. And can you imagine what Mary would have said?” No, he couldn’t. Not if he spent his whole life trying. His half-brother smiled and thumped him on the arm. “Look, 292

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just forget it. We all have moments when things go haywire. No point losing any sleep over it. Dad’s still breathing, isn’t he? But is there any chance of talking to one of the doctors around here? See what exactly is going on?” The ward sister’s explanation was cagey, and they made their way home, none the wiser, but in Jamie’s case, at least, a little lighter of heart. They didn’t get any answers until four days later. By which time his father had received more visitors than he’d had in the last five years, including Lucy and David, Mary, Nick, Carina and John. And, of course, Robert. Jamie wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He concentrated instead on how his father was beginning to enjoy the attention. Finally, the hospital finished their tests, and Mark and he did the rounds of the specialists, each of whom came up with a different conclusion. In the end, it was Lucy who sat them both down in one of the smaller canteens, bought a tray of strong tea, which they drank, and bourbons, which they left on the paper plate, and told them the truth. “It’s like this,” she said. “Your father’s had a bad attack of arthritis, and the tests the hospital have done show it’s worsened since last year. We can’t reverse the process, but we think stronger medication will help manage the pain. We have to work out which combination is best. There are various options to try.” “And then he can go home?” Mark asked her, with only a swift glance at Jamie. Lucy hesitated. “Yes, that’s one possibility. But…” “But?” “But we have to acknowledge the extent of the disease. I’ve spoken to Social Services and—” “What do you mean?” Jamie interrupted her. 293

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“I’ve had a chat with them because…” “No, not that. What did you mean about Dad coming home being one possibility? It’s the only possibility, isn’t it? Really, I don’t want him to suffer just because I—” “Jamie, don’t be silly—” Mark cut in, but Jamie interrupted him in return. “Tell me what you mean,” he said quietly, realizing there was no point carrying on with where his sentence had been taking him. He’d already confessed his sins to Robert and Mark. Lucy didn’t need to know it, too. After a slight pause, she continued, “You’ve been looking after your father for ages and, as I’m sure you know, it’s hard work. And you’ve got a business to run as well, and a life to lead. You might want to consider a recuperation home for him, if only for a while, and if he agrees. It doesn’t have to be forever. You can have a break, and the both of you—Mr. Chadwick and you, that is—can decide on the way forward. If Mark is happy with that as well, that is.” When Jamie looked at Mark, he nodded. He could see it made sense, but it still felt like a big step. Another one he was being asked to take. With rather more success than the last, he hoped. In the meantime, Lucy continued. “Social Services also talked about care options at home. If the two of you decide on that path. We can think about that later. Under those circumstances, and without looking in depth at your father’s situation, both they and I thought that alterations would have to be carried out. They’d only take about four or five weeks to complete.” “Alterations? To the house? What sort of alterations?” “Minor ones only,” Lucy was quick to reassure him. “It’s not large-scale at all.” 294

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“Give me some examples,” he prompted her. “Mr. Chadwick would find a stair-lift useful, though he may not always need it. And while I think of it, walking sticks can be very helpful, too.” “Stair-lifts? Walking sticks? He’s not an invalid,” Mark grumbled. “He’ll be fine once he’s on the right medicine.” “Jamie,” she said, ignoring his half-brother and addressing her remarks to him only, “I’m not saying this should be done. I’m saying it could be done. I know it’s difficult, but please believe I’m trying to help.” “Yes, I know and I’m grateful,” he said at once. “So, when my father comes home, what else would need changing?” “Knowing your house as I do, a ramp into the kitchen will be needed. As would a raised toilet seat.” “A ramp? What for?” “A wheelchair, Jamie.” Mark spoke without looking at him. “One of the specialists said he’d need it.” “On occasions,” Lucy added. “Not all the time.” There was a silence and, sighing, Lucy closed the notebook she’d been referring to with a determined thwack. “Look, I know it’s a lot to think about now, but this sort of help should make your life a whole lot easier, if you just let it for once.” Easier. That sounded like a good word to Jamie. Right now, he definitely needed easier. “Four to five weeks, you say? Initially?” he asked, and Lucy nodded. “Dad goes into a home for that amount of time, and we both get a break. Then he comes back. Though God knows he might decide he prefers being away from me. And who could blame him, eh?” Before anyone could answer that, Jamie scraped his chair back 295

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from the table and marched over to the window. For a few moments, he stared out at the concrete car park and the sprinkling of people milling around the ticket machine. Funny how everything seemed to be changing so fast and sometimes it felt as he could barely keep up. Making the decision, he turned round and walked back to where Lucy and Mark were still waiting. “Yes,” he said. “It sounds like a good plan. Let’s do it.” *

*

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In the end, however, it was true what they said about the bestlaid plans. In spite of stressing that it was, of course, only for a short time, Dad’s reaction was as strongly against as Jamie’s had been for. He refused. Point-blank. In fact, they reached an impasse in so short a time that Jamie couldn’t help being impressed. He wished he had half his father’s obstinacy. Maybe it was something he would grow into. When he’d run out of ammunition, Jamie went home, trailing with him some of the people who’d tried to help. Lucy called a conference. He couldn’t see how that would solve anything, but imagined it was what the health service did in times of crisis. This gathering of unlikely allies consisted of Lucy, Jamie, Robert and Mark, who’d invited Robert in the first place. Jamie knew he should be the one to get this conversation going, but Robert’s presence seemed to be taking away his ability to speak. Everyone sat down and then looked towards him expectantly. Still no inspiration came to him. Did it ever? To break the apparent impasse, Jamie got up and opened the patio windows, letting in the scent of roses from the garden. He breathed it in. Deeply. Then he turned round. 296

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“Anyone got any more ideas?” he said, hoping someone might be able to wave the magic wand that might change his father’s mind. Another silence. Broken only by Lucy, who laid her hand on his arm. “The way I see it is this,” she said. “You, Jamie, want your father to go into a home on a short-term basis, and he doesn’t want to. If he doesn’t, it’s going to be difficult here until he gets stronger, and the burden of care would fall on you, although as I’ve said before, support is available. Perhaps the best thing to do is research the type of homes that exist in this area. I can help you with that. It could help your father see what he might be missing out on, and he might begin to think differently.” Jamie gave her an awkward hug, finding himself not able to say very much at all at that point. “That seems sensible,” Robert agreed. “What do you say, Mark?” “I don’t know,” Mark said, bringing his glass down on the table with such a bang that it made Lucy flinch. “I appreciate I don’t live here and Jamie’s been under a lot of pressure, but he’s my father, too. This is his home and if he doesn’t want to be farmed off away from it, maybe we ought to accept his views. And not ferret about looking for ways to change them.” “I am not ferreting about trying to get rid of Dad,” Jamie countered, shaking off Lucy’s restraining hand. “I’m simply trying to make the best of a bad situation, and if you can’t see that, then I…I…” But there was no way he could carry on, no way he could say anything in his own defense. Not any more. The silence seemed to continue with no respite for a long time, but it could only have 297

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been a matter of seconds. “Hmm. I know you Chadwicks can be an argumentative family,” Robert said, “but we do need to make decisions calmly, if we can.” Everyone nodded, even Mark. “Sorry.” His half-brother shrugged. Robert took up the baton. “All right. I suggest Jamie and Lucy look into the homes in this area, get a feel for what’s around, then we can all think again. Agreed?” Jamie smiled briefly at Robert. Understandably, he didn’t smile back, and he felt Lucy grip his arm. “Let’s get going,” she said. *

*

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After he’d seen the first five residential homes for old people, sorry, mature citizens, they tended to merge into one. The homes, that is, not the citizens. Though, maybe on second thoughts, they both did. There were only so many white-haired, wrinkled, smiling old ladies smelling of lavender a man could take in. Wherever he was, he came away with a general impression of green meadow on the approach road with perhaps a pond, a patio and a secluded garden. Inside, there was always a charming receptionist sitting in a bright yellow office who took him to the home director, whom he must never call matron. She would give him weak tea and chat about independent living, the care of the individual and the vital importance of quality and standards. He would then be given a tour of the gardens, always well kept and colorful, the bedrooms—en-suite on the whole—and the public areas, warm and tidy, and, for the most part, painted in 298

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magnolia, with prints of young women drifting around in Edwardian wear. All very tasteful. Not that he’d expected a workhouse mentality with old people being forced to toil from dawn to dusk with only a few crusts of stale bread to keep them going, of course, but looking at what the old people got for their money, Jamie half wished he could live in a home instead of his father. He couldn’t have chosen among any of them. It was Lucy who made notes about each particular place, as they sat in the car afterwards, enjoying the warmth of the sun on their faces. It was Lucy who made the arrangements for seeing the next one, who set aside the time to listen to what Jamie thought and to give her professional opinion. All more than useful when he hadn’t the first idea as to what to look for and, besides, had other equally important matters to deal with. A father to visit, for one. And to persuade. “You’re still trying to get rid of me, you are,” was the first thing his father said, resplendent in his hospital bed, when Mark and he visited with the shortlisted brochures for him. “I’m not doing it. I’m going back home, no matter what you think, if it’s the last thing I do.” “Now, come on, Dad,” Mark said, as Jamie laid out the papers on the bedside table. “Don’t be like that. It does no harm to look.” To Jamie’s surprise, Dad snapped back, “Don’t tell me what to think, Mark. I’m your father.” Mark blinked, and Jamie couldn’t help but smile. It made a nice change not to be the one in trouble for once. “Yes, I know, but—” “Don’t ‘but’ me. I realize you two ungrateful boys want to farm me out somewhere, but I don’t care how short a time it’s for, I’m 299

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not giving in. I’m not, I’m not.” His voice rose in a piercing wail, drawing the close scrutiny of the patients in the adjacent beds and two passing nurses. Mark reddened, but Jamie was more used to this sort of behavior. “And neither are we,” Jamie said, perching on the edge of the bed and opening up the first of the brochures. The one for a home called Maytrees. “And I’m not being harsh. This is for your own good, Dad, though I know you don’t see it like that. You can’t come home because the house is being altered. When it is, it’ll be easier for you.” “Jamie, I…” Mark began to say, but shut up when he realized their father had already subsided. For a few moments, Jamie held his breath to see what his father would do or say next. Staring at him, Dad said nothing, but picked up “Maytrees: an Ideal Home” and began flicking through it. “There, you see,” Jamie said. “It’s not so bad, is it? Quite like the look of it, myself. That’s our favorite one so far. And if you…” “Please,” his father whispered, and, to Jamie’s distress, a lone tear rolled down his face. “Please don’t make me go there.” “Come on, Dad,” he began to reply, his weapons of defense armed and ready, but nowhere near as ready as he’d hoped. Because if his father was going to cry, then he’d already won. Jamie just didn’t have the heart for battle of any kind any more. Especially not one where his father wasn’t shouting. Seizing this advantage, Dad produced another tear. “Don’t make me go away, don’t make me. You understand, don’t you, Mark? You tell Jamie what he ought to do. You tell him.” This is it, Jamie thought. This was when all the other members of his family, such as it was, were ranged against him. Mark had been of two minds about this course of action in the first place. 300

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He’d made that abundantly clear. He would definitely be on his father’s side now. His half-brother opened his mouth to speak, and Jamie waited for the inevitable. “Yes,” Mark said, “I’ll tell him. I think he ought to do what he feels he can cope with. And only that.” Jamie’s head shot up and he blinked at these words. His father did the same. “And another thing,” Mark carried on, “is you’re not thinking this through, Dad. You’re being selfish.” “Selfish?” Their father spoke as if he’d unwrapped a present and found only a bomb inside. “Yes, selfish. I mean, I don’t know all of it. I’m not here that often. But it strikes me that Jamie’s the one who’s looked after you for nearly three years non-stop now. He’s the one who’s bent over backwards to make sure you get the best treatment and the best quality of life. Right now, in case it’s escaped your notice, he’s also the one who looks as if the slightest breeze wafting through that window would be more than enough to knock him down. Permanently.” Mark finished speaking and waved one hand in Jamie’s direction. Dad looked at him, too. No, he really looked, as if for the first time in a long time and he wanted to make sure he remembered what he saw. Jamie didn’t know what to do and was about to say something, anything, to break the strangeness of it all when his father harrumphed, sighed and said, “I’d better look through these brochures then, hadn’t I? If you think it’s right, Mark.”

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CHAPTER 22 “It’s a lovely place, don’t you think, Dad?” Mark said, getting out of the car and taking a moment to admire his surroundings. They were in the car park in the space marked Visitors and Tradesmen. Ahead of them was the tall, red brick Victorian-style building of the home they’d finally decided upon—Maytrees. It was almost a month after Jamie’s father had been admitted to the hospital and they were at last getting his life in order. And Jamie’s, too. Today they had the help of Robert and Mark, Jamie’s highly unlikely supporters. Lucy was busy with a patient. It was the moment he’d been working toward, the one they’d all been working toward. So how come, apart from Robert’s always devastating presence, something in his head felt so out of sync? Just what else was wrong with him? 302

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“Yes, it’s very nice,” his father agreed, but made no move to open his door. Not that there was any point to his doing so since his wheelchair was still in the boot. “I wonder where the may trees are?” Robert asked. “What?” Jamie sprang out of the car and went around to the rear to unpack his father’s luggage. “The may trees. I didn’t see any.” “On either side of the drive as we came in.” “Sorry. I stand corrected. I’d forgotten your country upbringing, Jamie.” Jamie grimaced and briefly caught Robert’s eye. He found his heart beating erratically. This must have been the first real direct conversation Robert had had with him that didn’t involve Dad since the night they’d made love. The night Jamie had almost killed his father. It felt good, different, to have Robert talking to him again, even if it was only to tease him. Because both of them knew perfectly well that Jamie wouldn’t have known a may tree if it had leapt in front of him and waved its branches in his face. He was simply winging it. Robert smiled, then looked away again. After another moment, Jamie got on with what he’d been doing and, without saying another word, Robert began to help him. In the meantime, Mark bounded up the stone staircase to the grand front entrance and gave the bell a firm push. After a few moments, the door swung open and a small woman with grey lacquered hair and eyes as bright as a sparrow’s appeared in the gap. Mrs. Cartwright, the home’s director, had spotted them. “Welcome to Maytrees, Mr. Chadwick. It’s so lovely to see you here,” she cried, advancing down the stairs with open arms. She had about her something of the glamour of 1930s’ Hollywood 303

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films. “Come in, please,” she went on, flinging open Jamie’s father’s door and grasping him with both hands as if he might make a bid for freedom. “It’s lovely to see you again. Can I help you at all?” “No, I don’t need any help,” Dad started to protest, but any objections were swept away by the tide of enthusiasm raging round their ears. Within a matter of minutes, this dynamo of organization had helped her newest prisoner into his wheelchair and pushed him up the ramp, kitted the rest of them out with assorted baggage and marshaled them like schoolboys into an orderly row in the front hall. “Now, Mr. Chadwick,” she said, putting the brake down on the chair, “let’s get you signed in. Then we’ll go for a quick spin to say hello to our other guests and you can settle yourself into your room.” She disappeared into the depths of an office marked “Private,” and Mark stared after her. “She’s certainly efficient,” he said. “Friendly, too. Isn’t she, Dad?” Their father said nothing and continued to gaze straight ahead, but without appearing to focus on anything. He’d already met Mrs. Cartwright and had said he liked her. Jamie hoped he hadn’t changed his mind now. Leaving Dad with Mark for a few moments, he paced his way around the outskirts of the hall, which, although not large, was warm and painted in a welcoming peach color. A few comfortable chairs sat around a table in one corner next to a display of magazines in a stand on the wall. Not unpleasant. He didn’t think much of the artwork though, which wasn’t even 304

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half as good as his own beloved Japanese prints, but what else could he expect in this sort of place? “She’s rather scary.” The sound of Robert’s voice made Jamie jump and he swung around. “Don’t you think?” “I like her,” Jamie replied, still feeling the wild pace of his heart. Robert was close. Closer than he’d anticipated he’d be. “She’ll do.” “I’m sure. With someone like that around, your father will probably live forever. She doesn’t look like she gives the grim reaper much leeway.” Before Jamie could reply, Mrs. Cartwright reappeared in the foyer like a determined fairy godmother. “Right then, everybody.” She clapped her hands and smiled. “I’ve asked for tea in Mr. Chadwick’s room. I hope that suits you all. And while it’s brewing, what about meeting some of our people in the living area?” They all nodded their agreement. Except Robert, who showed no reaction whatsoever, but fell into step beside them. Wheeling Dad along the hallway, Mrs. Cartwright headed toward the open and sunny living room and swept into it as if she were Boadicea intent on freeing her race. Inside, old people, flanked here and there by what Jamie imagined were visiting family or nurses in mufti, were sitting in ones and twos, watching television, knitting, or gazing out through the French doors at the long expanse of lawn. They’d all seen it before, apart from Robert, who walked over to the window and leant on the ledge, next to a vase of cream and pink roses. “Nice gardens you’ve got here,” he said. “Yes, indeed, we’re very proud of them,” Mrs. Cartwright replied. “Our gardener works wonders. We all love it, don’t we?” 305

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With that, she turned around, faced the silent crowd and coughed to get their interest. Not that it was necessary; everyone was looking at her anyway. “Now then, everybody, pay attention, please,” she said. “We have a new guest with us from today. For a short period of time in the first instance. Everyone, this is Mr. Chadwick. Mr. Chadwick, this is everyone. I’ll introduce you properly later.” She waved a well-manicured hand at the appropriate points and there was the sound of murmuring, and several nods and smiles. Dad said nothing, but looked down at his own hands twisted together in his lap. It was the first time Jamie had had a chance to get a really close look at the sort of people who lived in a place like this. In all the trips Lucy, Mark and he had made, they’d been shown around bedrooms, kitchen areas, bathrooms and living rooms. All neat and clean and smelling of lavender. They’d seen nursing staff, doctors, receptionists and kitchen staff. All efficient, keen and welcoming. Everything had seemed perfect, with every whim catered for and every sickness cured. Except death, of course. But he’d never thought of looking for more than a passing impression at the actual residents—sorry, guests. He did so now. There was nothing wrong with any of the people there this morning. Not physically. The old women were dressed in bright summer dresses, with their hair neatly combed, and the one or two men in their midst seemed happy enough. There was just something about them. Something not quite right about the eyes. They looked set in for the duration, as if they’d all been here for several lifetimes and had several more left to run. “Mr. Chadwick? Mr. Chadwick?” Mrs. Cartwright was nudging his arm and smiling straight into his face. “Good, you are 306

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here with us then. I thought we’d lost you.” “My brother’s in a world of his own most of the time. You get used to it.” “Half-brother,” Jamie muttered from habit and intercepted one of Robert’s looks. Even the fact that he’d bothered to react at all made Jamie feel suddenly lighter somehow. Not hearing Jamie’s response, the home director laughed and patted Dad’s shoulder. “Oh, dear, does it run in the family then? Never mind, it’s early days; you’ll soon be settled in, Mr. Chadwick Senior, just you wait and see, and then you won’t want to leave. I’m sure of it. Let me take you to your room. The tea should be there now.” As they walked—or rode—at racing speed through the corridors smelling of disinfectant and air freshener, it occurred to Jamie for the first time that he might have made a mistake. His father’s room was in the front of the house, facing the small rose garden Robert had noticed earlier. Mrs. Cartwright gave them a quick tour of the facilities and then flung open the window with a smile. “Well, then, I’ll leave you for twenty minutes or so to settle in,” she said. “Do then come down to the living room, and we can say goodbye to your family. Though I’m sure they’ll be back to visit soon.” When the home director vanished to do whatever it was home directors did, Mark squatted down next to the wheelchair. “Come on, Dad. Don’t give us the silent treatment. It doesn’t suit you and, besides, you’ll love it here. There are lots of people your age to talk to and you’ll be well looked after. We’ve discussed this; you agreed and you know it’s the best thing.” “And your room’s very pleasant,” Robert added. “It’s not a 307

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prison, Mr. Chadwick.” “That’s right,” Mark said. “I wasn’t convinced about this at first. Not at all. But now I’ve seen it, I think Jamie’s right. For once. You won’t find better than this. Trust me.” Mark got up, lifted a couple of the cases onto the bed and began to unpack, putting away socks, handkerchiefs and vests into the top drawer of the chest by the window. Unable to move, Jamie watched him, as if from a great distance. “This okay, Dad?” Mark asked, and their father nodded, despite looking as miserable as a wet day in Ipswich. Jamie felt much the same way himself. Robert began to pour the tea and offered around biscuits. Jamie shook his head, stared out of the window and tried to think. After a couple of minutes, Mark said, “Stop day-dreaming, will you, little brother? Give me a hand with these shirts.” And then it came to him. Jamie turned to face them. “No,” he said. “No?” Mark spun round and glared at him. “What do you mean ‘no’?” If he’d been in the mood, Jamie would have laughed. He couldn’t believe in his half-brother’s anger when he was holding up two Y-fronts and a nailbrush. “I mean no.” He nodded towards where his father sat, cocooned in his unhappiness. “We’re taking him home.” Dad’s head jerked up and, for the first time that day, Jamie could see the glimmer of hope in his eyes. “What on earth are you talking about now?” Mark said. “You’ve convinced us all that this is the only option, we’ve come all the way here, gone through all these arrangements with Mrs. 308

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Cartwright and now you’re changing your mind? That’s typical you, you know. You—” “Shut up, Mark,” Robert intervened, before things could get out of hand. “Give your father some more tea. And you, Jamie, come outside.” He followed Robert into the corridor and watched him take several deep breaths. “What are you doing?” he said. “If you’re playing some kind of a game again, I think you need to know this isn’t the time.” Jamie flinched. “I’m not. I…I…” “What?” “I can’t do it.” “Why not? You’ve been all for putting your father in a home before. What’s changed?” “It’s their eyes,” he said. “Sorry?” “Their eyes. Don’t you see?” Jamie began to pace five steps away from Robert and five steps back. “There’s nothing wrong with Maytrees, not in itself. Lucy’s right; Dad will be given the best care here and the surroundings are nice enough, but it’s not that. It’s the people. Yes, I know they’re healthy and have everything they could want, but didn’t you notice their eyes? They’re dead…there’s nothing there. No hope, no interest, no nothing. I know sometimes my father and I don’t get on, but I don’t want him to be like that. I seriously don’t. Do you understand?” He stopped pacing and glared at Robert as if he were the enemy. Robert stared back. “So,” Robert said after a tense few moments, “let me get this right. What you’re saying is that you think the residents here are 309

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happy enough, but have no spark in them, and you’d rather have your argumentative, obstinate, take-no-prisoners father living with you than a pleasant old man living away from you?” Jamie blinked. He hadn’t thought of his father quite in those terms before, but perhaps Robert was right. “Yes. Yes, I suppose that’s what I do think.” “Even after—I hesitate to say this and please believe me when I say I’m not judging you—but even after the things you’ve told me?” Robert reached out and gripped his shoulder. Jamie didn’t pull away. “Yes,” he whispered, still holding Robert’s searching gaze. “Even after those things.” “So what do you want to do?” Jamie shook his head to clear it. He thought for a moment. Then he marshaled his resources, such as they were, and walked back into his father’s room, followed by Robert. “Come on. We’re leaving,” Jamie said. “What do you mean? We’ve only just got here,” Mark protested again as behind him their father smiled and rubbed his hands. “Haven’t you talked him out of this stupidity, Robert? What on earth were you doing out there anyway?” “Helping Jamie come to a decision, which I believe he has now done.” “It’s madness. We need to think it through first. We need to work out what’s best for Dad.” “I want to go home. That’s best for me,” Dad said. “Jamie, you’re a good boy. I always knew you’d turn out right, in spite of everything.” “Okay, Dad, save the lies till later. Now we need to pack.” Jamie started opening all the drawers and the wardrobe, and throwing shirts, trousers and assorted underwear back into the still 310

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open cases. “For God’s sake, what are you doing?” Mark shouted. “We can’t go now. Not just like this. There’ll be papers to complete and arrangements to make. What about Mrs. Cartwright?” “Never mind her. We’ll sneak out and she’ll never notice us. Anyway, who cares? Just get packing.” “I think your brother has made up his mind,” Robert said, folding up the clothes Jamie had flung on the bed and placing them in ordered rows in the nearest case. “In my experience, when that happens, there’s no other option but to go along with it. Are you sure you’re all right with that, Mr. Chadwick?” They all stopped what they were doing—or in Mark’s case, not doing—and looked at Jamie’s father. He was grinning like a naughty schoolboy about to play truant. “Yes, yes, let’s go home,” he said. “Isn’t this fun?” Fun wasn’t the word Jamie had in mind, although there was something exciting about abducting an invalid man in a wheelchair along with several bulging cases, and sneaking down the corridor of an old people’s home toward the front door. They met a couple of nurses and a bemused-looking resident, but, in the face of Robert’s reassuring expression, nobody questioned them. Perhaps they hadn’t come across this sort of thing before? Jamie couldn’t imagine many people having the strength of character even to think of making a bid for escape. At the front hall and only minutes away from freedom, they hit a snag. Peering round the corner, he could see Mrs. Cartwright chatting away to a young couple, who appeared to be holding the same publicity leaflet Jamie had first been given. “What is it?” Robert whispered in his ear. “What’s going on?” Jamie told him. 311

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“No problem then. Won’t she give them the grand tour soon?” He peered round the corner again. “We’re out of luck. They’re sitting down. I think she’s ordering tea.” “What is it with nursing homes and tea? Do you think they put drugs in it or something?” “Don’t know, but I wouldn’t put it past them. What are we going to do?” “I’ve got an idea,” Robert said and pulled Jamie back around the corner to where Mark and his dad were waiting, poised for the off. Even his half-brother had the hang of the escape plan by now. “Listen, Mark, you go and head Mrs. Cartwright off at the pass. Make sure you get her out of the way.” “How?” “I don’t know. Use your imagination. Say you want to discuss your father’s medicine in more detail, anything. all right?” “All right.” “Good. While you’re doing that, Jamie and I will take your father outside and get him in the car. Give us five minutes, then come and join us. At that point, we leave.” “What about the young couple?” “Shouldn’t be an issue. How do they know what’s supposed to happen?” “God,” Jamie said, “that’s very cloak-and-dagger. Have you done this before?” Robert shrugged. “Sometimes I need to make a quick exit. Go on, Mark.” He pushed Jamie’s half-brother around the corner and into the field of battle. After a few anxious seconds, they heard Mrs. Cartwright’s welcoming boom. “Why, hello there, Mr. Chadwick. Everything all right?” 312

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Mark mumbled an answer Jamie couldn’t catch. There was a silence during which he held his breath. Then came further muffled conversation, a question—hers—a laugh—Mark’s—and at last the sound of the home director’s high heels tap-tapping across the hall in the direction of her office. Robert risked a glance round the corner. “Right,” he said. “Now.” Jamie pushed his father out into the bright sunlight filling the hall and, followed by Robert, strode with confidence toward the front door. The young couple looked up, and he smiled. “Lovely day,” Jamie said. “Yes, it is, lovely,” the man replied, giving them a curious stare. “Don’t chat. Just keep going,” Robert whispered. “This isn’t one of your conference jollies, you know.” “Shut up. I know what I’m doing,” he replied and rolled his father out into freedom. Two minutes later, they’d just installed Dad in the back seat of the car and the wheelchair in the boot when Mark came careening down the front steps of Maytrees and across the car park whirling his arms like a Catherine wheel. A determined and angry-looking Mrs. Cartwright pursued him. “Go, go, go!” he was yelling. “She saw you out of her office. I couldn’t stop her. She’s coming.” “Get in the car and start it,” Robert said, grabbing an armful of cases and flinging them in on top of the wheelchair so the whole contraption squeaked and groaned with the unexpected weight. Jamie obeyed. Turning the key once in the ignition, nothing happened. Bloody hell, great timing, he thought. The next second, Robert was beside him in the passenger seat. 313

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“Any day now would be good, Jamie.” “And what the hell do you think I’m doing?” He tried again, slamming the accelerator down onto the floor. This time, the engine roared into life, and they skidded off, leaving a cloud of gravel in their wake, just as Mark, still running, pulled open the rear door and fell into the back seat next to their father. At the same moment, Mrs. Cartwright reached her fleeing prey and thumped with both hands on top of the car as Jamie hit third gear and headed for the wide open spaces. The last he saw of her in the rear view mirror was her whitefaced figure covered in gravel dust and standing in the middle of the driveway shaking her fist at their speedy retreat. Jamie drove like a madman for two miles. Then, overcome by a wave of hysteria, he parked at the side of the road where they all spent the next five minutes helpless with laughter. That is, until his father brought them back down to reality. “I need to go to the bathroom,” he said.

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CHAPTER 23 This was a request Jamie soon had to get used to. “Is he going to be like this for long?” he asked Lucy when she’d paid her usual visit to help Dad with a scaled-down series of new exercises. Right now, his father was sleeping on the spare bed that Mark and he had lugged down into the living room to save Dad having to face the problem of stairs. “No, I don’t think so,” Lucy said, and sat at the kitchen table. “It’s only been two days since he…left the home, you know. You can’t expect miracles.” “I know, but…” “You have to give him time. Your father isn’t a well man at the moment. He needs care and attention, not a…” “Not a son like me who can’t see what’s happening right in 315

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front of him.” He finished her sentence and raised his mug at her in mock salute. Lucy was still for a second and then she said, “What do you mean?” “You know, there was me trying to sort poor Dad out and thinking a home would be the best thing, and then, faced on the day by all those rows and rows of dead eyes, I finally see I can’t do that to him. He’s not the easiest father in the world, but, when it comes down to it, the best place for him is here. I should’ve seen that before. No wonder he thinks I’m the bad son.” She smiled. “He doesn’t think that.” “Maybe not,” he said with a shrug, “but what happens now we’ve done the moonlight flit?” “It’s not a laughing matter.” “I know, but it was funny.” He snorted at the memory. “You should’ve seen Mrs. Cartwright standing in the driveway.” “Don’t talk to me about Mrs. Cartwright. I’ve spent the last day soothing her feelings and making sure she doesn’t make a complaint about you to social services.” That shut Jamie up. He hadn’t realized what he’d done would have repercussions for anyone else but his father and him. And would involve Lucy, of all people. As ever, he simply hadn’t thought it through enough. Reaching out, he put his hand on top of hers where it rested on the table. She seemed to flinch, but he might have imagined that. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think.” “Of course you didn’t.” She withdrew her hand, patted Jamie’s once and then put both her hands in her lap. “But don’t concern yourself because it’s all sorted out now.” “Yes, but—” 316

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“So let me tell you what I think you should do.” Hearing the tone of authority, Jamie shut up and let her talk. After half an hour, he’d gained an in-depth knowledge of the delights that lay ahead of him. He learned all about stair-lifts and ramps, walking sticks and regular day-care, raised toilet seats and the improvements his dad’s new cocktail of drugs might bring. He’d found out about social services and what they could provide, an essential part of the modern caregiver’s survival kit. Lucy pulled a great wad of leaflets to read and information on societies to join out of her bag. In the end, it was overwhelming, and she must have seen that in him because she smiled and swept everything up into a neat pile, then, standing up, dropped it on the work surface behind her. “Look,” she said. “This is all helpful information for you, but don’t read it all at once. Take it in slowly and do whatever you and Mark think is best for your father. And remember, things will get better; these new drugs are helpful. It’s a question of establishing a routine that suits everyone. Of course, I’ll help wherever I can.” Maybe that was Jamie’s way in to what he thought he wanted to say. Or the beginnings of it anyway. “Lucy, there’s something else I needed to say.” “Fire away, but make it quick. I’ve got to go.” “I know things haven’t been great between us recently,” he began. God, I’m no good at this personal stuff. Whatever gender he was facing. Why couldn’t someone invent a sign he could hold up with suitable words printed out in understandable language? It would be so much easier. “But I think we need to talk. Why don’t we take a few minutes now?” With one swift movement, she grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair, slipped into it and headed for the door. “Jamie, I 317

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honestly can’t do this now. We’ve both got a lot on our minds, and I’m sure we have more than enough work to do. I’ll see you later.” And then she was gone, leaving behind her a scent of apples and cinnamon. Stretching out his legs, Jamie leaned back. That had gone well, hadn’t it? Not. And what exactly would he have said anyway? Lucy, I know we’re probably not still together, but would you like to try again at any time? Oh, and I think I’m in love with Robert, but the thought of that terrifies me and, in any case, please don’t let it influence your decision? God, what kind of a mixed-up loser was he? He needed to get a grip on his own life. A serious one. In the meantime, though, Lucy was right about the workload. There was a hell of a lot to do. *

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“Yes, Ms. Randall, I quite agree. I’ll get onto it right away. Yes, I know the deadline, and everything is on schedule to be a fantastic day. The delegates will remember it for a long time to come.” Finishing the conversation, Jamie put the phone down and said, “And I hope they’ll remember it for good reasons, not bad.” “Talking to yourself, little brother?” “Mark!” He jumped. “What the hell are you doing?” His half-brother sauntered into the office as if he belonged there. “Sneaking up on you to confirm your lunacy, so I can tell tales about you to Dad. What do you think?” “Yeah, it wouldn’t surprise me,” Jamie said. “At least you’re admitting it after all these years.” “I was never that bad. You’re making it up.” 318

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He said nothing in reply, but watched Mark as he wandered round the office, picking up a file here, a CD there. Since he’d flown over, they’d slowly formed an unlikely alliance when faced with the problem of their dad, but now the lines of communication were wearing a little thin. That was the nature of families, he supposed. Maybe it would have been better if Nick were still here as he would at least have been someone from outside, which might have eased the intensity of having three Chadwicks under one roof. But, with Nick’s agreement, Jamie hadn’t renewed his contract extension. The thought of Nick brought with it the memory of Carina, and he had seen as little as possible of her since the fete. For obvious reasons. Which meant Jamie had no idea how long it would be before he or Mark would tread onto dangerous family ground and the ongoing war would start again. He continued to watch while Mark flicked through his business papers. It looked like there was something on his mind, and Jamie was just about to ask what it was when he said, “So how’s it going on the work front? Things okay?” “Yeah, sure. Busy, though.” “Good. You know, I envy you sometimes.” The whole idea was so ridiculous that Jamie laughed. “Oh, right. You envy me? That’s a good one.” “Is it?” He sat down opposite and folded his arms in a gesture that reminded Jamie uncomfortably of himself. “As it happens, I do, so don’t look so shocked. Why shouldn’t I? You’re living in this house, which I love, in a place where you know everyone and everyone knows you. Whereas, much as Allie and I love Japan, we did have to start from scratch. You can work from home without falling over yourself and you’ve got an up-and-coming business in a profession where there’s more work than you need, whereas I 319

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sometimes find myself scrabbling around for trade. You live in the country rather than in the middle of the town and, most of all, you get to see Lucy, while right now Allie is thousands of miles away. And I miss her so much. Of course, I envy you.” Jamie stared at him. “But you’re the favorite son.” “So? Why do you think I bloody well left? You know Dad; can’t you imagine the pressure?” Yes, he could, very easily, as a matter of fact. There was absolute silence while they continued to stare at each other. Then Mark began to laugh. Slowly at first, as if frightened of what might happen, and then with more confidence. Jamie joined in and soon they were howling with laughter and seemed unable to stop. When the fit of laughter ceased, everything seemed different. As if his world had been shaken up and put back in a way he couldn’t quite recognize. “Mark?” he said, knowing if there was ever a time to say anything important about his life to his brother now was it, but knowing also that his hands and his voice were shaking and he couldn’t stop either of those things. “Yeah?” “I don’t think it’s Lucy that keeps me awake at night. I think it’s Robert.” There. He’d said it. He’d said it at last. He’d never thought he actually could say any of those words and now look, here they were, out in the open. Mark blinked, seemed as if he might say something in response, but, for Jamie, the floodgates had opened. Now he couldn’t stop talking. “I think it’s always been Robert,” he said. “We had a…a fling six years ago when I started at uni. Not that we did anything, anything drastic, not then. I was too frightened. Though we did 320

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everything but. Almost. Then we had a row, he went away, and I didn’t see him for six years. I thought it was all okay. I thought I was all sorted out, but he came back and it was as if those six years had never happened. Not really. On the night Dad went into hospital, Robert was brilliant. You know that. What you don’t know is he saw me back home and I asked him to stay. We slept together. I swear it, Mark, you can’t imagine how right that felt. “Then in the morning Lucy rang, and things got confused again. We had another row and now I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t even know if I’m gay, not properly, or if it’s just Robert. I don’t really care about other men, but I think about him all the time. However, I can’t face the thought of people knowing, especially not Lucy or Dad. He’d never understand it and he’d never be able to forgive me. So, there you are, imagining all I think about is seeing Lucy when it’s something, someone, totally and utterly different.” Jamie ran out of breath. Though, in truth, he didn’t think there was anything else he could say. He hadn’t meant to say so much, and he hadn’t been able to stop it. He felt as if a vast river inside him had finally been allowed to start flowing somewhere. He just didn’t quite know where. He looked at his brother. Mark gazed back, his expression intent. He was frowning, but he didn’t seem as surprised as Jamie had thought he would be. In fact, he didn’t look surprised at all. “Damn it,” Mark said. “Allie was right, and I was wrong. How I hate it when that happens.” “What do you mean?” “Allie thought something was up with you and Robert at Christmas and New Year, even in spite of everything else going on back then, but I told her not to be ridiculous. You had a thing about 321

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Lucy, but obviously not as much of a thing as I assumed, eh?” He smiled. “Look, Jamie, I don’t really mind what it is you want to do with your life, though I might draw the line at patricide if I’m honest, just as long as you’re healthy, stay safe, and I win all our arguments. That’s what younger brothers are for, after all. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Jamie nodded, still shaking slightly and not really able to say anything in response. “Good. And if you want my opinion, which, of course, you do, what with me being older and so much wiser than you, Robert’s a good bloke and whatever happens on that front, you could do far worse.” With that, Mark reached out and gripped Jamie’s shoulder. For a moment, the two brothers remained in that position, then the phone started ringing just as, from below, a small voice quavered up the stairs, “Is something wrong? Are you all right? You’ve been a long time up there.” “Oh, God,” Jamie said, patting Mark’s hand before he let go, “it’s Dad and he’s escaped. I’d better go and sort it out.” “No. I’ll do it. You answer that call.” “Cheers,” he said, and then, as his brother got to the door, “Mark?” “Yes?” “Thank you. For listening. For everything, really. Except for that thing about you winning all the arguments, which I can tell you here and now just doesn’t happen. But don’t you think that, for Allie’s sake, it’s time you went home?” As Jamie picked up the phone, Mark nodded once and disappeared downstairs. *

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Arriving home from taking Mark to the airport, Jamie could see Mary in the living room plumping up Dad’s cushions and peering at the boxes of pills on the side table. “Don’t worry,” he called out. “I’ll do that.” “Will you, dear?” She bustled out toward him, smiling and anxious like a girl on a first date, and leaned in to whisper, “That’s so kind. I really have no idea which ones your poor father has to have first. ” “No need. That’s my job.” “All right, dear, but if I can be of any help, any help at all, I will, you know. I will.” “I know. And you are. All the time. Thank you.” Mary colored up, but Jamie pretended not to notice. “Would you like a drink?” “That’s very kind of you, dear, but perhaps I…” Her response was drowned out by Jamie’s father, who must have heard him come in. “Is that you, Jamie?” he called out. “Did Mark get off all right?” “Yes, Dad, no delays,” Jamie called back. “I’ll be with you in a minute. Mary, are you sure you wouldn’t like something?” “No, that’s fine. I’ll just …” “Tea? Coffee? Sherry?” By now they were in the kitchen, and, as he spoke, Jamie picked up the Douw Egberts and shook it to try to tempt her. She smiled. “No, dear. You see I think…” “Yes?” he said, wondering if she might like an herbal tea instead. If they had any of that poisonous brew. “You see, I think, now that dear Mark’s gone, it might be nice for you and your father to be alone for a while.” 323

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Ah. Perhaps she was right. She said a fond farewell to Dad, gave them both a stream of advice on eating well and dressing warmly, planted a peck on Jamie’s cheek at the door and was gone. And Jamie was at last alone with his father. He ought to pop his head ’round the door and check he was all right. He marched down the hallway toward the living room intent on that very purpose. However, he was deflected into the kitchen to find out if Mary might have left some washing-up to do, which he would, of course, need to finish before doing anything else. It was spotless, damn it. Which if he’d been paying attention when he’d been in here a couple of minutes ago, he would have realized. She’d even folded the tea towels and hung them over the bar on the front of the oven. “Jamie? Are you there?” He stuck his head out of the kitchen door. “Yeah, just clearing up. I’ll be with you in a minute.” Nothing to do here then. It was time to face the music. After wasting another few minutes, Jamie stood outside the room in which his father waited, preparing to face his new domestic responsibilities in full. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door. “Okay, Dad, I’m here. Why don’t we…?” He stopped. There was no need to finish. His father was stretched out in his chair, asleep and snoring softly. The afternoon sun played across his face, and Jamie could have counted every wrinkle and every grey hair. The blanket he’d been using to keep his knees warm had slipped onto the floor and his glasses were halfway down his nose. Jamie smiled. He tiptoed across the room, picked up the blanket and replaced it on his father’s lap. Then he 324

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removed Dad’s glasses and put them in their case. His father stirred, mumbling something incomprehensible, and Jamie waited to see if he’d wakened him. But after a few moments, his father’s breathing became regular again. He’d try to finish off some work in the office for half an hour or so, and then come back to see how Dad was. Maybe it was going to be okay. On his way upstairs, he made a brief detour to the bedroom, where he pulled open the table drawer and took out the paper hidden inside. He didn’t need to look at it to know what was listed there, but he did anyway. JAMIE’S HIT LIST 1. My father—Smothering. Or possibly strangling 2. Carina—Drowning. In the font if I can manage it 3. David—Stabbing 4. Mary Prentice (but only because if Dad disappeared, she’d want to know why)—Inhalation of noxious gases. Or electric shock 5. Mark—Shooting. Gazing at what he’d written when things had been at their very worst, Jamie grimaced. He must have been mad even to think about this kind of stuff. Mark was right. Jamie did live in a fantasy world. Well, maybe now it was time to move on. As best he could. Folding up the list, he struck a match and held it to one corner, watching the tiny flame flicker and blaze, growing stronger as it consumed the paper. When the fire began to burn his fingers, he dropped the paper into the metal bin and waited until it was almost nothing. That evening, while he was amusing himself by poring over brochures and builders’ estimates for stair-lifts and ramps, Robert 325

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came by. He wouldn’t come in. Instead, he stood in the doorway and shook his head when Jamie gestured him inside. “No, this isn’t a social call,” he said, looking serious. “There was something I needed to tell you. And something I needed to ask.” Jamie felt sick, but tried not to show it. “Please, ask me anything.” “I’m going back to Japan. I’ve already stayed here longer than I intended, because…because, well, you know why. I’ve done all I can, and the new staff don’t need me looking over their shoulders all the time. There’s nothing else I can do for your conference either, Jamie. It’s all set up, as far as I can see; it’ll be fine. You’re doing a tremendous job.” For a moment, Jamie couldn’t speak. The fact Robert had said nothing at all about what had happened between the two of them struck him like a blow to the stomach. He had the sense that events were rapidly spiraling out of his control and he had no experience or knowledge as to how to stop them. “Don’t you want to come in and…and say goodbye to my father?” God help him. That was all he could think of to say. His mind was utterly, indescribably blank. “Yes, I will. Of course I will,” Robert said, blinking. “But first, I need your response to what I have to ask you. Your theoretical response.” Jamie waited for him to speak. Robert didn’t look capable. Nor for that matter was he. When Robert did finally open his mouth, what came out was nothing more than a whisper. “I know you won’t, you can’t, leave your father, Jamie. But if you could, would you come with me?” 326

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For a moment, Jamie looked out beyond him at the path, snaking up in the twilight to Robert’s car parked at an angle on the curb. At the hedge and the road and the trees beyond. At all the countless other lives going about their business right now, in Limewater, in Japan, in the world. Lives without love or decisions like this on their minds. “Please, don’t ask me that,” Jamie said, barely able to speak at all. “It can’t ever be real. I can’t live in some fantasy world any more. Don’t you see? I just can’t.” When he said those words, the look on Robert’s face was devastating, and Jamie started to shake. All he could think was that what he’d said was true. He couldn’t leave his father. He might love Robert, might always have loved him, but he couldn’t imagine a time when his father would ever be able to understand that. Neither could he imagine a time when Robert would be happy to live any kind of a lie. It was impossible, another of his crazy fantasies, and had always been impossible. None of that stopped him wanting to touch Robert, but when he tried, the other man moved away. He had no idea how either of them managed to get through the next twenty minutes or so as if nothing had happened, but they did. Robert spent some time chatting to Jamie’s father before saying his goodbyes. Robert’s hands were shaking, too, and Jamie continued to feel sick to the stomach, all the time forcing his mind not to think and not to react. Then Robert left. And there it was. There was the end of it. *

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To continue to avoid thought, Jamie spent the next few days in 327

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a frenzy of activity by dealing with the alterations to the house; nailing down his father’s care routine with the nurses and his weekly trip to the day centre; and sorting through the inevitable last minute conference bookings and hitches. With only a week to go before the big conference day, the adrenaline was beginning to flow in earnest. Jamie was glad of it. When he needed it most, the sense of controlled panic stopped him going over what had happened. At least for some of the time. Still, he couldn’t help wondering if he might hear from Robert. A phone call, an email or something. Anything. But there was nothing. More than once, he picked up the phone or logged on with Robert’s email address in his head, but the words wouldn’t come. Anyway what would be the point? He had nothing different to say. Maybe when the conference was out of the way, he would talk with Robert. Somehow. He couldn’t bear the thought of another six years of silence. Not again. He couldn’t let that happen. On top of it all, there was Lucy. It felt to Jamie as if he hadn’t seen or thought of her for a lifetime, but she would need an explanation of some kind, too. But not now. He couldn’t deal with that now. In the meantime, his father fell into a routine of sleeping long into the morning, which was a godsend as it meant Jamie could cut a swathe through the workload before the demands kicked in sometime around two in the afternoon. For the first time Jamie could remember, it felt as if he was in charge in the house, no longer fighting for a voice. That realization made a difference when he helped his father to eat. It made a difference when he tied his laces. It even made a difference on those occasions when the older man couldn’t quite manage the toilet himself. But even with the help of the nurses and the kindness of Mary, who began to do a 328

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damn sight more than the cleaning, Dad had good moments and bad ones. “Why is this place such a mess?” he asked one evening in the living room while Jamie was waiting for the shift nurse to arrive and flicking through yet more work papers. His father turned off the television and pushed the remote control onto the floor. “It’s disgusting, the way you keep it.” “It’s fine, Dad,” Jamie said, his head deep in figures. “Mary only cleaned it yesterday.” His father muttered something he didn’t catch. “Sorry?” “What are you going to do about it?” Jamie put down the calculator. “I’ll give it another quick clean in a minute, even though there’s nothing wrong. Okay, the place is a bit dustier, but that’s because we’ve got the builders in.” “I don’t need them. I’m not an invalid.” “Sure you’re not. But even if you don’t like the stair-lift when it’s ready, it’ll be a lot of fun for me, I can tell you.” He grunted and there was silence for a few minutes before he said, “You wish you’d left me in that home, don’t you?” “No way,” Jamie said. “I wouldn’t have missed our great escape for the world, would you? Tell you what, why don’t we watch some TV before the cavalry arrives?” He turned the television back on, and his father sat staring at it. “When’s Mark going to ring?” “He rang last weekend. So if you like, we can call him.” “But when will he ring again?” Jamie shuffled his papers together, put them in the file and switched off the calculator. “This weekend. He said he’d ring once a week.” “I don’t remember that.” 329

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“It’s true, I promise you.” “You’re lying.” “No,” Jamie said. “I’m not. I gave up lying for Lent. Sort of. He’ll ring. Just you wait and see.” His father opened his mouth to reply, but Jamie never got the chance to hear what he might have had to say because the doorbell rang. The relief troops had arrived. And just when he needed them. Half an hour later, Jamie was leaning against the bar of The King’s Head, looking forward to the first pint of the evening with all the intensity of a very thirsty man. “Father okay?” Michael said, as he washed and dried a fresh glass, then began pulling the golden liquid into it. “Sure,” Jamie said, feeling he’d asked that question before as a conversation starter. Now when had it been? “Conference preparation going well?” “No problems, but I’ll be glad when it’s over and everything’s gone to plan. That is, if it does go to plan.” “I’m sure it will,” he said, taking the coins Jamie had put on the bar for him. “When is it? Next Tuesday?” “Hell, you know everything, don’t you? Yes, it is. Cheers.” Still unable to shake the feeling he was saying things that had been said a hundred times before, Jamie gazed around to see who was in the pub tonight and caught sight of David sitting at one of the corner tables with someone else who was hidden by the shadows. David. Now that was when he’d had a similar conversation with Michael. On the evening when David had turned up looking like a tropical parrot and had set Jamie off on this year of hell and high water he was having, though, it wasn’t David’s fault. He was nothing more or less than an innocent onlooker. Jamie shouldn’t 330

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blame him. He was debating whether to go over and join David now or drink his first pint in solitude when the person sitting opposite leant forward into the light and Jamie could see quite well who it was. It was Lucy. Jamie took a deep breath. If he could cut in on their conversation for a while, he might even be able to say a few words to her about their relationship. To be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure what he would say, but it had to be something. If he was going to try to live in the real world, he couldn’t simply ignore her, so he raised his hand to attract her attention. The movement must have caught her eye, as she looked at Jamie, but didn’t smile. David turned around and almost jumped out of his chair. Strange. His old friend had never been nervy before, had he? As Jamie started to propel himself away from the bar, Michael tapped him on the shoulder. “Were you wanting any crisps as well?” “No, thanks.” “Peanuts?” “Ditto.” “Sure?” “Yeah, of course I am.” “Because you don’t want to be drinking on an empty stomach, you know,” Michael said. “It does odd things to people.” Jamie started laughing. “For God’s sake, Michael, I hardly ever have crisps or stuff. You know that.” “Yes, but people change their minds. Happens all the time.” “Look, I might have some later if you’re flogging stuff you can’t sell, but right now, I don’t have time to chat. Lucy’s here, and I do need to have a quick word with her.” “Where?” he said, his face as calm as a stone. 331

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Jamie pointed. Michael still looked blank, so he turned round to show the barman. But the table was empty. Lucy and David had vanished. Funny. *

*

*

The next day, a Friday, Jamie needed to be in London making last minute arrangements with the conference hotel, pacing out the final fitting of the stands and nailing down the agenda with Ms. Randall, and so he missed seeing Lucy on her morning visit to work with his dad. In fact, with work, his father and trying to fit in some sleep as well, the weekend was over before he knew it and by five thirty P.M. on Monday, Jamie came to the point when there was nothing more he could do before the big day dawned. It would be useless to work on any of the smaller projects; he needed to keep his thoughts away from anything else, including Robert, and fixed on the main job at hand. That way, nothing could go wrong. Perhaps, it was time to bring things to a proper end with Lucy on her home ground, whatever that might mean. So Jamie waited for the relief nurse, left his father asleep in the living room and drove into Colchester. He parked at the end of Lucy’s road. Heart jittering in his chest, but knowing it was definitely the right thing to do, he knocked at her front door. When it opened, David was standing in the hallway holding a bottle of beer in one hand. He was wearing a dressing gown. The moment he saw Jamie, David’s face turned pale and he took several steps back. Jamie blinked. Various explanations were jostling for supremacy in his brain and he couldn’t really 332

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understand any of them. Just then, Lucy walked out of the kitchen, her hair messed up and that silky expression on her face that he knew so well. Or rather, that he’d once known so well. “Who is it, David?” she said. Then she saw Jamie. And everything became clear. “Jamie? Please, I can explain. I…” But it was too late. Her voice followed him down the garden path as Jamie half-walked, half-stumbled away. At the last moment, he turned around. “Good for you,” he yelled. “Bloody well good for you.”

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CHAPTER 24 Bloody hell, Jamie thought, I’m turning into a bit-part soap actor. He was now officially the sort of bloke who yelled outside people’s houses and ran away. Dad would be proud. However, of all the things he’d thought about Lucy, he’d never once imagined that. And with David, of all people. David? Lucy and David? When had he stopped being gay? Storming up the A12 toward London, Jamie tried to stop churning the scene around in his head and concentrate on what he was doing. He didn’t want to cause an accident. Not when he really needed to focus on the conference he’d spent the last few months preparing for. He had to think of the conference. It was the most important thing. Though how long had the whole Lucy and David affair been going on anyway? Was it before or after he and Robert 334

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had… Oh, never mind. But when had Lucy— The screech of brakes behind Jamie as he tried to overtake a slow-moving lorry brought him back to reality. Swerving into the left-hand lane again, the flashy Jaguar he’d just cut off drew level and hooted. “Screw you,” Jamie muttered back, knowing any road courtesy he might once have possessed wasn’t going to be in evidence today. “What do you know?” The Jaguar roared away in a blur of righteous indignation. Jamie could feel it in the fumes. He must pay more attention. Turning the volume up on the radio, he tried to drive all thoughts out of his head. Again, no use. All he could think of was the way Lucy had looked at David. David. She’d never looked at Jamie like that, had she? Not even at the beginning when they couldn’t get enough of each other. Or was it truer to say when he couldn’t get enough of her? Then again, he knew he’d never looked at Lucy like that. Ever. So maybe he couldn’t blame her for finding someone who did. But David didn’t even like women. Or so he said. Just what was wrong with everybody’s sexuality? People should bloody well get it sorted out. Jamie groaned as he realized he had no firm ground to stand on when it came to that particular topic. If Robert were here right now, Jamie would be gazing at him with that same dreamy expression Lucy had had on her face when she looked at David. Gazing and gazing until his eyes fell out. He knew he would. Stupidly, he felt the tears well up and blinked them away until the road came back into focus again. Once he reached the grimy outskirts of East London, another realization entered his head. How many people knew what had 335

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been going on with Lucy and David? How much did they know? Why hadn’t anyone told him? Someone had to know. This was Limewater after all. Then the image of Michael talking and talking, and trying to keep him away from Lucy in the pub at last hit home, and Jamie cursed his own blindness. He was right then. You couldn’t keep anything quiet in rural Suffolk. Especially not an illicit love affair. Which surely made his decision about Robert the right one. Didn’t it? No, he couldn’t go there right now. Best to keep on the subject of Lucy and David. Dad didn’t know about them, of course, and Jamie was at least sure Mary was as innocent as the summer sky. Today was Tuesday, and Jamie had almost forgotten Lucy would be coming to see his father, wouldn’t she? He swore at himself; of course, she would. She was a professional, no matter what. But might she try and swap her duties with someone else now? Jamie hoped not. She was good for his dad, and Jamie knew it. Finally, at seven A.M., as he swung the Toyota into the hotel car park and switched off the engine, Jamie decided for sanity’s sake it was no good trying to solve all his problems this moment; other things were far more important. In the hotel’s reception area, he placed the equipment he’d brought with him on the nearest table and rang the courtesy bell. At once, a young man smartly dressed in a dark blue suit and wearing a metal badge sporting the legend, Reception Executive, popped up from behind the desk and smiled. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t see you come in. I was just looking for some papers. It’s Mr. Chadwick, isn’t it? For the conference?” Jamie nodded, pleased to see the hotel staff were several steps ahead of the day’s events. After a few preliminary remarks, the 336

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smart young man, whose name he discovered was Phil, led him into the conference centre, a light and spacious building next to the main hotel and joined by a bridging corridor. The next hour or so was spent setting up the room in the way the client wanted it, juggling computer connections, internet links and vast coils of cable into some kind of order. Phil ordered the catering staff to begin laying out the coffee cups for anyone who might want something before the day started, while Jamie prepared the front reception table in the centre lobby. Phil kept dropping by when he had a few moments to spare from his job to see how things were going and to help out. He was a bit of a talker, but that was no bad thing as it kept Jamie’s mind off David and Lucy. And Robert. Ms. Randall arrived at seven-thirty on a cloud of perfume Jamie didn’t have a hope of naming, but by that time everything was on the way to looking good. He hoped. She cast a critical eye over the main room while Jamie waited, breath trapped in his throat, aware of Phil hovering at the corner of his eye like the messenger of doom. When she smiled at last, Jamie’s breath escaped from his clenched teeth like the whistle of a steam train. He swept her away into a brief technical conversation to pass over the moment, ignoring the stifled and distinctly unprofessional laugh of his would-be aide-de-camp. After that, they carried on organizing, setting up, checking and rechecking. At eight-thirty the first of the delegates arrived. This was the part Jamie always enjoyed most. Like the beginning of a race or the first act of a play, it was up to him and the team he’d handpicked from the hotel to settle each guest into the conference and ensure every one of them felt as if he and the team had been waiting only for them. Handing out delegate packs, name badges and cups of coffee; 337

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dealing with parking queries; taking coats and directing the flow of people away and into the centre, Jamie could feel the adrenaline powering through him. He was able to smile, smile, smile, all the time, no matter what he might have been thinking. Yes, this was what he was good at. Never mind whatever else of a mess was going on back in Suffolk and in his life. This he could do. As always, he sat at the back when the conference began, where he could leap into action if needed, and soaked up what was going on. From experience, he knew that if the atmosphere, the buzz, was there from the start, then it would be there all day. Unless something dreadful happened. Of course, nothing would, would it? He’d gone over everything repeatedly and it was watertight. This one would be perfect. It had to be. The tingle of anticipation in his blood told him that so far things were going well. Mind you, it did surprise him looking around to see so many accountants and management types all primed and ready. He’d never realized such people would have so much energy in them. And there were so many of them, nearly four hundred or so, and, for a moment, Jamie allowed himself the luxury of visualizing his pay check at the end of it all. Yes. His dreams of imminent success were interrupted only when Ms. Randall stood up on the stage to welcome everybody and introduce the first speaker, a short, elderly man with an acute understanding of the technology Jamie had provided for his presentation and a caustic wit. Everybody seemed to know him and the day began exactly as Jamie had hoped it would—with an appropriate amount of laughter and some good solid learning. At the first scheduled break, Phil and Jamie helped the team of centre staff direct various groups either to the coffee and 338

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shortbread waiting for them in the foyer or to the different interactive computer sites located around the hall. “How’s it going?” Phil asked as he directed a group of greysuited women to the ladies’ room. “Great. Just how I expected it.” He grinned. “Good for you.” But Jamie spoke too soon. Within a couple of minutes, he picked up the sound of discontented murmuring from the groups clustering round the computers. Racing with as much dignity as he could to the back of one of them, Jamie could see that the connection wasn’t working. A quick tour around the other groups led him to the same conclusion. The network must be down. Damn. Seeing the formidable Ms. Randall bearing down upon him from across the hall like the Grim Reaper, he turned to look for a solution and spotted Phil collecting some stray cups that had been deposited under the seats. Thank God. Jamie grabbed him. “Have you got a minute?” “Yes, of course.” “There’s a problem with the internal network. Get the nearest capable engineer and send him to me, would you?” “Will do,” he said, and was gone, leaving a tray of dirty cups behind him. Jamie slid it back under one of the seats with his foot, just as Ms. Randall caught up with him. “Mr. Chadwick, this is not going well. You told me there would be interactive computer material at this point. Why isn’t there?” “I’m terribly sorry,” Jamie replied, plastering a calm yet apologetic smile across his features, although, inside, his brain was racing for a solution before the delegates started to lose faith. “The 339

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network has gone down, and I’ve just sent for an engineering team to resolve it.” Heck, he almost sounded like someone who might be in control. He knew, though, that he’d better come up with something soon or JC Conferences would sink without ever having learnt to float. “That’s all very well. But what are you going to do now?” Ms. Randall waved an arm toward some of the groups who were beginning to sound more than disgruntled, even half the hall away. “Don’t worry, Ms. Randall. I’ll deal with it.” Without any clear idea of what he was actually going to do, Jamie stepped up onto the stage, tapped the microphone and coughed. The hall struggled toward some kind of silence, and everyone faced him. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began and realized his voice was several octaves higher than its usual range. He coughed once more and began again. “Ladies and gentlemen, I do apologize for the malfunction of the network, especially as I know how much you’ve been looking forward to viewing the different computer presentations. We’re working to resolve the issue and hope to have everything in full working order for lunchtime. In the meantime, please enjoy the rest of your break and feel free to browse the book and pamphlet stall. Ms. Randall and her team will be happy to answer any questions you might have. Once again, apologies and thank you for your patience.” As he stepped down, the sweat making the back of his neck tingle, Jamie caught a glimpse of Phil at the door giving him the thumbs-up sign. As several keen delegates were already cornering 340

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Ms. Randall, he was able to escape her attention and head off toward the ever-helpful reception executive. “What’s happening?” “The engineer’s onto it now. Thinks it’s just a localized breakdown. Should be up and running in ten or fifteen minutes.” Jamie smiled his thanks. He’d known it wouldn’t be anything Robert might have overlooked. He’d better make sure the network was not only active in the lunch hour but during the afternoon break and after the conference as well. That way people would have a chance to see what was there. It would mean a longer day than anticipated, but that couldn’t be helped. It was part of the game. When the second morning session began, a little later than expected, the crisis was over and two groups had even managed to run one of the computer packages before being shepherded back to their chairs. Jamie could relax. For a while. During lunch, when everyone was enjoying their buffet in the dining room, he busied himself tidying up the hall and preparing the stage and LCD for the next speaker. There was no time for food and his stomach rumbled, but he ignored it. He could always grab a snack later. Ten minutes before they were due to restart, Phil brought him a sandwich, which he wolfed down with a nod of thanks. “Would you like another?” he asked, sounding amused but polite. Shaking his head, Jamie swallowed the last of the egg mayonnaise. “No, but cheers for this. What’s the atmosphere in the dining room like? Everything okay?” “Sure. Ms. Randall’s just popped out to rustle up the next speaker. He disappeared in the direction of the gents’ five minutes ago and hasn’t been seen since.” 341

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“God, I hope he’s okay. That’s all we need.” “Yes, I—” There was a sudden flurry of movement from the door. “Mr. Chadwick, Mr. Chadwick!” Ms. Randall looked flustered and out of control for the first time today, so Jamie smiled the most reassuring smile in his repertoire to try to calm her down. “Yes, Ms. Randall. What is it?” “I can’t find Dr. Smithers. Have you seen him? He’s due to speak first after lunch, and people are already starting to filter into the room.” It was true. Several groups of people were heading toward the now fully functional computers for a last-minute viewing and others were beginning to take their seats. “Don’t worry,” Jamie said. “Phil and I will go and find him. If you could keep control of things here, we’ll be back in five minutes.” Still looking worried, Ms. Randall headed toward the stage while Phil and Jamie walked as quickly as they could outside the hall. Once out of sight of his client, Jamie broke into a run and headed to the last known whereabouts of Dr. Smithers. “I hope he’s all right.” Phil said nothing, but matched him stride for stride until they came to a halt at the gents’ toilets. From outside, they could hear the sound of someone shouting. At least the bloke’s alive, Jamie thought. If it were him. “Dr. Smithers?” he said as he opened the door. “Is that you?” It felt as if he was in some kind of old Carry On film and any moment now, Sid James or Hattie Jacques would storm out of one of the cubicles. Beside him, Phil stifled a choke of laughter, but when Jamie turned to glare at him, the other man was once again 342

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the epitome of professionalism. There was silence. There was no one here but the three of them. One of whom Jamie hoped would turn out to be the missing speaker. “Dr. Smithers?” he said again. “Yes?” a small voice answered from the furthest stall. “Who’s that?” “It’s Jamie Chadwick. Of JC Conferences. Ms. Randall was wondering if you were okay. You’re next on to speak. Is anything wrong?” “I’m afraid so. I’m stuck.” “Stuck?” Jamie echoed and wondered just what he was going to do about that. “Yes, stuck. You do know what that means, don’t you?” “Has the handle broken, sir?” Phil asked. “Of course. Otherwise, I’d be able to get out, wouldn’t I? I’m not a fool, you know.” No, just a very irate man, Jamie thought. He’d better do something before Dr. Smithers really lost it in there. “If we put a chair next to the door, can you climb out over the top?” Jamie’s suggestion was greeted with a buzz of expletives followed by an explanatory statement. “Not in my bloody physical condition, no,” Dr. Smithers shouted. What was wrong with him? Was he overweight? One-legged? Afraid of heights? “I have a weak heart. It might kill me.” Great. Just what they needed. The conference was about to restart, and the speaker was locked in the toilets about to meet his 343

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Maker. Jamie swore he’d make it work and keep Dr. Smithers alive if he died in the attempt. But he needed to act now. With the trapped man still muttering and cursing away in the cubicle, Jamie made his decision. “Phil, you go and fetch a tool kit. We’ll have to take the door off. I’ll tell Ms. Randall she’ll have to change the order of speakers.” “You can’t do that, young man. What I have to say is vital.” “Dr. Smithers,” Jamie said, in his best and most polite this-iswhat-I’ve-decided-and-that’s-final voice. “Unless you wish the whole of the conference to troop in here to listen to you, I’m afraid we have no other choice.” A silence. Then a weak, “All right.” Phew! Thank goodness for that. Phil was still hovering in the doorway. “Go,” Jamie urged him. “And just in case, bring the St. John’s Ambulance people as well.” He went. “Right, Dr. Smithers, we’ll be back very shortly. Just try and keep calm.” “Don’t leave me here,” he wailed. “I don’t know what might happen.” “Nothing will happen. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Just stay calm. Okay?” With the speaker’s objections at his desertion still reverberating in his ears, Jamie raced back toward the main hall. Who’d be a conference organizer, eh? Why hadn’t he wanted to be an accountant, a librarian or something more sedate? Ms. Randall was waiting at the hall door, foot tapping and arms crossed. “Where have you been, Mr. Chadwick? We’re five 344

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minutes late and people are getting restless. What have you done with Dr. Smithers?” Jamie explained it to her. “Oh, Lord,” she said, her thin face turning paler by the second. “What am I going to do?” “No problem. Change the order of events and use the next speaker first. Once we’ve rescued Dr. Smithers, we can bring in his session later on.” “We can’t do that. He was so keen to be first after the lunch break. Start the afternoon with a bang, he said. And he’s not a man to be messed with.” Yes, Jamie already knew that, but didn’t say it. Instead, he said, “Let me deal with it, Ms. Randall.” “But what will you tell him?” To Jamie’s surprise, his formidable client was looking quite desperate now, a complete turnaround from her attitude to the whole event and to him all the way through the planning stages. He felt an unexpected surge of pity for her. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell him he can have the slot before the afternoon break. That way, he’ll make the delegates sit up and take notice, and they’ll have something to talk about over their tea and pastries. Could create quite a buzz.” Ms. Randall thought for a moment and then nodded. “Yes, that could work. It’s a good idea, Mr. Chadwick. Thank you.” “Cheers,” he said with a smile. “So if you go and reorganize the schedule, I’ll free the unfortunate Dr. Smithers.” “Yes, I’ll do that now.” She smoothed down her skirt, tugged her jacket into place and disappeared into the lion’s den. In the end, it was a matter of seconds only for Phil and Jamie to release the speaker, who spent the next fifteen or twenty minutes 345

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playing up to the concerns of the very young St. John’s Ambulance girl. After that, Jamie dusted him down, gave him a cup of tea and shepherded him back into the hall. Dr. Smithers even seemed delighted with his pre-tea break slot, and Jamie half wondered whether he’d concocted the whole drama in order to get what he now felt was a better speaker positioning. He wouldn’t have been surprised; speakers, in his experience, were a devious bunch. After that, the afternoon flew by in a haze of talks and slides and more talks and, before Jamie knew it, Phil and he were collecting the name badges, shaking a multitude of hands and wishing people a safe journey in a hundred different ways. When the last group of stragglers had disappeared, Jamie sat down, almost shaking with exhaustion. He wondered how that had gone. In reality. Was he finally mainstream or would he still be strictly small-scale? How would Ms. Randall rate him? Where was she anyway? Even as he was mulling this over, Jamie glanced up to see the woman in question bearing down on him from one of the smaller conference rooms. She looked serious. His hand gripped the badge he was holding, and it crumpled, the edges of the card all but piercing his skin. Hell, she was going to bawl him out about the malfunctioning computer link or the trapped speaker. Or she’d hated the food after all. Or people had told her it was all a waste of time. “Mr. Chadwick,” she boomed across the foyer even before she reached him. “Yes?” Jamie shot to his feet and stood to attention like a soldier before his sergeant. Next to him, he could sense Phil’s contained amusement, but he was too tired to care. What was she going to say? 346

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“Mr. Chadwick, I must tell you…” Hell, what? What? “I must tell you how very impressed I am with your handling of the event today. Things always go wrong at conferences, but you dealt with all the hiccups with professionalism and speed. The immediate feedback from the delegates I’ve spoken to is positive. Very positive, in fact. Thank you very much for your hard work. And I look forward to doing business with JC Conferences again soon.” With that, she stretched out her hand and smiled. Yes. *

*

*

“I knew it’d be a success, you know,” Phil said, as he helped Jamie pack the last of the pads and pens back into the car. “It’s obvious you’re good at this.” Jamie smiled at him and he smiled back. “I should be. It’s my job.” Still holding his gaze, Phil shrugged. “Some people who come here aren’t so committed. You’d be surprised.” There was a silence and Jamie found himself admiring the slight curl of blond hair against Phil’s neck and the way his eyes glinted in the late afternoon sun. With a sense of shock, he felt his prick harden and looked away. In spite of the July heat, Jamie shivered. God, he’d thought this only ever happened with Robert. And Phil was nothing like him. In any way. Perhaps Jamie was gayer than he’d imagined after all? Thinking of Robert made his stomach lurch and, for a moment, all Jamie longed for was for the older man to be here. Reddening, 347

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he turned round to get in the car, but Phil was two steps ahead of him. “Do you have to leave now?” he said, placing his hand with cool deliberation onto Jamie’s leg. “Why don’t you come and have a drink first? See how the evening pans out?” Jamie’s first thought was, Hell, why not? David changed with the breeze. If he could do it, then so could Jamie. He could be really gay where David obviously wasn’t. His second thought was that maybe it would get this whole Robert thing out of his system if he slept with someone else. And his third and final thought was…but I don’t want that. He didn’t want that at all. “I’m sorry,” he heard himself say. “I’d love to, but there’s someone else. At least I think there is. He’s not here at the moment. It’s complicated. But he’s…he’s…” “Important to you?” Phil completed the sentence that Jamie could not. He nodded. Phil shrugged. “Oh, well. Shame, though. I’ve spent all day trying to chat you up, and you’ve blanked me at every turn. I suppose it has to be love. No other possible reason to turn down a class one prospect like me, is there?” Jamie couldn’t help but laugh. “No,” he agreed. “No other possible reason at all.” Later, driving back home, with the window rolled down and one arm on the sill, Jamie felt as if somehow he’d arrived. He’d been attracted to a man who wasn’t Robert. He might still be a totally screwed-up loser with no hope of a happy ending, but at least he knew he was gay. Welcome to the twenty-first century. Who’s the ultimate modern man now? 348

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CHAPTER 25 But maybe not modern enough. Because once the razzmatazz was over and the clearing up done, he emailed Robert a long note of thanks for his help and received a neutral reply. Jamie couldn’t blame him, but it made him feel sick. After a few days, he emailed Robert again, this time taking what little courage he had in both hands and allowing himself to be more personal, but now there was no response. What else did he expect? He’d pushed Robert away twice. There wouldn’t be a third time. Even so, part of Jamie wanted to pack his bags there and then, and take the next plane for Japan. But it was impossible. What would happen to Dad? So he did nothing and had all the time in the world to mull over 349

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his non-existent love life, which he tried to blank out, and his professional life, which was much the best option for consideration. Business was good, especially after the conference. Although, of course, everything came to a halt until the autumn season kicked in. The end of July and the whole of August were always slack months, except for the planning and preparation for the next round, which, by the look of it, would be a whole lot bigger than before. So in the midst of the holiday period, the annual influx of children playing on the village green, American tourists pacing the High Street, the occupied tables in the gardens of The King’s Head and the scent of lavender and wild roses, Jamie had nothing to do except think. In the meantime, there was still his father to look after. However, with the stair-lift installed, a ramp down into the kitchen and a small washbasin in his father’s room, life in the Chadwick household seemed brighter than it had been before the older man’s collapse. Mary was still doing more than she needed to. Jamie spent days trying to persuade her she shouldn’t take on so much, but she refused, saying she was their friend and it was the least she could do. In the end, he had no option but to stop asking. It was always vital to know when he was outmaneuvered. Other things were changing, too, faster than he had imagined and in ways he’d never thought of before. Since the conference and the conversation with Phil, Jamie had ventured into Colchester once or twice and discovered that there were clubs he could go to within easy reach of Limewater if he wanted to have a drink or a dance with a bloke without anyone knowing. He hadn’t gone farther than some heavy kissing, though. He still didn’t want to. Because of Robert. 350

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He assumed one day that would pass, but he couldn’t quite grasp when that day might arrive. Neither did he feel gay. Not really. No matter how much, during those first few weeks after the conference, Jamie worried that he might start finding Barbra Streisand or Judy Garland attractive, or even become convinced of the delights of shopping for net curtains, it never happened. And no-one suspected. How could they? Their minds were on other matters. The whole village, apart from Dad, now knew the reason why Lucy and he had split, or thought they did, and were determined to make their views known. Soon, Jamie realized, he would be drowned by a sea of advice and concern, and might never be able to swim to shore. In an attempt to divert everyone’s attention from the Chadwicks, he decided to act like an adult and face his exgirlfriend first. Something he should have done many, many weeks ago. *

*

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He finally caught up with her at the front door after one of his father’s exercise sessions just as she was about to leave. She wouldn’t look at him, and Jamie couldn’t think of how to start. “Is Dad okay?” he said at last, stuck for anything more suitable. She nodded. “He’s tired out. He’s having a rest in the living room.” “Okay. Look, Lucy, can you come into the dining room? We need to talk, don’t we?” “Yes, you’re right. Oh, Jamie, I’m so sorry.” Shushing her, he waved her into the dining room and shut the door. They stood facing each other and, for a moment, Jamie didn’t 351

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know whether he should cry or shout. Looking at Lucy he thought was like looking at another life he might have been able to lead. Once. If she’d allowed him to. A vivid picture of Robert took all his sudden and ridiculous anger away. There was really nothing to accuse her of, though knowing this didn’t make it hurt any less. Lucy spoke first. “Jamie, I wanted to say I’m sorry about the way you found out about David and me. Really I am. I was going to tell you, but…” “But what?” His fingers gripped the nearest wooden chair and he felt the grain imprint itself on his hand. “But when I heard about your father, I just couldn’t do it. I’m sorry.” That made sense. “Yeah, I see. I knew things weren’t brilliant with us, but I hoped they might come out right in the end. I did once, anyway. I…” Surprised to find he couldn’t say any more, Jamie pulled out the chair he was still holding and sat down. Lucy moved around the table and did the same. Her hair swung over her face and she brushed it aside. Again that faint scent of apples. “Did you really?” she said. “Think it would be okay in the end? Because I thought after a while that… Never mind. It’s too late now.” “Yeah, I suppose so. But how long had it been going on before I found out?” The tremor in his voice threatened to betray him, but he ignored it. “Jamie, does that really matter? It’s happened and I’m sorry I messed up, but…” “We both messed up. It wasn’t just you, and I’m sorry, too. For not paying you enough attention and for loads of stuff.” He couldn’t name it, so carried on. “Humor me. Tell me anyway; it 352

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can’t hurt.” “Okay.” She hesitated. When her next words came, they weren’t what Jamie had expected. “Since about Easter time.” “What?” Gaping at her, Jamie tried to bring his thoughts under control. Three months? Heck, he had to admire her because he’d had no idea. Bloody hell. He rocked back on the chair. She talked on, as if his question had unleashed a tidal wave. “Yes, I’m so sorry,” she said, and now she was almost crying. “David’s so easy to talk to, and I never felt I could tell you things like I could him. I always felt, still feel, you were keeping me at a distance. That’s why I thought it would be best not to be too serious at the beginning. That and that other relationship I’d had. The one I couldn’t talk to you about. I swear I did think once that maybe you and I might be all right, but it wasn’t for long. You always seemed more at ease when you talked about Robert and your work, that kind of stuff. “I like you, Jamie, really I do. And I’m so sorry I started seeing David and then things happened. It was so surprising, for him and for me, and I should’ve told you, but I didn’t trust feeling right again with someone, so I took the coward’s way out by pretending it wasn’t happening and would be okay. But it was hurtful. I know that.” All the while, as she was speaking, Jamie patted her hand and murmured soothing noises. As Robert had once done to try to comfort him. Suddenly the whole thing seemed ridiculous. If only Lucy had known what he’d done, and, before he could stop himself, Jamie found he was snorting with suppressed laughter. “Jamie?” Lucy looked up, her eyes still wet and a frown on her face. 353

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“Sorry, but it’s funny, too, isn’t it? God, who’d live in the twenty-first century? I mean, to be honest, here the two of us are. We were supposed to be going out together, and all the while, you were actually with David, and I… Well, I was with Robert. Briefly. And then, when I wasn’t, I wanted to be with him.” At once, the laughter was gone, as if it had never been there at all. “So I’m sorry, too,” Jamie said, looking her straight in the eyes. “For how I behaved. I really do like you, Lucy, but I think that when it comes down to it, I’m gay and it never would have worked out between us. Would it?” Just as when he’d told the truth about himself to Mark, there was a long silence. Or, most likely, it wasn’t long at all. It simply felt that way. Then Lucy began to smile. “Ah, I see,” she said. “I did wonder.” *

*

*

In the end, it had been okay with Lucy. Jamie and she had talked, a lot, and it had been good. He felt as if he’d gained a friend when he needed it most. He hoped she felt the same. Damn it, he’d make sure she did. The next day, however, his father entered the fray from a perspective of ignorance. Which, when it came to it, was safer all around. “Now, Jamie, I’m so pleased you and young Lucy have made it up. I was getting worried about you, you know.” “What?” Looking up from the copy of the Financial Times that he’d been scanning while enjoying the warm breeze from the garden, 354

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Jamie saw his father had turned off the television and was beaming at him as if he’d suddenly said something amusing. “Yes,” Dad went on. “I think you and Lucy make a lovely couple. It’s nice to see you so well suited. Now if you could just settle down, maybe even get married.” “Dad, I don’t think—” “The two of you could live here. There’s plenty of room, and the house—” “I don’t think that’s a good idea, because—” “Could do with a woman’s touch. Although, of course, dear Mary is a wonderful help, but—” “Dad!” Something in Jamie’s voice must have warned him, as his father stopped without completing his sentence and watched as Jamie leapt up, walked over to the bookcase and pretended to study its contents. Maybe he should tell his father all now and take the consequences? No, the time would never be right. He knew that. “Thanks for the offer, Dad, but I’m afraid you thought wrong,” he said in the end. “It’s more complicated than that.” “Complicated? How can such things be complicated? It’s natural.” Jamie snatched an ancient edition of War and Peace from the shelves and dropped it with more of a thud than he’d intended onto the nearest table. The choice of title seemed apt. “Lucy’s seeing someone else.” “Oh,” his father said. *

*

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After that, it wasn’t long before Jamie was given Mary’s view 355

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of events as well. It was more comprehensive than his father’s and twice as accurate. “Jamie, dear?” “Yes?” He moved aside from his position at the office desk to allow her to flick her feather duster over the computer screen. “Have you heard? I mean, did you know? What I mean to say is…” “Yes?” He snatched a glass of water from the desk before she could sweep it over his files. “I know this isn’t any of my business, but I was talking with Mrs. Bradley when I was buying some more eggs, and it was so funny because for a few minutes there were only the two of us there so she didn’t mind chatting. She’s always so busy with other customers usually, but perhaps the warm weather has drawn them all to the green. Or the seaside, if there are young children involved, which—” “Mary,” Jamie cut in over this glorious stream of consciousness, “what is it you’ve heard?” Mary coughed and smoothed down her hair. “Well, dear,” she said, “Mrs. Bradley and I were discussing what’s going on in the village as we always do. And she said she was sure young Lucy and that David are walking out now and she’s seen them in the pub together, but I said no, that couldn’t be true. And it can’t be, can it? Still, you ought to know what people are saying. But I know you and Lucy are sweet on each other, and anyway I’m sure you’re the better catch, my dear. Of course you are.” “That’s very kind of you, but…” And,” she drew herself up to her full five-foot-four and propped the feather duster like a spear on the table, “if it is true, 356

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then all I can say is that young Lucy doesn’t know what’s good for her, really she doesn’t. The Chadwicks are well respected here, and you, Jamie, are a fine young man who deserves better than to be treated like that. If that’s the way it is.” For a moment, Jamie was speechless. He found he was experiencing a peculiar melting sensation in his stomach. He’d never known Mary felt that way and he swallowed. Hard. “Thank you,” he said, turning aside and bringing a sort of fierce concentration to bear on the blank computer screen. “It’s…it’s very kind of you to say so, but I’m afraid Mrs. Bradley is right. Lucy and David are together now.” “Oh,” she said after a short silence, during which Jamie thought she might have patted his hair, but he couldn’t be sure. “My dear, I’m so sorry. What a thing to happen. But don’t you worry yourself about it; there are plenty of other fish in the pond.” *

*

*

Jamie wasn’t worried. At least not about Lucy and himself. There were other things on his mind, jazzing up his insides and making him feel he had to do something and soon. So he did. Kind of. He rang Robert. It was mid-August, and, sitting in the office, the door shut against the world and the heat rising, Jamie dialed his number. He didn’t have to look it up. When Robert answered, all his courage vanished like mist; he didn’t know what to do and his hands felt clammy. Click. “Robert Trevelyan speaking, can I help you?” Jamie said nothing. 357

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“Jamie? Is that you?” He still said nothing. He wasn’t capable of speech. “Jamie?” Robert whispered. “I know it’s you. Your number is on the caller ID.” On Jamie’s part, silence. He sighed. “Jamie, if this is you, or your father, please let me know.” He said something. Not words exactly, but more like a cross between a groan and a whisper. “Is everything all right?” Robert asked. Somehow he managed a grunt that contained within it the word “yes.” “Good,” said Robert. “Okay then, what did you want to talk to me about?” Once more Jamie couldn’t speak. He wanted to but the words wouldn’t come. Robert sighed. “Please don’t do this to me. Again. I mean, we’ve been here before, haven’t we? You never want to talk. And you can’t commit. Believe me, I understand about your father. I do. I even once thought you and I might end up in a relationship together. A good one. Maybe we waited too long, I don’t know.” Another pause. “Would you have liked that, Jamie? To be in a relationship with me? A real one? Would you like it now? Girlfriend or no girlfriend? Is that what all this silence is about?” Jamie couldn’t answer. He could only listen. It was as if his silence and this physical distance were somehow giving Robert carte blanche to say whatever he liked. Jamie’s throat was dry and he wondered if he would ever be able to speak again . “God.” From thousands of miles away, Robert’s voice 358

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trembled. “It’s stupid to talk like this. I’m not as ‘out’ here as I am in England. Does that surprise you, Jamie? Did you know that? No, I don’t suppose you did. Why should you? You think I’m so brave, don’t you? Well, I’m not. Even after what I said to you before I left. Even after that.” He sighed. “Perhaps I’m as much of a hypocrite as you have to be, and at least your reasons are better. Over here, some of my best clients have no idea I’m gay. I take them to dinner, we talk about their wives and children, and then there’s a gap, where they expect to hear about mine. Sometimes I say nothing, but sometimes I make something up about having a girlfriend back in England. How’s that for total cowardice then?” A continent or two away, Jamie replaced the receiver. *

*

*

It didn’t matter because what Robert had said now clung to Jamie’s mind like a wasp to a jam pot and drove away all other considerations. Damn it. Even if he’d wanted to try to forget, it wouldn’t have been possible, he thought as he strolled along the river footpath in the early evening light, trying to take stock. In any case he didn’t want to forget. Robert had said he wasn’t out in Japan. But Jamie was only out to two people in the whole world. Well, presumably three, as Mark had, of course, with his permission, told Allie. Still not much of a total. As for the whole relationship thing, Robert had— “Hi there.” The sound of a male voice piercing the swirling fog that constituted his mind these days made Jamie jump. When he looked up, Nick and Carina were standing in front of him. They must have 359

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come from the direction of the church and he hadn’t even noticed them. Love’s young dream. Damn it. And, remembering where he’d last had any kind of a conversation with Carina, that is, the village fete, they were the very last couple he really wanted to see. He could only deal with a certain amount of honesty and truth in one year. Jamie’s face flamed at the memory and he muttered a kind of greeting, at the same time quickening his pace in order to get past them. It wasn’t going to be that easy, though. “Business okay?” Nick asked, as they were almost shoulder-toshoulder on the bank. “I heard the conference was good. Sorry I didn’t ring or anything, but…” “He’s been busy,” Carina finished the sentence. “He’s going to go travelling again, you know. Back in Australia when I’m up at college. Though maybe I’ll join him over Christmas. We’ll have to see.” She took hold of his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, causing Nick to hunch up and look shame-faced and soft-eyed all in the same moment. It was a strange combination and one that caused a barb of jealousy to fire through Jamie’s blood. Though not of course in response to either of them. “Great,” he said. “I’m pleased about that, Nick. You’ll enjoy it. Best of luck. And remember, if you ever want a good reference, just give me a ring. Okay?” Nick nodded his thanks, and Jamie slid past them like a fish escaping the net. He thought he was home free, but he relaxed too soon. From behind him came the sound of scampering feet, and soft fingers touched his arm. It was Carina. A polite distance away, Nick stood waiting. “Thanks for that, Jamie,” she said. “The reference, I mean. It’s 360

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very thoughtful of you.” “No problem.” Then lowering her voice even more, she said, “I’m sorry about Lucy, and I hope everything’s all right with you. And that it all works out, in whatever way, you know. What…whatever you prefer, I mean.” With that she was gone, back to Nick, like gossamer lifted by the wind. *

*

*

Of course, Jamie knew exactly what she meant. The lack of spoken reference to what had happened was irrelevant. Before he knew what he was doing, he found himself on the phone to Japan once again. “Hello, Jamie.” “Robert,” he said. At least this time he could talk. All those miles away, Robert waited but Jamie simply didn’t know how to begin. Even the man’s name was filling his mouth so much that there didn’t seem room for anything else. Finally he managed, “You okay?” “Good. You?” Of course he had no answer to that. After another silence, Robert spoke. “I don’t know why you’re ringing me like this, Jamie,” he said. “Are you wanting me to say something in particular? Won’t it be quicker if you just give me a clue as to what that something is? Is it to do with our relationship? Or lack of one? Your father? Mark? Lucy? David?” He said nothing in reply. It was about all of those and none of 361

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them. “Is it about me?” “Yes,” Jamie said. “Okay. You want me to say something about me. Bloody hell, Jamie, so there’s no pressure with these calls then?” Pressure? Robert had no idea what pressure was, lucky him. Jamie wished Robert were with him, though. He wished he was him. “Okay, I’ll tell you something about me, if that’s what you want. Where should I start? You don’t want to know about the train set I had when I was nine, do you? What about my sexuality? Do you want to know about that? About when I first knew I was gay? That’s easy. I think I’ve always known, but I first slept with a man when I was eighteen. Freshers’ week at Oxford, if you’re interested. What was it like? Now there you’re really asking something.” Robert paused, almost as if he were casting his mind back and reliving the experience. Jamie wasn’t sure whether he wanted to know all this, but it looked like he was going to have to listen. If that was what it took to hear Robert speak. “It was good. It always is. I’m a bloke after all,” Robert went on and, even from this distance Jamie could hear the smile in his voice. “But to be honest, no sex I’ve ever had was even half as good as making out with you on my sofa all those years ago. Not half as good as when you came to my office and let me jerk you off. Not half as good as just before you slammed me into the fridge in your kitchen. Not half as good as when the two of us were rolling around like teenagers outside the marquee at the church fete. “And, though I hate to say it, not even a quarter as good as the 362

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night your father went into hospital and you let me stay. I swear to you, Jamie, that was the happiest I’ve ever been. But in the morning Lucy rang. Great timing, eh? Anyway, perhaps I should ask you how she is? And why you’re calling me like this, Jamie. Jamie?” Jamie didn’t want to hear more. Not when Lucy was part of the conversation. Because thinking of her meant also thinking about David. “Please,” Jamie said. “I’ve got to go. I’m sorry.” He disconnected the call and tried to bring his breathing under control. It took a while. *

*

*

Thinking about David was turning out to be the hardest thing of all. Maybe it was because Jamie had known him before. David was a friend, someone he’d met at university and got on well with. His lying to Jamie was a thousand times worse than Lucy doing the same. David ought to have tried to see him, but he hadn’t, and then the time for that had vanished. Jamie had found out about David and Lucy in July and now it was the beginning of September and still David and he were ignoring each other. At least that’s what Jamie supposed it was. He shook his head. He should simply forget it, but he couldn’t. After all, he’d made peace with Lucy. That should have been the bigger thing. But behind it all lurked the one fact he couldn’t come to terms with—David had kicked him where it hurt twice, or that was how it seemed. Once with Lucy and once—and far more importantly to Jamie—with Robert. Of course, he couldn’t have known how Jamie felt about that. Although, when Jamie thought 363

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about it, maybe David felt exactly the same way about Jamie and Lucy? The whole thing was more than he could make sense of. Leaning back in his usual seat at the corner table of The King’s Head, Jamie took a sip of his pint and tried to work out what it was in the Limewater air that made relationships so ruddy complex. David was straight, then he was gay—or he said he was—and now he was straight again. On the other hand, Jamie had been straight, then gay—for a while—then simply confused, and now definitely gay. Both David and he must be more twisted up than a pneumatic drill after a long day in tarmac. If David were here sitting opposite him right now, he’d… “Jamie?” “David?” He leapt up, slamming his groin against the table’s metallic edge. “Bloody hell.” “You okay?” David stood there, dressed in pale cream chinos and T-shirt, looking rather annoyingly attractive and holding what appeared to be a cider, as Jamie hissed through his teeth, trying to keep back the tears springing to his eyes. That would be terrible; David would think he was a wimp, and he couldn’t bear that. David said nothing while Jamie sorted himself out, but stood there as if he were waiting for a bus. One that he had little hope would arrive. When the mist finally cleared from Jamie’s eyes, he glanced up and saw Michael at the bar looking as if he were poised for action. Jamie wished he’d been as ready, but now David was here, he’d simply have to get on with it and talk to him. Somehow. As he sat down, gesturing for David to do the same, Jamie gave Michael a slight shake of the head. There’d be no fight here, at least not this evening. The landlord nodded and turned away. 364

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“Thanks,” David said. “Do you want another drink?” “Still got one. Maybe later.” “Okay.” A silence followed, in which Jamie imagined they were both casting around trying to think of what to say. Having a heart-toheart with a woman or his own brother was one thing, but trying to do the same with a non-family member, and another bloke to boot, was beyond impossible. “So, how’s Lucy?” Jamie asked, knowing quite well how she was. “She’s fine. Thanks.” “Good.” “Tell me, David—” “Look, Jamie, I—” They both started speaking and then broke off at once. At the second take, Jamie was quicker with the line. “Tell me,” he said again. “What kind of friend did you think you were being?” “The worst, I know. Sorry.” He’d expected some sort of defense, but found it wasn’t easy to argue with someone who didn’t fight back. “Oh. Okay,” Jamie said. “Look, you never were gay, were you? Not really.” “No, I wasn’t.” David shook his head and fiddled with his glass. “I wanted to be something different, maybe just experiment a little, but it didn’t work out. Though God knows, I liked the clothes. I thought I was one thing, but I wasn’t. I was another. I screwed up behind your back finding that out, and for that, I’m sorry. But no matter what you think, there’s one thing I’ll never be sorry for.” 365

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The intensity of what sounded like a speech he’d practiced made Jamie laugh, and David looked at him, wide-eyed. It might not have been the reaction he was expecting, but what did that matter? None of this was turning out the way Jamie had imagined either. Plus there were likely to be several more surprises to come before the dust had settled. When Jamie had finished laughing, he took a gulp of his beer before speaking. “Sorry. It’s just that you looked as if you were going to be sick, you were so serious.” “I am serious.” “I know. And don’t get me wrong. I appreciate what you’re trying to tell me, but I’ve had a lot of time to think since July, too. Yes, you really pissed me off, but it was more pride than anything else. I imagine Lucy’s told you what I told her a while ago. About Robert?” David nodded, carefully. “Yes, she did say something along those lines.” “Good. So I suppose I was more pissed off about you being with Robert, and you must’ve been more than pissed off about me being with Lucy. I suppose we’re equal, in some measure. You have Lucy and what’s important to me is that she and I are fine now. Maybe you and I can be fine, too, one day?” He blinked, and Jamie went on, “So anyway, what’s this one thing you won’t be sorry for?” Looking straight at him, David said, “I love her. And I wanted you to be the first to know. Lucy and I are getting married. In October.” *

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Several days later, hidden away in the office, Jamie felt that announcement still reverberating around his head. David was about to be matched, he’d got his life sorted and everything for him was moving nicely to a neat conclusion. Lucky bugger. Or not bugger, in fact. So where, if anywhere, did that leave Jamie? Smoothing down the crisp, modern-style wedding invitation, he replaced it on the desk and dialed the so-familiar set of numbers. “Jamie? Hello. I’d begun to wonder where you’d got to. It’s been a while. I’ve been missing our conversations.” “Don’t fuck with me, Robert.” Jamie could feel the other man’s surprise that he’d spoken a whole sentence and so early on in the call. It gave him a rushing, powerful feeling, as if he’d decided something he hadn’t even known he was thinking about. “Yes, I can speak more than two words at a time,” Jamie said, “when I want to. Up to now, I’ve had nothing useful to say.” “And a great deal to listen to. I hope it’s been of interest to you.” “Some. Some of it has been complete crap, of course.” “Well, I—” “Shut up. Shut up and listen, will you? I know you have everything nicely arranged. Sex at eighteen. Joyful instant acceptance from your closest relatives. Masterful success in your chosen business. Accolades from all and sundry. Good-looking boys for you to be with whenever you feel like it, no doubt. Bloody hell, some of us aren’t so lucky, are we? Some of us only came to actual sex when we were twenty, can you imagine? How terrible. “Some of us would never have joyful acceptance from the member of their family that means the most to them, even if we were to ride naked across the wilds of Essex in winter to get it. 367

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Some of us produce business results that, by their very nature, last no more than a couple of days, a week at most. And some of us might take a damn sight longer to understand ourselves and our sexuality than other luckier people do, and we don’t want to be browbeaten for that fact. Do you hear me?” “Yes, I hear you.” “Good,” he replied, feeling unbelievably weary. “And while you’re on, seeing as it concerns you, too, I thought you might like to know that I don’t have a girlfriend any more. If I ever did. She’s going out with your ex-boyfriend. Or rather your ex-boyfriend in this country. Not only that, but they’re getting married. First Wednesday in October if you’re interested. Why don’t you come over and witness this astonishing turn-round? For now, though, do us both a favor and get out of my bloody head, would you? Cheers.” Time to face the rest of his life. Time, as they said, to move on.

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CHAPTER 26 Wednesday morning. October. One month later, and the day of the wedding, which was set for four P.M. The skies were dull with the threat of rain, but it looked as if it might clear up later on. David and Lucy were going to be lucky. As it was a special day, Jamie got up early and brought his dad breakfast in bed. His father had protested, as over the last few weeks he’d been eating his Weetabix and muffins at the table happily enough, but today was different. Now he was munching on his favorite sausages and smiling between bites, while Jamie gathered up the pieces that didn’t quite make it into his father’s mouth. It took a while. Just as he’d finished breakfast and started into what looked as if it might turn out to be a long reminiscence about the good old 369

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days, the doorbell rang. “Hang on, Dad. I’ll just answer that.” Clattering down the stairs, Jamie checked his reflection in the hall mirror and opened the front door. At once, his throat tightened and he blinked. It was Robert. He looked pale, as if he hadn’t slept for hours. Perhaps he hadn’t. “Robert? You’re here,” he said, as if he couldn’t see that with his own eyes. “You asked me,” he replied, one eyebrow raised, but whether in disapproval or amusement Jamie couldn’t tell. “At least I think that’s what you were saying on the phone. May I come in, please?” Jamie stared at him for a heated moment, saying nothing. Then he pulled Robert inside, edging the door shut with his foot, and enfolded the other man in his arms. They kissed for a long, long time before finally breaking apart for breath. “Who is it, Jamie?” his father called from upstairs. Jamie tried to gather himself together, as if that was even remotely possible. “It’s Robert, Dad,” he yelled, steadying himself on the banister. “He’ll be up to see you soon.” “How lovely,” his father quavered in reply. “Has he come over for the wedding?” “Yes, yes, I think so,” Jamie said as the man he loved smiled and shook his head quietly. In the living room, Robert coughed, walked across to the window creating a dark outline silhouetted against the morning light, and stared out at the garden for a few moments. “Can I get you anything?” Jamie asked, his mind fizzing. “No, thanks. Sorry it’s early. I hope I didn’t wake your father. 370

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How is he?” “He’s fine, thanks. And no, he’s awake. He’s just had breakfast. He’ll get up properly when the nurse gets here. She’s coming in about ninety minutes, later than usual, what with it being a special day.” “Good. Because I wanted to talk to you on your own. With no interruptions.” “Why?” A pause. “Are you going to the wedding then?” “Yes,” Jamie said and then blurted out what he couldn’t hold in, “Why are you here, Robert? You know how things are. What do you want to talk about?” He turned to face Jamie. “I just wanted to know what was going on, that’s all.” “You mean with the wedding. Look, Robert, if this is about David, I’m so sorry about him. He—” “No, it’s not about David. That’s over. Really, it was over even before it began. Though I’m sorry about Lucy. If it matters?” Lucy? She was ancient history, and only a drop of water in the sea compared to what Jamie felt about the man in front of him. He shook his head. “Good. But I didn’t come here to ask about the wedding.” Jamie found he was having trouble formulating any sensible thought at all. “So what did you come here for?” Robert looked him straight in the eye. “I wanted to know what was going on between the two of us, Jamie Chadwick. You see, I can’t… I can’t…” And then his face crumpled, and Jamie could no longer hear what he was saying. He took a step forward, but Robert waved him 371

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away. “No. No,” he said. “I’m sorry. I…I didn’t mean to be like this. I don’t even know why the hell I’m here. Or what good it’s going to do. God, I spent so long on the plane working out what to say to you, what would make you understand, change your mind even, but I can’t. I j-just can’t…” With that, he stopped entirely, no longer able to speak. Instead, he started to sob, right there in Jamie’s living room. Robert Trevelyan, scourge of the Eastern business world, Mr. Elegance personified, never a hair out of place and always with the right word in season, was standing before him out of control. Jamie walked up to him and held him until the fit was over. Only when Robert was calm again and Jamie could be sure of being understood, did he speak. “Look,” he said. “You don’t have to say anything. Just come and make love with me. Will you?” *

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First, though, he checked on his father, who was dozing. Jamie smiled, removed the breakfast tray from harm’s way and briefly touched the old man’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Dad,” he whispered. “I’ll be in to see you soon. And so will Robert. We just need a little time together first.” Later, he stretched out on the sheets next to Robert with the sweat only just beginning to dry on his skin. Robert moved so his face was level with Jamie’s on the pillow. A silence. It seemed like a time for honesty. Something Jamie was slowly getting used to. “I’ve been clubbing,” he said. “In Colchester. Five or six times, since you’ve been out of the country. Not that I did anything 372

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serious, just dancing and kissing, but it didn’t stop me thinking about you. It didn’t get you out of my system.” “Did you enjoy it?” “Yeah, sort of, but they weren’t you.” Jamie glanced at him and caught a faint smile. “And I still wanted to be with you. It won’t happen again. I…I love you.” “And I love you.” Another pause. Then, “I’ve tried to see other people since I’ve been back in Japan, too, but it didn’t work and nothing happened. Neither of them was you.” Jamie turned over. The world and all that meant was beginning to creep back into his consciousness. “But none of this is any good, is it?” he said. “Because of your career, and most of all, because of my father, it’s not as if we can ever do this on a permanent basis. It’s not as if we can ever really be together. God, it’s just not fair.” Robert held him close. “Jamie, stay calm, will you? I’d forgotten how emotional redheads can be.” “I’m not emotional. I can be very cool and logical when…” He realized he didn’t really know when he was ever either cool or logical. Perhaps in the end he just had to be who he was and like it. “Oh, hell, I don’t know when.” “That’s good,” Robert said, turning Jamie back around to face him. “Because I like the crazy, passionate, driven man you actually are. And what I really want to say to that man, and what I’ve wanted to say from the moment I first arrived here but couldn’t, is this—I don’t want to put too many demands or expectations onto you, Jamie. I know how busy your life is, and the kind of responsibilities you have. But, more than anything I want us to be together, properly. As best we can. You can’t leave Limewater, I know. But I can leave Japan. It’s easy enough for me to run my 373

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business from whatever country in the world I want to. If that’s something you want, and if you’re able to consider it. You don’t have to tell anyone about us. Not if you don’t want to. I’ll take whatever you can give me and be happy with it. I swear it. But, for God’s sake, you don’t have to decide anything now. The offer’s there, on the table, and I won’t take it away. All right?” For a moment, Jamie didn’t know what to say. And then he did. He kissed Robert carefully and slowly, then drew away to look him right in the eyes. “Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes. Though I think you’ll discover that rather more people here now know I’m gay than you would imagine,” he said. “And thank you.” Later again, and getting rather too close to the time of the nurse’s arrival, Robert leaned over and nibbled Jamie’s shoulder. “But there is one other thing I’d like to know, too.” “What’s that?” “How come I didn’t make it onto your hit list? What’s so wrong with me?” The world spun for a few seconds before arriving back in its rightful place in front of Jamie’s eyes. “Ah,” he said, gazing up at the ceiling and sighing. “You did see it then, that day you came ’round.” “Of course I did. It was on the table in full view. I couldn’t help but see it.” “So why didn’t you say anything?” “It didn’t seem polite. Besides, it was none of my business then.” “And it is now?” “Yes, it is. What happened to it anyway? I hope you’ve managed to leave at least some of Limewater alive and kicking.” 374

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“It’s gone, you mean bugger.” Jamie laughed, punching Robert lightly on the arm. “I burnt it. I thought I didn’t want to live in a fantasy world any more. I wanted to see what real life might be like.” “That’s a relief because I wasn’t relishing the thought of vouching for your character in a court of law. Which brings my first question back to mind. Why wasn’t I on it?” Jamie closed his eyes for a moment before turning and looking full into Robert’s. Blue-grey, mysterious, but also kind. Then he told Robert the truth. “Because I never wanted to even imagine killing you. No matter what.” Jamie saw him swallow. “Thank you,” he said. “So, now I have some lease of life still to come, I just need to know one thing. Would you and your father like company at the wedding?” Jamie got up and reached for his jeans, just as he heard his father coughing himself awake in the next room and the doorbell went, heralding the arrival of the morning nurse. Funny how, in spite of all these demands on his time, he was suddenly looking forward to the day. “Do you know, I thought you’d never ask,” he said.

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ANNE BROOKE

Anne Brooke’s fiction has been shortlisted for the Harry Bowling Novel Award, the Royal Literary Fund Awards, and the Asham Award for Women Writers. She has also twice been the winner of the DSJT Charitable Trust Open Poetry Competition. She loves reading dark and quirky crime novels and has a secret passion for bird watching and chocolate. Preferably at the same time. She once took a balloon flight in Egypt but spent most of the time screaming, and she hopes she never has to do it again. To learn more about Anne and her writing, please visit her website at: http://www.annebrooke.com *

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Don’t miss Give And Take by Anne Brooke, available at AmberAllure.com! David has spent two years grieving for the loss of his partner to cancer. When he decides to move on, he visits a gay bar for the sole purpose of hooking up with someone—in spite of his concerns that as he’s in his mid-forties, he might be too old. There he meets Jeff, a young barman, and after dancing and making out with other

men, he realizes that Jeff is in fact the one he wants to take home most of all. During their explosive evening together, David discovers a side of himself that he never knew existed but, when the morning comes, can he persuade Jeff that it could be more than a simple one-night stand?

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