All rights reserved worldwide. This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, stored in a retrieval systemor transmitted in any form by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise)withoutthepriorwrittenpermissionoftheAuthor,exceptfor the purposes of reviews. The reviewer mayquote brief passages for the reviewtobeprintedinanewspaper,magazineorjournal.
The characters and events described in this book are fictional. Any resemblancebetweencharactersandanyperson,livingordead,ispurely coincidental.
Thenrose the Kingandmovedhis hostbynight, Andever push'dSir Mordred,league byleague, Backtothe sunsetboundof Lyonesse-Alandof oldupheavenfromthe abyss Byfire,tosinkintothe abyss again; Where fragments of forgottenpeoples dwelt, Andthe longmountains endedina coast Of ever-shiftingsand,andfar away The phantomcircle of a moaningsea
Alfred,LordTennyson:Idylls of the King
CHAPTERONE
Aleksey’s sense of euphoric triumphover his life continued for the next two days, culminatinginthe wedding itself. He had tried to sabotage it with his pointed comments about paganism but now allowed the entirely uncharacteristic thought to cross his mind that he had been wrong about something. He found himself caught up inthe mysticismof the event. Faith, magic, aliens, simulation itdidn’tmatter.His life was soentwinednow withthose whohadroles inthis other joiningthathe almostbecame maudlincontemplatingthe significance ofthe winter boughs whichdecoratedthe little chapel.
The place was packed. He’d revised his initial estimation of thousands of freaky Christians, but theplacewasstill uncomfortablyfull.Fortunately,thesepeopleoftheprayer wereall quitesmall and shrivelled, so they fit well together on the pews. The little church was undeniably beautiful. Every inch of windowsill space had been filled with candles, and the air was redolent with their waxy scent. Every pillar and pew was decorated with holly, bare branches, and starkly beautiful white winter roses.
Some music beganwhichhe did notrecognise, and Emilia and Mollystarted to walkveryslowly downthe aisle, eachcarryinglittle baskets fromwhichtheyscattered petals as theycame. The entire female halfofthe congregationgasped inpleasure. Babushka, who had pride ofplace nextto himon thefrontpew,clappedher handsquietlyandmouthedsilentlyinRussian,‘Oh,mybeautiful girls.’
Sarah had made themwhite floor-length dresses with long intricately buttoned sleeves and highstandingcollars that framed their lovelyfaces. Ontheir heads theywore elaborate crowns of woven flowers in many vibrant colours these wreaths the focus of all eyes in this sombre, mid-winterthemed holyplace. The blooms spoke ofhope for springand the new life it would bring. Theywore their hair long, one flow rubyred and one jet black, bothserene, bothpoised. Alekseysmiled at the concentration on the four-year-old’s face. Whoever had given her a basket of petals to carry and sprinkle as she walked was a genius. Althoughit was midnight, so longpast her bedtime that it was almosttime for the nextone,she was sointentonher duties thatshe appearedas composedandgrave as the youngwomanwalkingbeside her. Whentheyreached the front, theyparted, one to eachside of the altar to wait patiently for the bride. Until this point, Aleksey had not noticed the young curate already hovering at the front. He appeared as many men probably did at this particular juncture in their lives entirelylost and irrelevant to the female momentumbehind the proceedings. At least he did not look drunk or stoned, which is how he’d got through both his marriages. Emilia had the audacityto wink at himwhenhe caught her eye. He scowled back. He had not fullyprocessed their bizarre conversation on the dock in Hugh Town. He was almost sure she’d been joking that she’d noticed his attempts to thwart an incipient romance which hadn’t apparently been happening in the first place and had retaliated as he probably would have done if their situations were reversed: by annoyingthe instigator ofsucha ludicrouslywrongtheory. Buthe also had a sliver ofconvictionthat she’d meant every word of what she’d said: she would bend the universe to have what she wanted. Again,justashewoulddo haddone,anddidnotregretintheleast.
He lowered his scowl, just to let her know he didn’t find her at all funnyand turned pointedlyto stare atthe decorated altar. He’d beengivenstrictinstructions bythe babytyrantnotto lookather in casehemadeher laughandher flowersfell off.
Everyone turned their heads once more as the music began again, the traditional Canon in D played with spine-chilling passion by a young man on the cello. Sarah came down the aisle in a similar white dress to her flower girls, but hers was covered in delicate embroidered flowers of ivory satin thread picked out by tiny seed pearls that seemed to flicker in the candlelight. Aleksey couldnottakehiseyesofftheslow movement.BecauseshewasonBenjaminRider-Mikkelsen’sarm. He could not, even after all these years, believe that this man was his, that he was not sitting there angryand bitter thathe could notletdownhis defences and have the life withBenthathe craved. No scheming, no plotting, no ruiningpeople’s lives. Thatman, undeniablythe mostbeautiful mananyone would ever meet, loved him. Even now, Ben’s gaze locked briefly with his, and with no words spokenatall,he reiteratedhis promise,‘Ilove you,’as loudlyas ifhe’dshouteditabove Pachelbel’s soaringBaroquechords.
When he’d delivered his charge safely to the altar where her brother waited to greet her and put her hand into Daniel’s, Ben sat down alongside him. The cellist continued to play, and the entire chapel rangwithhis beautiful interpretationofthemusic,everyoneheldspellboundbythecandlelight andintricatelyarrangednotes.AndthenAlekseyfeltBen’sfingersentwinewithhisonthepew,outof sight between their pressed thighs. Aleksey blinked and turned his head away a little to study the stained glass, something he’d been doing for many years when life became overly complex for his raw,newlydevelopingfeelings.Thefingerssqueezedalittle,andthemusicendedononefinal drawn outperfectlyplayed note whichseemed to vibrate around the little place ofworship and enfold them all as Martin began with the traditional welcome: ‘We are gathered here together to…’And for the firsttime inhis entire life, Alekseyfeltpartofsomethingwhichhe had always beenatsome pains to dismiss,torevile,tomock: these insignificantlocals withtheir quaintbeliefs these people whohad triedtotakeBenfromhim.Hewas so muchbetter thanthem,somuchcleverer,abillionaire,amaster of the universe who strode through life bending everything to his will. And yet here he was now: included and welcomed, and everythingwas entirelyperfect. EvenSarah dumpy, plain, sillySarah, whom he’d secretly enjoyed watching Molly run rings around and torment with her ferocious intelligence and stubborn wilfulness even Sarah was beautiful tonight. And in all his striving for more more power, more money, more perfection he realised that sometimes less was more, and he’dprobablyhavebeenfar happier ifhe’drealisedthisafew decadesearlier thanhejusthad. He turned his head to regard Ben’s profile as the greengaze followed the ceremony. Thenhe took a firmer hold of the fingers he adored and, closing his eyes for a moment for courage, brought their joined hands out from the darkness into the light and rested them entwined thus on his leg. He felt exposed,his feelings tooraw tobebaredso.After awhile,this senseofbeinginthespotlightwas so acute that he knew he was being observed, the old familiar prickle on the back of his neck almost burning. As ifjustreleasinga crick, he turned his head to the end ofthe pew. The moron, sittingnext to his boyfriend, was studyinghim. Itwas always a little hard to sayifhe was ever actuallythinking, butatthatmomenthisminddidappear engageduponsomedeepcalculation. He turned backto face front. He’d never seenwhyhe should have to change to suitother people’s convenience. Yes, obviously, he’d applied this to other things inthe past, butnow he was applyingit toholdingBenjaminRider-Mikkelsen’shandinpublic.
They reached the end, the rings were exchanged, and Mr and Mrs Kennedy turned to accept the congregation’s congratulations, and suddenly everyone sitting behind the family’s front pew surged to their feetinunisonandbegantosing,swayingandclapping,
‘Stamp your feet and praise the Lord, clap your hands and find His beat, sing His songs and spread His love, for the Lord is in the dance. Find your salvation in the beat, find God’s rhythm in your soul, He is master of the choir, lift His praises higher and higher. ’
Benstaredaroundaspuzzledashewas,butSarahwaslaughingwith tears in her eyes, gently chastising her new husband who had evidently planned this as a surprise for her. Theykept singingas the couple made their way slowly back up the aisle, grasping hands that stretched out to blessthem.
‘Stamp your feet and follow the Lord, on a path that’s hard and steep, lift your voice to echo His, and the beat will make you leap.’
Molly swept up by the gospel beat of the song and the clapping, or perhaps just frantically overtired, began to dance in the aisle, her dark hair flying out as she spun, holding the hem of her dress high, petals cascadingfromherbasket,flowercrownaskew.
By the time they emerged into the darkness of the New Year’s first hour,SarahandDaniel weredancingtogether.Someoftheirfriends had sacrificedtheirattendanceattheceremonytosecretlylightupthebower thathadbeencreatedforthenewlymarriedcoupletowalkunder,andso as she danced, Sarah’s dress became illuminated by hundreds of lanterns, and she appeared more spirit of the woods than bride. The entire walkway from the chapel to the huge marquee had been covered with boughs and lanterns and ribbons, and as the congregation had begun to outpour from the little stone building, they’d grabbed the candles and so formed a candlelight procession behind the bride and groom, still singing, some of the men whoopingand stampingtheir feet totheincreasinglyfreneticrenditionofthesong,whichonlyurgedthem
on. ‘Clap your hands and stamp your feet, and you will find our master’s beat.’
Followingbehind themall, the last to leave, he and Benstood together, hand inhand, inthe little porch. Spontaneously, Ben reached up his free hand, cupped him around the back of the neck and kissedhimdeeply,restingtheir foreheadstogether whentheir lipsparted.Quietly,Benmurmured, ‘Iremember takingyouintoachurchonceandfearingyou’dcombust.’ ‘DidI?’
Benlaughedsoftly,givinghima little shake ofadmonishment.‘Have ItoldyourecentlythatIlove you?’
Openly hand in hand, they walked under the lanterns, following the sounds of the singing and laughter, and ifanythingsaid Ilove you, thenAlekseyreckoned this small actdid. No one else knew, buttheydid. Itwas the firsttime theyhad acknowledged their relationship insucha public way, and that it was at a weddingseemed evenmore significant somehow. Different kinds of desire. Different kindsofcommitment.Intheend,itwasall thesame. Itwasjustlove.
ChapterTwo
Afew days later, not yet dawn, Alekseywoke to a pair of greeneyes observinghimintently. It was becomingsomethingofahabit,andhehadworkedoutbynow thatBenwaspossiblydoingsomething nefarioustohimwhilehewasstill asleeptomakehimwakeso.
As usual, being studied so closely could be good or bad, and he cast his mind back about his behaviour over the last few days as he came slowly to consciousness. Then he grinned, felt immediatelyguiltybutsaw a matchingsmirkofglee cross the dotingfather’s face: she was gone. For a whole week.
The baby tyrant, bodyguards and kitten in tow, had departed for St Albans the previous evening. Ben pretended to cock his head, listening for something then murmured slyly, ‘Nope. No sound of little footsteps. Just us.’To illustrate his point, he pounced. Laughing, Aleksey tried to fend himoff, butitwas aweakgestureintendedtobedefeated,anditdidn’ttakelongfor Bentobestraddlinghim, elbowsonhischest,chinproppeduponhishands,hisintensescrutinyreturned.
‘Hmm.IbeganitinKittiwake all thepunishmentsyoudeservedbutmissedoutonthere.’ ‘Harsh.’
‘But also true. So…’Aleksey gasped in genuine pain when Ben’s finger dug straight beneath his ribs,andhetriedtocurl up,buttheweightpinninghimdownwasfar tooheavy.Obviously,Benknew this and wasn’tworried his victimwas goingto escape anytime soon. He reached a hand behind him. Alekseywentverystill.Benwouldn’tpermanentlydamagehim,buthewouldhurthimifhefeltinthe mood. Sometimes, recovering fromBen’s rare but effective punishments could put himout of action for anythingelsefunfor atleastaday.
Trying to avert such a consequence of Ben’s playful mood, Aleksey muttered, ‘Do you know the wordfor someonewholikesinflictingpain?’
‘Yes.You.’
‘I don’t like it. I do it for your bene ugh.’He held his breath, eyes closed, as Ben’s incredibly powerful grip began to crush his testicles. He could only hope his confidence that Ben liked these almostas muchas he did wasn’tmisplaced. He swallowed deeplyand finished his illustrative point. ‘Asadist.’
Alekseyheard somethinginthis he didn’t muchlike. Turn-the-fuck-over Benjaminwas one thing, butthatcommandhadsomethingofcoldcalculationinitthatwasominous.
‘No.’
Benbentdownagain,pursinghis lips,consideringthis refusal.‘Don’tforce me tomake you you know Ican.’
Alekseywobbledhishandprovocatively.
It provoked Ben, anyway. With a surge of power, he grabbed the offending hand and brought it
over to the other side of his body, pinning it there with one hand, and with the twist he’d created, flipped himover as easilyas a drowningmanmightbe putinto the recoveryposition, excepthe was facedowninthepillow andbeingheldthere.Again,heassumedBenwouldn’tactuallysuffocatehim, soheheldstill,waitinghismoment.
Itdidn’tcome.
Bentookthe handhe was pinning,andbefore Alekseyknew whathadhappeneditwas fastenedto thetoplegs ofthebed,andatthis exactmomentwhenhesaw his error,theother handwas seizedand tied as well. It wouldn’t have beenthat muchof a problem, except Ben, havinghad this planned and the ties alreadyinplace, grabbed one ankle and gotthattrapped before he could rise to his hands and knees and fight back. One legwas still free however, so he swungthat as best as he could and got a bitofakickin.Bendidn’ttakeitinthespirititwasintended,however,andonlysnortedinscorn.
When he was entirely bound, spread like a prone Vitruvian Man, Ben announced, clearly very pleased with himself, ‘Right. Breakfast. Good idea,’ and left him to it. When he returned, he had indeed brought a tray of food for himself. He sat munching his toast and marmalade with genuine relish, cross-legged next to him. He pointed out quite reasonably, and kindly, that he’d offer him some,onlyhewouldn’tbeabletoeatit.
Tornbetweenrage and extreme amusementatBen’s audacity, Alekseywas effectivelysilenced in response. Benhad done this to himbefore, once notinjest, and could be entirelyunpredictable about releasinghim.Sometimes threats worked,sometimes contrition,butonceor twicehe’djusthadtoput upwiththeindignityuntil Benhadhadhisfun.
Finally, Benputhis traydownonthe floor and thengotcomfortable alongside him, head propped upononeelbow.‘Youdon’tremember whatdaythisis,doyou?’
Fuck. Aleksey suspected he wasn’t the only man in the world who sensed an immediate and extremely unpleasant hint of danger lurking just around the corner at being asked such a question. It created a lose-lose scenario: admittinghe did know butthathe’d justignored its significance, or that hedidn’tknow becauseitwasn’tsignificantto him were probablyequallybadresponses.Butthenhe rememberedthatBenwasalsoamansomutteredsomethingalongtheselines,whichmadeBensmile. ‘It’sayear agotodayyoucamehomefromthehospital broken.’ Alekseyfrowned.‘Really?You’verememberedthat?’
‘I have.’Ben began a slow, almost unconscious stroking of one of the stretched arms. ‘I’ve been thinking.’ Oh, God crossed Aleksey’s mind, but given his current situation, he felt it best not to vocalise this. ‘I saw you at Christmas when Jennifer gave Mol Mol the pictures of Kate. I know what youwere thinking.’ I sincerely hope not flicked rapidly across his mind at that, but once more he onlygrunted inresponse. ‘So, here’s the thing, Iguess. WhenIwoke up this morningand realised whatthedaywas,Igottothinkingbacktoyouleavingme that’snotwhyyou’retetherednow,bythe way. No, Irealised thatyoustill don’tgetit. Itold SqueezyinHarry’s gardeninTopsham, butIguess I should have said it directlyto you: I don’t care what you’ve done, and I don’t care what youdo in the future. Whatever you’ve done, Nik. I don’t care anymore. Tell me, don’t tell me, but nothing you’vedonewill ever changethewayIfeel aboutyou.’
‘Sonottellingyou is anoptionthen?’
Bensnorted softly. ‘Yeah, thatmightbe the bestone.’He lowered his eyes to watchthe repetitive stroking, apparently not even realising the effect his long eyelashes spread on his cheeks had on the alreadyintimatemoment.
‘Sometimes Iknow exactlywhat you’re thinking most ofthe time ifIput mymind to it, but then there are those moments like with the album when I look up and there’s that stranger I met in Londonstaringbackat me withthat unfathomable gaze you’ve gone, and he’s sittingthere wearing your skin.’He lifted his eyes once more. ‘I don’t want the dayto come whenyoucan’t fight himoff. Whenyoujustupandtrytorunawayfromhimagain.’
‘Iwasleaving,not ’
‘Yeah,Iknow.Whatever.’
‘I’vetoldyou,Ben: Iwill never leaveyou.’
‘Yes, I know. But youhave a wayof justifyingthings to yourself that seemto make total sense to youatthetime.See,Idon’tthinkwhatyourationalisedistrueatall.Youweren’tleaving me not the me who loved youor the me who youthoughtdidn’tanymore. Inyour weird mind, youwere leaving him thestranger youusedtobe.’
Aleksey sensed that pointing out the complete lack of logic in this wouldn’t help his cause so pretended to be taking it seriously. He could tell by Ben’s expression that he wasn’t fooled and so shookone ofhis restraints.‘Well,I’mnotgoinganywhere rightnow itseems.’Nodding,Benbeganto undothewristtie.Alekseywrinkledhisnose,confused.
‘Thatendsthatfunthen?’
‘You’remissingthepoint.’
Aleksey pondered this as Ben reached across and undid his other tether. He rose onto his knees, still fastened at the ankles but now able to stretch and release some kinks. Ben was in the same position and shuffled around so they were face to face, some parts now touching, which made them bothglance downfor a moment. Bencupped his face and broughttheir lips together, and whatstarted as a gentle kiss turned into a hungry sharing of desire. Aleksey ran his fingers over Ben’s short hair andmurmured,
‘God,Ilovekissingyou.’
Ben responded by sliding his hand around and cupping one firm cheek, crushing them tightly together andwhispered,‘Doyougetitnow?’
‘Squeeze harder and I’ll let youknow.’Before Bencould reply, Alekseypushed himto one side, dragginghimintoa better positionandmountedhim.Butstill restrainedbyhis ankles,he couldn’tget close enoughor thrustas hardas he wanted.Benshovedbackagainsthimthendiditagain.Theyboth moaned at the same time and came, Ben’s fingers clawing the rumpled sheets, and his raking down Ben’s flared ribs. Theywere bothpantingwhenhe collapsed uponthe hotbodybeneathhim. After a long, blissful moment as he lay on the warmskin, listening to their hearts beating in sync, he heard oncemore,
‘No? Hmm, let me think then. That if I run leave again, I’d better do it more sneakily so you don’t catchme and tie me up again? Wait!Ah!Ihave it Itrap myself but onlyyoucanset me free? No! Don’t! I get it. I amthat god the mythical bringer of all knowledge to weaker mortals ow chainedtoa rock fuck ’He gotnofurther.While attemptingtountie his restraints sohe couldfight back, Ben got a few savage digs in before pinning him down, this time by weight alone, and penetratinghim hard.Onehandonhis neck,onefeedinghimselfin,Bentooknoprisoners,andeven
thoughonlyonelegwasstill trapped,Alekseydidn’tfighttheentryatall.Helayprone,wrungoutbut more than willing for Ben to shoot another load inside him. He wouldn’t have gone anywhere else, evenifhecould.
And in this private confession, he got what Ben had been trying to tell him: restrained, unrestrained it didn’t matter anymore. They were bound to each other by promises his to be a good man, Ben’s to believe he was, despite knowingbetter. Perhaps the weddinghad had more effect on Ben than he’d let on. Sitting in that little chapel with the notes of the cello still vibrating through everyone there, he’d studied Ben’s profile as their fingers had been joined between them, and when Martin had said for better or for worse it was possible that Ben had heard in this an echo of his declaration to the moron. Weren’t those traditional words the same as saying I don’t care that you havebeenanevil man;I’ll abidewithyouevenifyoubringthatevil downuponusagain?
Ithadtakenayear,afew deadmenandwomen,morethanafew wreckedboats,andonefearsome scar, but here they were. And the past didn’t matter. If its ghosts resurfaced from time to time a photograph, a piece of music, a mother they would always face these challenges together. He felt Benspill deep inside him, grunted atthe sensationofthe weightcollapsingontop ofhim, and inthis wetjoiningdriftedoffintoa dreamwhere someone was askinghimurgently do you get it yet, do you get it now,andknew,as yousometimes didindreams,thatthis was notBen’s voice,andthe question wasonehereallydidneedtogetrightthistime.
ChapterThree
The sunhad still hardlyrisenonthe tor Alekseywas watchingfromhis warmdent inthe bed, when heaskedidly,‘Whatdoyouwanttodotoday?’
Bendidn’treply.Couldn’treally hehadhismouthfull.
Alekseyrelaxed back, head onfolded arms and waited. After their activityso far thatmorning, he reckoned he’d have a long wait. Eventually, Ben appeared to come to the same conclusion and rose slowly up him, licking as he came. Aleksey repeated his question, and Ben glanced out at the frosty Januaryday,smirking.‘I’mdoingit.’
Aleksey snagged him back to his side and knuckle-rubbed his hair and they lay entwined, just thinking their own thoughts and not needing anyone or anything else. This, however, wasn’t acceptable to other members ofthe family, and after another few moments, theybothheard a familiar click,clickingcomingacrosstheswimlane.Alekseymuttered,‘You’dbetter takehimout.’
Bensnorted.‘Becausehe’s my dog?’
Radulf climbed up alongside them and settled down to be patiently demanding, as was his selfappointedrole.
Whentheydid eventuallyemerge into the daylight, theywere glad they’d beenforced out. The sun was low ina ceruleansky, almost blindinginits intensity, despite the lackofreal warmth. The dogs began to skitter excitedly over the frost to the empty marquee, sniffing and adorning tent pegs when they got there. Ben, hands in his pockets, suddenly suggested, ‘Let’s go to Timbo’s. I need to take Squeezy’stoolsback.Wecanmoochlunchoffthemfor achange.’
Unable tothinkofa goodreasonwhyhe didn’twanttosee Ben’s twouseless friends,he shrugged and trailed after the other three towards the garage. Within a few minutes, all four of them were emerging from lanes covered in bare branches up onto the barren wilderness of Dartmoor, and it struckhimonce more how beautiful the place was inall its seasons. Itwas hard evenfor a foreigner used to far harsher climes to find anythingnoteworthyaboutJanuaryinEngland, buthe’d discovered the moors were an exception to this general rule. The tors were stark and desolate, and the entire place held a sense ofthe slumberingofsome greatpower held inabeyance. He mussed onthe theory that if witnessingdeathmade youhorny, perhaps excessive sexmade youappreciate the deceptively dead landscape of winter-barren moorland. When he saw Ben easing himself slightly against the black leather seat, he grinned, opened his window and breathed in the cold air, pockets of pristine white snow catching his eye as they sped past. Ben had declared the old days gone, that the past didn’tmatter,butAlekseyknew thepastalways informedthepresent.Whatever goodtheyhadsensed in each other, they had discovered it during those years of pain and confusion, of masks, and of lies told in shadows. Here on the moors, just the two of them, it seemed to him as if they relived the essence of those times again: freedom, possibility, passion. He turned to find Benholdinghis phone towardshim,laughingathisexpressionasthewindwhippedhishair,andaphotoclicked.‘Perfect.’ Hesmiledself-deprecatingly.‘Iam.Ihavebeenreliablyinformedso.Andeyes?Road?’ Ben stowed his phone at this familiar chastisement, and they continued. As they bumped into the cobbled driveway of the old cottage, Tim came to the door, wiping his hands on a tea towel. He frowned toward the back of the car and then stepped out as if to get a better look. Radulf and PB,
released fromtheir imprisonment, pushed past his legs and went ona snackmission, as theyalways did.Ben,fishingthebagoftoolsoutoftheboot,calledover, ‘Where’sSqueezy?I’vebroughthistoolkitback.I’ll putitinthegarage.’
At this, Tim suddenly wrapped his arms around his body, turned abruptly and disappeared back inside.
As it was still his cottage really, despite generous gestures made to annoy the moron, Aleksey ducked beneath the lintel without an invitation and went to see if a bit more politeness from his employee was in the offing. Tim was indeed boiling the kettle, but this seemed more a gesture of unconscious Englishness thanthe prelude to doinganythingmore hospitable. Alekseysat down, also uninvited and waited for his better half to appear. Bencame inbefore the silence got awkward and, oblivioustosomestrangetensionthat he’d noticedstraightaway,begantoraidthebiscuitstash. ‘Heout?Weshould’vephonedfirst.Sorry.’
Timcame tothetable,sittingdownwitha slightlyprecious,pinched,martyredexpression.Behind him, Ben raised an eyebrow, and Aleksey gave a fraction of a shrug in reply. Then in the spirit of beingagoodfriend,heannouncedbrightly,‘Well,we’ll headofftoapubthenifyou’rebusy…’ Bennarrowedhiseyesathimandsatdownaswell.‘Whatthefuck’sgoingon,Tim?’
Timwastappinghisphoneslightlymanicallyandthenexplainedinarush,‘He’sintownwithyou. Apparently. Your phone packed up, so you wanted a new one. Apparently. He drove over early this morningto hitthe sales. Said he’d be all day…apparently.’He turned his phone and showed Benthe screen. Vaguely interested in this (mainly because he was picturing the moron escaped his domesticationandconsequentlynaked,spread-eagledandtiedtoabedwithastranger),hekneltupin his seat to squint at the texts as well. The first message fromthe imbecile had been sent at seven, a time Alekseyhadn’trealised existed, and read Pretty Boy says needs new phone his broke so going to town. Want anything? Timhad repliedatnine get milk and the moronhad texted back k. Thentwo hours ago, he’d sent fussy tosser can’t decide be back late or might stay night and Tim had not apparently replied to this yet. As if reading their minds as he took his phone back, he murmured absentmindedly,
‘Iwas goingto tell himI’d come over as well. But he’s got the car.’He bit his lip and offered to no one inparticular, ‘WhenJohnfirstshagged Sebastianitwas inour bed, so Iguess this is a step up fromthat.’
Benseemed at a loss what to say. He’d beenthroughthat break-up withhis friend and beingthen ina slightlyfragile positionhimselfhadnotfound iteasyto accept.Alekseysettled downinthe chair once more and offered thoughtfully, ‘I could walkinonyounaked inthe shower againif that would help.’
It raised a smile on the extremely wan face next to him. Tim adjusted his glasses. ‘He’s a good liar.Iwouldhavephonedyou,Ben,obviously,except ’ ‘ hesaidmyphonewasbroken…’
Timnoddedglumly.
Alekseydidn’tthinkthis was that good a lie whenhe considered some ofhis butdrawinga small
Timdropped his phone as if it had bittenhim. ‘No! I don’t want to hear himlie.’Alekseycaught Ben’s eye, and he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Ben was also remembering over forty ignoredphone calls the awful nightthathadalmosttornthemapart.He sniffed,rememberingthatpain and pulled outhis ownphone, remarkingaffably, ‘Ido,’and tapped the necessaryspeed-dial number. He putitonspeaker and laid itonthe table betweenthem. As itrang, Timactuallybacked away, his chair fallingover behind himuntil he grit his teethand bravelysat backdown, grippingthe table for strength.
‘Yeah?Whad’yawant?I’mabitbusy.’
Alekseycouldn’thelpasmall feral smileatthisopener ashepicturedjustwhatthatindustrymight entail but realised Benwasn’t impressed, so snapped, inhis public tone withthe moron, ‘Where are you?Iwantthistentthingremovedfrommygrounds.’
He bithis lipandtriedtolookcensorious,realisingfor the firsttime thatneither Bennor the good professor knew thathis relationshipwiththe idiotwhentheywere alone was verydifferenttothe one whentheywere all together. ‘Stop pissingaround. How longwill it take youto get here? Where are you?’
‘Yeah, like no. If I wanted a threesome it would be withyouand PrettyBoy, but youdon’t share, ‘parently. Gotta go something’s come up. Fortunately. Kiss, kiss,’and making revolting smooching noisesashesaidthislast,Michael Heathcotehungup.
Timwas about to rise again, but Aleksey laid a hand on his armthen actually tightened the hold whenthe smaller mantried to pull away. ‘Sitdown!’Timdropped like a stone. Alekseysenta quick textthenleanedback.‘Wait.’
‘Fuck!’ Ben got up and began to make the tea then wrenched open a cupboard and produced a bottleofwhisky,sloppingsomeintothreelargetumblers.‘Fuck!’
Tim was not able to add anything to Ben’s summation of events, for he was plainly only just holdinghis emotions dammedbehindgrittedteethandaclenchedthroat.Aleksey’s phonebuzzedwith a text,andhe readit,sayingas he did,‘Idonotbuyanyofyouphones because Iama generous man.’ He frowned and added withgenuine confusion, ‘Peytonsays he’s onSt Mary’s or that is the tower hepingedoff.’
Timsat straighter. ‘He is inour bed! Oh, my, God! He’s takensomeone to Guillemot, and he’s in our bedthere!’
Aleksey thought the intense little man seemed overly focused on the location of fucking someone else, rather than the act itself. He could attest to the fact that cheating could be done anywhere, anyhow ontables, desks, inelevators, over the bonnet of a jeep and inbed was usuallythe least likelyplace.‘Whywouldhegoall thewaytoScilly?They’vegotexcellenthotelsinExe ’Catching Ben’s eye, he muttered, ‘I am trying to be helpful. If I was going to for fuck’s sake! I mean is it remotelylikelyhe’s takensomeone all that wayto just whenhe could…’He decided to quit while he was ahead and sat morosely staring out at the moors. Ben collected all three empty glasses and
