Fresh Cut Glass

Carter Seagrove Book Boutique Edition

By

Alp Mortal

Text Copyright© 2014 Alp Mortal

www.alpmortal.weebly.com

www.carterseagrove.weebly.com

All Rights Reserved

Table of Contents

Author’s Note

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Author’s Note

‘Fresh Cut Glass’ is a medium length gay romance written for an adult audience. The sexual relationship between two men is described within these pages.

Rory heads back to the Isle of Wight at the invitation of life-long friend Trevor. The happy reunion is overshadowed by an event which took place many years before and which begins to raise its ugly head. Meantime, Rory meets Liam and their relationship blossoms. It appears that events are on a trajectory which will uncover an unpalatable truth; Rory is given some information which sparks an argument with his best friend and ultimately leads to a showdown which puts Rory in danger.

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And visit my website: www.alpmortal.weebly.com for updates on the next gay romantic story or crime thriller which I’m working on. And stop by www.carterseagrove.weebly.com to find out what projects I am working on with Chambers Mars and to see the new arrivals in the Book Boutique, our independent book store.

Thank you!

Alp Mortal

August 2014

Dedication

With thanks to the Circle, as always, for their support in helping me to achieve my goal.

With love

Alp

Chapter One

“A return, please.”

“When were you planning on travelling back, sir?”

“Not sure.”

“An open return is twenty-three pounds, okay?”

“Fine; thanks …”

Boarding the catamaran for the Isle of Wight was a sign of Rory’s faith in Trevor’s suggestion that ‘it’ll be good for you’. At twenty-three pounds for a journey of fifteen minutes, ‘it had better be a fucking sight better than just good for me!’ Rory had tacitly demanded.

Trevor was Rory’s best pal and whereas Rory had moved off of the island, Trevor had stayed. Rory had prospered and then sunk like everyone else. Trevor had prospered and had continued to prosper. Having said that, it had been his father’s business which he’d inherited, so not something he’d had to build up from scratch. Trevor had to have worked hard, Rory admitted; no one’s business could coast through this crunch but Trevor seemed to be faring better than most.

“Come and stay for a while; help out if you feel the urge.”

“Really?”

“Sure! We haven’t seen each other for ages.”

“Okay; I could do with a quiet patch, just to re-group and decide what I’m going to do next … Next Saturday then?”

“Fantastic!”

Packing two suitcases and popping his laptop into its slip cover heralded departure. Rory had never been one to put down roots as you would say, whereas Trevor lived in the ancestral farmhouse near Brook. He operated the business from the yard and the barn; a scaffolding business that seemed to be immune to the down-turn, though on the island the development of new property for the buy-to-let market seemed to have no end.

OoO

“Hey, Rory!”

“Trevor!”

“You look like a ghost; what the fuck have you been doing?”

“Surviving … and not doing very well. You on the other hand look ten years younger and ten kilos lighter; you bitch!”

“Veganism!”

“So says the man who once ate a pig for a dare!”

“Veronica; not just any pig.”

“Sow; not pig.”

“Get in the car! Is that all of your gear?”

“Yup! You know me.”

They slipped out of the car park of the Cat’ terminal and crawled at five miles an hour down the pier to the esplanade at Ryde.

“How long’s it been?”

“It’s been eight years since you were last down at the farm and five since the last time I saw you.”

“Shit, Trevor! Really?”

“Yup! Wait ‘til you see the house; major refurb’. Your room has the perfect view of the sea now; changed the skylight for a proper window …”

“My room?”

“Your room …”

The silence was dominated by the processing of the information taking place within Rory’s head. To him, it felt as though Trevor had handed him a kind of fait accompli; had shown his hand and it had been a Royal Flush; no arguments, despite not knowing what the bone of contention might have been.

“My room …”

“Your room … it’s chalk white, like the cliffs.”

“I love that walk to the monument and back before dinner.”

“Be my guest. The coastal path is still navigable, although the beach is safer.”

“Do you still have the dog?”

“Dogs; Jake is getting old so I got a puppy to train up.”

“What about-”

“Will’? Left and didn’t come back … don’t have time for that at the moment. The business is booming and I can’t afford to take my eye off of the ball.”

“Can’t afford to leave your eye on the balls you mean.”

The little forced dry humpf telegraphed that the subject of relationships was off limits.

To emphasise the point, Trevor remained silent until they cleared Newport and were heading along the Bowcombe Road.

“The Archaeology place is still there,” commented Rory but it was only to open up the conversation again.

“Nothing much changes here; as you well know. Grace still has the shop and Robert is still building boats ...”

The comments were inane, neutral and poor deflectors.

“… sorry, Rory … men are a sore subject.”

“Sorry … how’s Tricia?”

“Holding her own … now there’s someone who might want some help if, as they say, the season is gonna be a bumper one.”

“Selling ice cream?”

“There are worse things … what do you want to do?”

“Re-focus … no idea!”

“Relax … at least here there’s peace and quiet and plenty of excuses to go walking on the beach … stay for as long as you want; no worries.”

“Thanks … I really missed you.”

“I missed you too …”

OoO

“Oh my God!”

“What did I tell you? Major refurb’.”

“It’s beautiful … and you’ve rebuilt the stone arch!”

“The path was re-laid and you can get down on to the beach now … still got the launch if you want to use it.”

“Is Tricia still living with you?”

Did the silence signal another landmine?

“She does … but she keeps herself to herself for the most part.”

Parked up, the boys carried the bags in and were immediately assaulted by the dogs.

“Bruno! Get down!!”

“What is he?”

“Heinz; evidence suggests a Staffie – Pointer cross … mad as a barrel load of frogs … GET DOWN!”

Jake sniffed Rory, establishing that the comparative stranger was friend and slumped back in his basket.

“Take the bags straight up and then we’ll get a drink …”

They moved through the kitchen into the hall and mounted the stone staircase to the huge gallery style landing.

“Yours is at the end, up those funny stairs; the light comes on automatically.”

They ascended the little wooden staircase at the end of the landing and up to the room which occupied about a third of the roof space.

“Oh, wow!”

“You like?”

“I love it … are you sure about this?”

“Of course I am; for as long as you want. Dump the bags and we’ll get the kettle on and then take the dogs out before I start rustling up dinner.”

“I can cook …”

“I remember … but can you cook vegan?”

“Tofu!”

“Yeah … there’s a bit more to it than that. I’d planned pizza for tonight in any case.”

“Good call; break me in gently!”

The innuendo did not need to be acknowledged in any obvious way; both smiled however, remembering just how they had lost their virginity all those summers ago.

“There’s Wi-Fi; you don’t need a code.”

“Great! I would like to do some writing if nothing else.”

“Tea or coffee … or something stronger?”

“Tea … I should have bought some wine.”

“Stocked up … know you of old; and there’s an unopened bottle of vodka in the freezer!”

“Oh God!”

“Pace yourself!”

They drank a tea at the kitchen table and Trevor recounted all the details of the refurbishment; something he was proud of and justly so. Then they took the dogs out, using the garden path to the beach. The stone archway had been rebuilt and the gate was a new solid oak one with a proper lock. For now the gate was unlocked.

From the gate, the path zigzagged to the beach in three switchbacks across the face of the little cliff.

“Cost more to do this than most of the rest; worth it though.”

The tide was out and it gave the dogs a chance to run amok, especially Bruno who had boundless energy. Jake was happy to mooch with the guys as they sauntered in the direction of Freshwater.

“This can be one of my jobs!”

“Morning, noon and night; help yourself. I’ve got a lot of work on just now.”

“I’d offer to help but you know me and a hammer!”

“Walk the dogs and cook dinner; that’ll be the best way you could help. I’ve got the gang for the rest; good lads for the most part.”

“Anyone batting for our team?”

Trevor looked at him and quizzed his eyebrows whilst quirking his lips.

“You off the leash then?”

“Des’ went and decided he preferred the view from Spain … broke my heart. I’m not looking for anything serious.”

“Liam is but easily distracted; so if you don’t mind getting let down, help yourself. John still works behind the bar at the pub …”

“Does he? You say it like I’d be interested.”

“You were once.”

“Once bitten and twice running screaming in the other direction. He’s a monster in all the wrong departments.”

“I think he’s calmed down a lot since his Dad passed away.”

“You’re much calmer.”

“I loved Dad as you know; but he had his ways and no one could do it better than he could … just set in his ways. Don’t get me wrong; I miss him … I don’t miss the arguments.”

“Fancy a swim?”

“Are you insane?”

“YES!”

Rory tore off the shirt and shucked off the trainers and jeans to then run headlong into the water, screaming as he did. Trevor stood on the beach, arms folded, just watching and shaking his head.

“IT’S FANTASTIC!” Rory bellowed.

“Take your word for it …”

Trevor headed back up with the dogs whilst Rory whooped and re-lived some of his childhood’s fondest memories. If Trevor had been prepared to get in too then Rory could have re-lived some of his best teenage memories. The past, it seemed, did not have the same attraction for the man who Rory had simply called Best.

After the water began to numb him completely he got out and grabbed his things to head back to the house. Some guy further down the beach caught his eye; the man was fishing from the surf line. It was John.

Rory knew that John must have seen him, seen Trevor and the dogs, yet he hadn’t come up and said ‘hi’.

“Suit yourself; you were a crap fuck anyway …”

Divested of the wet togs and wrapped in a towelling robe, Rory parked himself at the kitchen table to watch Trevor top the pizzas.

“I thought you meant bought ones.”

“Prefer my own.”

“Is Tricia joining us?”

“Maybe tomorrow; she’s … busy.”

“Too busy to come and say ‘hello’?”

“After what happened, I think we’re lucky that she still wants to live here.”

“He died, Trevor; despite what he did, he died …”

“He lives on in Tricia’s mind; what’s left of it. Open the wine!”

Whilst the pizzas were cooking, Trevor showed Rory the outbuildings, specifically the barn because the freezers were out there.

“Wow … you re-did the whole roof!”

“Knew that wood we salvaged after the ‘87 storm would come in handy; not a single metal fixing, all peg-jointed. She’s my pride and joy!”

“What is that?”

“It’s the rig for bending the planks for the boat repairs. Robert designed it and I built it for him.”

The rig looked like a hump-backed bridge, standing waist height. Two sets of uprights had been sunk into the floor, parallel to each other; a metre separating the two rows. The uprights stood very close together. Between the opposing uprights, scaffold poles had been fixed, creating a ‘bed’, a curved ‘bed’. Other poles could be fixed to the uprights and then lowered to create what was in effect a giant clamp.

“Robert heats the planks until they become pliable. He lays them on the bed and then lowers the top rails to clamp the planks down which then take on the desired shape.”

“How does he heat the planks?”

“That over there, the thing that looks like a coffin, is a steam bath. He slots them into it, closes the lid and steams them … very quick and cheap. He’s making more money from this than I do from the scaffolding now.”

“You renting him the space?”

“He’s family; he repaired the launch for free.”

“Cool!”

“Pizzas will be ready; c’mon!”

Age and travelling forbade a long session and the boys said ‘goodnight’ at around eleven o’clock. Rory carefully made his way to the attic room and threw himself onto the bed.

“Less wine and more water!”

After what could have been no more than half an hour, he woke up and felt steady enough to find the loo. Through a door into what was the middle third of the attic, he found a modern bathroom. After a cold splash and quick clean of his teeth, he headed back to his bed but not before he’d stuck his head out of the window. In the moonlight, he could see Trevor on the beach with the dogs; Bruno was bounding around whilst Jake was just ambling beside him.

“Why do I have the feeling that you’re not telling me something?”

Chapter Two

Breakfast smelled good and promised to be the Full English of their youth; served up by Trevor’s mum after they’d got up early to go out and pick up the crab baskets.

“Veggie sausages, tofu bacon, potato cakes, beans, toms, fried bread and mushrooms …”

“No eggs?”

“No eggs … vegan I am, vegan you is … not that you need to lose weight; you’re too bloody scrawny in fact …”

“I was never as meaty as you.”

“You’ve got no arse.”

“Been worn away.”

“Too much information.”

“Eroded by the office chair and an over-active adrenal gland.”

“Run that dog ragged and we’ll talk over-active!”

“After breakfast … any coffee going?”

“Sure … there’s oat milk; I make it myself.”

“Jesus! You have got it bad.”

“Not a day off sick in two years.”

“That doesn’t mean you weren’t sick. It means you soldiered on regardless just to prove a point.”

“Whatever it means; it means I’m the healthiest I’ve been for a very long time. Wanna go out in the boat today?”

“You bet!”

“I’m working all week in Newport … you’re gonna have to take care of yourself.”

“No worries; dogs, dinner … selling ice cream.”

“Tricia is joining us for a late lunch …”

“Good!”

“Say nothing or deal with the consequences.”

“Like I would!”

“Just saying … eat!”

“Bully …”

“Princess …”

“Fat git …

“Don’t make me say it.”

Rory just smiled, knowing this was one bout he would always win if he riled Trevor enough to make him say it. The nickname, earned at school, never bothered Rory that much. In fact, he enjoyed it … secretly. It drew attention to a part of his anatomy that was about as big as most men could wish for. It riled Trevor when he used it because it highlighted just how poorly he was endowed in the same department.

“Twat lips!”

“I warned you, Rory … donkey dong.”

“It just sounds better and better!”

“It used to make you cry.”

“Until I realised why all the girls wanted to be my friend … and some of the boys too.”

“Big doesn’t mean clever.”

“No Trev’ … big is just beautiful!”

“Fuck off!”

“C-h-i-p-o-l-a-t-a!”

“That’s just mean.”

Rory just kept on smiling.

“It’s what you do with it that counts.”

“Yes, Trev’ … I know!”

It did used to make him cry; no one wants to be different at that age.

Breakfast ended good-naturedly enough and after the dogs had been run, the boys took out the launch to head down to Freshwater and back.

“Runs like a dream now; Robert did a good job of the mechanics as well.”

“Tell me to fuck off … but … you can’t be happy being alone; you never were.”

“Fuck off …”

“You’re really not bothered now …”

“I’m really not that bothered now; plenty of time once the business is really sorted and I can ease off the gas.”

“We’re not getting any younger, Trevor.”

“The business is everything right now; ten years and I can retire.”

“Retire now; like me.”

“And live on what?”

“Sell up and move to France like you always said you would.”

“Maybe one day … I’ve got too much energy right now … okay, I might not always use it wisely but I can’t stop.”

“At least you’re not working weekends.”

“I didn’t work this weekend.”

“Fuck, no! You work every weekend?”

“Usually … you should feel honoured.”

“Thanks!”

“Sorry … I meant … you’re welcome … more than welcome.”

The boys headed back to start the vegetables for the late lunch which Tricia had threatened to grace with her presence. Rory was on edge. It wasn’t every day your sister-in-law sat down to lunch with you; the sister-in-law who your own brother had assaulted; the brother who had then shot himself.

With the nut roast in the oven, together with the potatoes and the ‘snips and with the pans simmering away on the hob, Rory went up to his room to unpack properly whilst Trevor answered some emails.

Whilst unpacking, Rory wondered why Trevor had been so keen for him to stay. Tricia was Trevor’s sister; someone Trevor had always been overly protective towards. To invite him over seemed to Rory to be a little insensitive to her feelings.

Okay, this was all a long time ago but it had still happened. The assault had been serious enough to involve the Police. Richard had been bailed to appear and it was during that time that he’d gone up onto the Downs and shot himself with a twelve bore shotgun. What no one had ever been able to understand was why he’d assaulted Tricia in the first place; they’d seemed to have been the devoted couple. As for killing himself, Rory had thought Richard’s actions had been so far out of character that he had wondered if Richard had done it on purpose at all. Apparently there had been no doubt on that score the police had said. The manner in which Richard had achieved his aim could not have been classed as accidental. He still wondered.

With more than a little reluctance, Rory recalled the last time he’d been at the farm. It had been for the wake after the funeral; a near silent affair that had sent him back to London with little enthusiasm for ever coming back to the island and certainly no intention of ever keeping in touch with anyone except for Trevor.

“Why now?”

These vague feelings unsettled him and did little to quell the uneasiness he felt as the dinner hour approached.

“Best get it out of the way.”

He returned to the kitchen with the intention of helping Trevor to dish up the dinner, only to find that Tricia was already providing help. They were laughing together as he entered the room.

“Tricia!”

“Hello, Rory …”

The tone was neutral; a self-medicated kind of flatness which didn’t quite ring true.

“It’s so nice to see you.”

“You too … Trevor says you’re down for a spell to regroup as he calls it. What’s happened to London then?”

Rory thought this was a well-chosen question and he was thankful for it; dissecting the crunch took up nearly the whole of lunch.

“So what next then?” asked Tricia.

“Writing perhaps … teaching maybe … selling ice cream!”

“Well, I have the van in the car park for the season and I’m thinking of getting another one. If you were serious, I’d consider the idea more carefully …”

“Yes; I’m totally open to suggestions …”

“Let’s think about it.”

“Okay …”

So far so good and no landmines stepped on. Rory escaped the washing up by taking the dogs out and only when he was a mile down the beach did he realise just how tense he’d been the entire time. The sea breeze only sought to fan the headache throbbing at his temples.

When he returned to the house, Tricia was absent and Trevor was in the yard sorting out materials for sundry jobs.

“Going to the mainland tomorrow; Tricia wants to see a van which is for sale in Southampton. We’re leaving after breakfast and Liam will be over at eleven to load the gear for the job we’ve got on Tuesday; he might need a hand.”

“Cool!”

The lack of an invitation to join them on the jaunt to Southampton spoke volumes in Rory’s head but then he remembered the dogs would need walking.

“I’ll take care of the dogs and have some dinner ready for us.”

“Perfect!”

From the tone of that it was clear that it was always to have been a ‘brother and sister only’ day trip.

“Gonna grab a swim.”

“Help yourself!”

The cold water did help to ease the headache and focus Rory’s thinking on the options for the future; writing felt indulgent and hardly likely to provide an income. Teaching via a bank agency was a possibility but the holidays were approaching.

“Selling ice cream; my God, how the mighty have fallen …”

There was still plenty of the afternoon left so Rory took himself to the churchyard to visit his brother’s and parents’ graves.

“Hi, Rick … I’m back.”

The graves did not look untidy which surprised Rory since there were no members of the family on the island who could have taken care of them.

Not too far from his family plot was that of Trevor’s family; the last resting place for the latter’s parents’ and the sister of his mother.

“Maybe he does them both.”

When Rory returned to the house, Trevor was absent and so Rory took advantage of his time alone to go online and check his emails, responding to a few of them. The London crowd already felt like a group of strangers talking in a foreign language.

Tea was something of a ‘make do’ affair and Rory found himself alone until almost eight o’clock, when Trevor re-emerged from wherever he’d been.

“Hey! Where you been?”

“Hey! I fancied a walk up to the Stone … you okay?”

“I’m fine … went to the church; you know, to-”

“I keep them tidy.”

“No; I saw that … thanks.”

“We’re taking Tricia’s car tomorrow so if you need to go out you are welcome to use the jeep.”

“Thank you … I don’t plan to.”

“I’m gonna turn in because we’re up early … night.”

“Night, Trevor … I’ll take the dogs out later.”

“Thanks.”

Now everything felt rehearsed thought Rory.

“I guess it was always gonna be a bit like this with Tricia here. Trevor invited me but if he didn’t ask her first then that was stupid of him. No; he must have, surely … and she must have said that it would be okay. I mean, why wouldn’t it be? She didn’t lose her brother, did she? I did.”

Random thoughts about working on the book filled a space and the dogs’ walk occupied the hour between nine and ten, by which time he felt tired. He was making a drink to take upstairs when Tricia joined him in the kitchen.

“Hi … do you want a drink?”

“I’ll do it … thanks.”

“Trevor said you’re looking at a van tomorrow.”

“Yes we are … I was serious about the summer.”

“No, absolutely … me too; it would be fun!”

The look didn’t betray any emotions; fun seemed to be the furthest thing from Tricia’s mind.

“Two until eight every day, sometimes more. If you’re serious then I’d prefer it if you were to take over the van here.”

“Okay; that’ll be handy in any event … to help Trevor with the dogs I mean and to be able to get dinner ready.”

“Yes … so?”

“I’ll do it!”

“Minimum wage?”

“I don’t need much.”

“Thirty quid a day, off the books.”

“Fine!”

“You can try it out next weekend. I’m opening up just at the weekend for the next month before the hordes arrive.”

“That’ll be great actually.”

Rory left her in the kitchen and headed up to his room. The scales weighing his emotions were tipping towards positive.

“Well; I’m not the enemy am I?”

The sound of one of the dogs barking outside woke him up at three o’clock. Looking out over the beach he could see Trevor and Bruno.

“What’s bugging you, Trevor? For sure something is …”

Chapter Three

Rory timed his descent to the kitchen to coincide with the car being driven away. For some unknown reason he didn’t think it would be policy to see Trevor and Tricia before their departure.

Even before he put the kettle on, he ran the dogs out and had a swim. The weather was getting better and warmer so he left the back door open. His thoughts turned to John as he sipped the first brew of the day. He hadn’t seen him back on the beach since the Saturday but even that one glimpse had been enough to stir some feelings; despite his best efforts to blank them out.

The bludgeon; that had been John’s nickname at school. He’d been a kind of ‘smack heads first and ask questions later’ kind of kid. He’d treated his sexuality in much the same way; he treated everything and everyone in much the same way. A bulldozer through life. Rory had been caught up in the bucket for a while but called time when the drinking and the aggression had become too much. Rory had left before John’s father had died so he hadn’t seen this transformation which Trevor had alluded to. Fishing from the beach certainly hadn’t figured before, so maybe it was true.

“I’ll pop in during the week,” Rory promised himself.

There were sufficient vegetables left over from lunch the day before to concoct a decent curry for the dinner that night so he relaxed and warmed up the laptop to the prospect of some writing. The prologue had just finished being tapped out just as he heard the truck arrive at eleven. Bruno bounded outside and stayed out, giving Rory the perfect excuse to see Liam for the first time and introduce himself.

“Liam?”

“Yeah … you must be Rory; Trevor said.”

“Yes I am … pleased to meet you … if you need a hand with anything, I’m happy to help.”

“Cool! Any tea going?”

“Sure …”

Making tea for the workers he could do.

“There you go.”

“Thanks!”

Liam unashamedly checked Rory out from head to toe whilst sipping the tea. The twinkle in his eye signalled that he liked what he saw. Then again, Liam pretty much liked anything. Rory returned the compliment unabashed and definitely liked what he saw. The young guy was wearing shorts, boots and a vest top. The muscles moved like the sea; they undulated. There were no sharp edges or sudden movements; it all flowed smoothly. The face was cheeky, already tanned, like everywhere else exposed. The eyes were a piercing blue; the twinkly kind, which were peering at Rory from beneath a short mop of dirty blonde curls.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need a hand; just holler.”

“Might need a hand with the long planks later … although I’m good for now!”

“A hand with a long plank; is that like code?” Rory mused, grinning to himself all the way back to the house.

Various thuds, clatters and bangs filtered into the kitchen over the next half an hour. Then the noise stopped and just at the point at which Rory became aware of the silence, Liam turned up at the door.

“Could do with a hand now if you can spare me five.”

“Oh, sure … give me one minute.”

“What are you doing?”

“Feebly attempting to write …”

Rory gave him the thumbnail as he fussed to pull on a spare pair of boots. Trevor had insisted that he wear them in case he dropped something on his foot.

“Okay; I’m ready.”

It was a simple enough job. Rory brought the planks out of the barn to the back of the truck where Liam hoisted them up and stacked them securely. Simple but exhausting work when you weren’t used to it. A heaving, roasting, sweating and back-breaking two hours later, they had the planks loaded.

“Fucking hell!”

“Try it on your own!”

“No thanks … Jesus! I’m definitely selling ice cream this summer!”

“It looks like you cut your arm,” ventured Liam, pointing to Rory’s upper left arm.

“Shit!”

“There’s a first aid kit in the barn.”

Rory staggered and Liam sauntered to the barn. Just outside of the door there was a standpipe and Liam insisted on washing the cut under the pressure of the hose. He pinched the end between two fingers, getting them both soaked in the process.

“There’s some antiseptic spray in the box; we’ll put that on it … you gonna stay then?”

“All the time Trevor will put me up or put up with me … if I’ve got work then I guess it beats everywhere else … OUCH!”

“Sorry … I’ll put this dressing on it and bind it with the parastrap … don’t get it wet.”

“Oh … I was gonna go swimming.”

“Up to you … but if you wanna get wet, I can hose you down.”

“You pretty much did already.”

“Wet tee shirts do it for me!”

“And how is it for you?” Rory chuckled.

“Bit thin … still, can’t all be as gorgeous as me.”

“No … and if we all were, you wouldn’t be special.”

“I’d still be special …”

“Really? How’s that then?”

The tone had become very salacious and playful. Liam didn’t look like the grubby angel anymore; more like a nephilim. Rory was grinning; his eyes wide open, inviting the answer to the question.

Liam suddenly became very coy, looking down to watch his feet scuffing against the ground.

“If it’s easier, why don’t you show me?”

Liam looked up into Rory’s eyes; doubt and vague fears appearing to swim in those crystal blue waters.

“Trevor would skin me.”

“Trevor isn’t back until later.”

“You up for some then?”

“Only if it’s special.”

Liam was grinning now, rubbing his chin with one hand; the other, not accustomed to being unemployed, was twisting itself into the vest top.

“C’mon then!” Rory urged.

With Liam seemingly held in the grips of doubt, Rory made the first move, giving himself some credit by making the assumption that it was the thought of Trevor arriving back rather than his own less than special offerings which Liam seemed to be worrying about or dallying over. Reaching out, Rory lifted the vest top over Liam’s head, delighting in the torso which he considered to be utterly magnificent; as buff as that of any guy’s gracing the front cover of a magazine.

“Wow!” Rory exclaimed, genuinely impressed.

“Don’t!” Liam complained.

“What?”

“It’s not …”

Rory didn’t want to hear the self-effacement, which would have sounded like Da Vinci dissing the Mona Lisa. He moved in swiftly to plant his lips firmly on Liam’s catching them just as they parted. It flipped the special switch and Liam responded ferociously. Rory took what was on offer, knowing the steam would run out eventually and then they’d relax and enjoy it. There wasn’t anywhere particularly clean or flat to lie down on except for a stack of Gyprock boards, conveniently covered in plastic. They pirouetted towards them, landing inexpertly; not that either cared. After a short tussle, Liam ended up on top, pinning Rory down by the wrists.

“What you gonna do now?” Rory queried, smiling broadly. Liam was panting a little; the muscles of his torso pumping like four little pairs of bellows. The young guy had Spartan abs as they were termed, an eight pack which Rory viewed jealously, having a mere ring pull himself.

“Suck me … I love being sucked.”

“Show the dog the bone …”

Liam levered himself back to undo the canvas belt fastened around his shorts; the type which was fastened by two steel rings. He couldn’t get them down quick enough or far enough.

“Oh bollocks!” Liam complained, getting up to shuck off the shorts, deftly stepping out of them whilst leaving his boots on.

“Wow, you are … nicely built.”

Liam was suddenly serious, “I wanna be a model for one of those fitness magazines; there’s a competition.”

“You got my vote …”

Bless him, Liam went through his little set routine of poses and Rory was actually really touched by the display and the commitment that it had obviously required to get to this level.

“What are you wearing? Are those … lace?”

Liam was wearing a pair of figure hugging lace trunks which were printed with some animal skin design.

“Love ‘um; make me feel … sexy…”

Rory was eyeing the bulge and a pretty impressive one it was too. Liam turned his back to him and thrust out his arse.

“Gotta work on my glutes.”

“If you say …”

Liam turned and leapt back onto the stack, arranging himself so that he could grind his groin into Rory’s.

“Keep doing that and you’ll be hosing me down again …”

Liam stood up and slipped the trunks off, being very careful not to snag them on his boots. The naked Liam was even more awesome to look at and the cock swinging between his legs was a meaty eight inches. Swaying gently, it drew Rory forward and up into a sitting position as if it was magnetic; North Pole and South Pole, instead of repelling, attracting and it wasn’t long before the needle of that compass was twitching.

Wordlessly, Rory reached out and grasped it, pulling it to his lips. The end was nicely rounded, hot and sticky, enveloping him in a cloud of pure masculinity tinged with some vaguely familiar body spray. Without the need for any further encouragement, he took it into his mouth and sucked his cheeks in around it.

“Fuck!” Liam bellowed, shackled by his needs and at Rory’s mercy.

Liam was in the wrong position, stood as he was over Rory, forced to bend his knees. Majestically, they toppled backwards, enabling Rory to lie on his back with Liam straddling his face.

With Liam’s thighs pressed against the sides of his head, Rory was finding it difficult to bob on the shaft. He pushed Liam back.

“Turn round and sixty-nine with me …”

Liam swivelled round, sinking his cock back into Rory’s hungry mouth while loosening the belt of the jeans, allowing him to ferret.

“FUCKING HELL!”

Liam forced the jeans and unsexy non-lace underwear down to expose the dong which had been the butt of countless jokes and jibes the whole of Rory’s life. Before Rory could free up his mouth and say anything, Liam was on him and enjoying the novelty of having two hands gripped around the shaft with plenty to spare for the savage suck which he then proceeded to deliver. Breaking off he pleaded, “I’ve gotta have that in me!”

Unceremoniously, he yanked his cock out of Rory’s mouth and scampered over to the bench to find something to lubricate it with.

“I didn’t take you for a pussy boy,” Rory jibed.

“I love cock!”

Liam found some petroleum jelly in an old jar which Robert kept for greasing the lifting pulley. Smothering Rory’s cock with the gunge was almost enough to bring Liam off, “Jesus … you’re gonna break something with this!”

Almost as an afterthought, he stole a kiss from Rory who was propped up on his arms.

“Don’t thrust!” Liam begged.

Rory smiled affirmatively and grabbed Liam by the back of the neck, pulling him down for another kiss.

“All the way or I’ll tell everyone about the lace.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“All the way …”

Liam squatted and lubed himself to help ease the pole in.

Yelps, grimaces, ecstatic shudders, agonised groans, tears and a well-timed upward thrust got the dong buried to the hilt. Liam couldn’t speak.

“Now ride it,” Rory purred encouragingly; already sounding jubilant.

“Oh G-O-D!”

There was real pain as the ram battered his insides and stretched his channel wider than the width of his wrist. Then the pain melted as the muscles gave up the ghost and relinquished themselves, just like the rest, to the scalp tinkling, throat clasping, chest heaving, stomach flipping and arse numbing fuck that Liam delivered to himself. Rory tossed Liam off to keep his mind firmly in the zone. He shot a huge load over Rory’s chest; hot splatters ricocheted off in all directions, heralded by a succession of gasps and moans which sounded more like hiccoughs struggling to leave Liam’s throat.

“Now my turn!” Rory claimed.

Weakened by his orgasm, Liam was no match for Rory who had grabbed his hips to ram upwards two or three times to deliver his own load.

“J-E-S-U-S C-H-R-I-S-T!”

Hugging each other tightly, Rory was taken with the innocent tenderness of Liam’s embrace; a pussy boy with a soft centre! With innards churned to dough and a hole that was gaping like a coffee cup, Liam eased himself off and slumped beside Rory who was justifiably pleased and getting off a second time as he witnessed his dong cough up the last dregs of his load.

“Rory … Jesus, man …”

“That, Liam … was special!”

As he hadn’t fully undressed, Rory was able to get up more quickly, listening all the while to Liam moaning.

“C’mon!”

Liam dressed slowly and playing it up, he shuffled just as slowly out of the barn. Rory was no fool and slapped the man’s arse, albeit the ‘argh’ the slap elicited was genuine enough.

“Come and get a drink …”

Liam wasn’t allowed inside the house and so they shared the brew at one of the garden tables.

“Would you like to go out for a drink one night?”

The question surprised Rory; not only on account of Liam being fifteen years younger but because he believed the young man was of the type who would be easily distracted.

“Yeah, why not?”

The chance to rub John’s nose in it didn’t escape Rory’s mind either.

Liam smiled, “Whenever you want. I work out most nights but I’ll take a night off for you.”

“Where do you work out?”

“At a gym in Newport.”

“Let me meet you there after your workout tomorrow.”

“Okay, say around eight?”

“Perfect … you’d best get on else Trevor will twig … I’m not gonna tell him.”

“I don’t mind if you do; although perhaps not yet. Right; cheers then … see you tomorrow; and Rory? I live in Newport!”

“You can show me your collection of lace panties!”

“Please don’t tell anyone!”

“I won’t! You held up your end of the bargain, didn’t you?” Rory laughed, “Really; don’t worry. I won’t breathe a word. Now; get out of here …!”

After Liam had left, Rory decided to take the dogs out for a longer walk. He felt so mindlessly happy that he couldn’t help grinning to himself for the whole duration of the walk.

“C’mon, Jake! Show willing; you ain’t dead yet!” he called out as he broke into a run, much to Bruno’s delight.

Trevor and Tricia returned at around six o’clock and unlike that morning, Rory made sure that he was in the kitchen to welcome them both home. He had the excuse of finishing off the curry to keep him at the stove in any event.

“Hey, guys!”

“Hey!”

“Hi …”

Tricia’s ‘hi’ sounded less forced than he’d been expecting.

“Curry tonight for anyone who wants it. Did you have a good day?”

“Bought the van; gonna pick it up at the weekend. I’ll definitely want you to man the other one on Saturday, Rory.” Tricia confirmed.

“That’s okay. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Did Liam come?” asked Trevor

‘Like a trooper!’

“Yeah, helped him load the planks.”

“Great! Thanks.”

“Dogs had a double walk so we could pop to the pub for a half if you wanted to before dinner …”

“Tricia?” asked Trevor.

“No, thanks; tired … I’m going to crash for a bit.”

Rory and Trevor left to walk to the pub in Hulverstone.

“Thanks for helping Liam.”

“He’s a nice lad.”

“Young but hard working … did he tell you about the competition?”

“Yeah, he did. Good for him!”

“John’ll be behind the bar tonight …”

“Good for him!”

“No interest there?”

“Zero … he ignored me on the beach on Saturday.”

They continued on in companionable silence until they arrived at the pub where Rory strode ahead to reach the bar; his intention to be the first to grab John’s attention by ordering the drinks.

“Hello, John! Two pints, please.”

“Whoa, Rory! Where did you jump out from?”

“London finally kicked me into touch! The truth will out …”

John mashed his face for a second, busying himself with pulling the pints.

“Staying with Trevor?”

Like you didn’t fucking know! “Yeah … got a job selling ice cream.”

“Tricia?”

“In the car park.”

“R-i-g-h-t … six-fifty, please.”

“Thanks, John; keep the change and have one yourself.”

“Ooh, ta!”

Rory moved away from the counter and delivered the pints to a table beside a window which Trevor had commandeered.

Trevor raised his glass, “Cheers!”

“Cheers!”

“Mending a fence or a bridge?”

“Like fuck I am … he can fuck the trout he pulls out.”

The silence which accompanied the first two or three sips was broken by Trevor.

“Tricia is really happy that you agreed to work the summer.”

“Great! I need an occupation or I’ll get lazy …” he sighed as he met his friend’s eyes, “It has been eight years, Trevor, since …”

“Some wounds never heal.”

“Does she think hers are deeper than mine?”

“Of course not! Richard was your brother. She feels guilty … no, partly responsible.”

“How so? It was an unprovoked attack.”

“Nothing is ever completely unprovoked.”

“Eight years ago it was deemed as having been unprovoked,” Rory’s eyes narrowed slightly, “Has she said something … to you; something which might suggest to the contrary?”

“I think your appearance has made her think about it again … dragged it all up; you know?”

“You did tell her I was coming, didn’t you?”

“Of course! I’m not an idiot!”

“So … has she said something?”

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“Like I said; she feels partly responsible and offering you the job is her way of saying sorry … somehow.”

“He beat her and killed himself; that’s how I’ll always remember it. If she provoked him then it must have been pretty serious. You knew what he was like; more Jake than Bruno.”

“Didn’t you ever wonder what set him off?”

“Of course; but he wouldn’t have been the first one in the family to just lose it, would he?”

“Shit, Rory; I didn’t mean to open that up.”

“Trevor … everyone knows; you can’t keep secrets on this pile of mud and stone. Dad beat Mum and us lads when he’d tanked up. Richard liked his drink too.”

“He never got like your Dad.”

“Not as far as we know … I was … and still am … sorry that he did it and I miss him; but he had a choice. He could’ve talked to me … or you for that matter.”

“Yeah …”

They finished their pints in contemplative silence and then got up to leave.

“John’s trying to catch your eye,” announced Trevor.

Rory turned his head in the direction of the bar to see John beckoning him; calling him over.

“John?”

“Found something of yours the other day.”

John pulled out a package from under the bar and handed it over.

“What is it?”

“A photograph … it was in the bottom of a box. Fuck knows how it got there.”

“Thanks! Night, John!”

“Night, fellas …”

The men sauntered back to the house, Rory weighing the package in his hands although he didn’t open it.

“A photograph?”

“Framed by the feel of it; it’ll be of the gang.”

Trevor merely nodded, struggling to bite his tongue which was eager to encourage Rory to open it up there and then.

When they arrived back at the house, they found Tricia’s door to be closed, leading them to the assumption that she wasn’t planning to join them for dinner. Rory slipped two pouches of rice into the microwave oven and finished off the curry.

“Wine with that?” asked Trevor.

“Not for me …”

They ate to the accompaniment of the News and Weather. Rory was the first to break the silence.

“Planning on going into Newport tomorrow to look around and see who’s about … can I borrow the car or get a lift?”

“Sure! We’ll go in together and I’ll leave you with the car. Liam can drop me back after work with the truck.”

“How will he get back into Newport?”

“He’ll ride; part of the regime he’s following.”

His poor arse! “Cool … I won’t be late.”

“Don’t worry … I’ll be good for nothing after work. If you’re out, I’ll grab me and Tricia ‘something and chips’. She’ll see to the dogs at lunchtime.”

“Okay …”

“You gonna open that package?”

Rory answered by picking it up and opening it. The A5 sized, framed print slipped out into his hand. With the aid of the light above the kitchen table the identities of the people in the photograph were easy to make out.

“Ah, of course!”

Rory handed the picture to Trevor.

“Oh … not one for the mantelpiece.”

It was a picture of Rory, Richard, Tricia and Trevor which had been taken by John on Tricia’s and Richard’s wedding day.

“Chooses his moments, doesn’t he?” Rory suggested sarcastically.

“John? He’s a tosser.”

“I’m gonna put this upstairs straightaway … then I’ll take the dogs out.”

“I’ll-”

“I’ll do it!” Tosser? Fucking cunt!

Chapter Four

Breakfast was a mumbling kind of an affair. Tricia wasn’t up and Trevor staggered out with the dogs whilst Rory made the coffee on auto-pilot. By eight o’clock the men were on the road and by eight-thirty they were in Newport to rendezvous with Liam and the two other guys whom Trevor employed.

Liam was barely able to contain his effervescence. With Trevor distracted whilst speaking with his two employees, Rory took advantage of the moment to snatch a few words with Liam.

“Hey … I didn’t know that you’d have to ride back to Newport after you’ve dropped Trevor off tonight.”

“No worries! I do it all the time. I’ll skip the weights. Where do you want to meet?”

“At your place?”

“S-u-r-e … above the Solicitor’s in Node Hill.”

“I know it … what time?”

“Six-thirty?”

“Great! Not a word!”

“No; lips are sealed!”

“For now; keep clenching! Have a good day.”

Rory said goodbye to Trevor and went into town, parking up at the car park by the Quay Arts’ Centre. From there he walked into the centre of town and grabbed a coffee in the Square. Before the first shot had slipped down his throat he caught sight of Tricia, heading towards the High Street, having come from the multi-storey that was opposite the bus station.

“Ey, ey!”

Of course, there was no reason why Tricia shouldn’t be in Newport but Rory couldn’t help feeling it a little suspicious; after all, if she’d wanted to come into town, she could’ve come in with him and Trevor.

She hadn’t seen him and so Rory was able to finish his coffee in peace whilst recycling Trevor’s notion that Tricia was somehow apologising for something. For one thing, why would she even feel the need to apologise? To Rory, the idea was more than a little intriguing; it was positively bizarre.

The circumstances surrounding the attack were well recorded. Of course, there had been an inquest after the suicide. The state of Richard’s mind was never really questioned. The alcoholism and the guilt over the attack were considered enough of a reason for him to have taken his own life. Using one of Trevor’s guns had been seen as a kind of ‘admission of guilt’. As far as Rory had been concerned, Trevor’s gun had just been easier to get hold of than anyone else’s; a fact that the police hadn’t investigated beyond checking the certificate and the storage of it. Even Rory had known where the key had been kept; everyone had.

Tricia and her guilt or sense of responsibility … or whatever it was, didn’t hamper Rory’s enjoyment of the art gallery or his mooch around the shops or even the walk along the river to Cowes and back. He took lunch at the diner at the top of town and then got his hair cut.

“Rory!”

“Stuart!”

“What the fuck?”

“Missed you!”

“Like fuck you did! It’s been years … how many?”

“Eight.”

“My God … what do you want today?”

“Trim the ends and tidy up around the back; I start work on Saturday …”

“Doing what?”

“Selling ice cream.”

“Gee … hitting the big time.”

“Hit the big time … ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. When you fall it hurts.”

“I should be happy then?”

“If you’re happy, be grateful and thank God … I’d tell you to put your prices down but you don’t look that happy!”

“This one’s on me … good to see you back. Where you staying?”

“Trevor’s.”

“Guessed you would be. Selling ice cream for who; Tricia?”

“That’s the plan. Manning the van in the car park whilst she goes mobile.”

“Right!”

Dumbfounded; just like all the rest will be. “You still with Kez?”

“Who else would have me?”

“Plenty I’m sure; let’s get together soon.”

“You on your lonesome?”

“Am; the bitch ran off to Spain and didn’t come back.”

“His loss! I’m sure we can find you a fresh one.”

“I don’t seem to be doing too badly all by myself.” Read that whichever way you want!

“I’ll tell Kez you’re back; he’ll be made up.”

At three o’clock, having spent an hour totally absorbed in browsing the bookstore, Rory wandered back to the arts’ centre to have a cuppa. Taking his cup out onto the terrace, he noticed Tricia who was sitting alone at a table whilst she spoke into her mobile phone. Unsure as to whether he should join her or not, he finally settled for the table to which he’d originally been heading and sat down, resisting the urge to keep looking over his shoulder towards the woman, deciding instead that it would be better to wait for her to end her call and allow her to come to him. After a while, fearful that he might be appearing to be rude, he turned around, only to see that the table where Tricia had been sitting was now empty.

“What-the-fuck?”

Nonplussed and still with two or more hours to kill, he went to the cinema and watched a film starring Robert de Niro and Michelle Pfeiffer; a gangster romp which he found pretty funny and quite touching in places. He emerged from the cinema at six-fifteen which left him with just enough time to saunter up to Node Hill and knock smartly on Liam’s door at six-thirty as they’d agreed.

Liam opened the door, enabling another guy to exit as much as to permit Rory entrance.

“Be seein’ you, Joel … come in, Rory.”

“Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

“No! Joel’s my trainer. We were talking about a competition this Sunday. He’s gotta bail and I can’t do it without him.”

“Oh; why?”

“It’s the preparation. I need someone to touch up the fake tan, oil me up and well, just keep me motivated.”

“I’ll do it …” But Rory couldn’t keep a straight face.

“Get in here! Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah … relaxing … mooched around, got a haircut, walked to Cowes and back along the river; saw a movie … you?”

“Usual … dropped off Trevor, rode back and met Joel.”

“Was Tricia there?”

“Yeah; cleaning the van.”

“My new office!”

“Did you eat?”

“A burger at lunchtime … you hungry?”

“All the time! I burn five thousand calories a day! Let’s eat Italian.”

“Great idea!”

“Why are you smirking?”

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Are you-”

“Being deadly serious? Come here!”

Rory kissed Liam like a lover would, not like a date should!

“Wow! No one ever kissed me like that before.”

“I’ve …”

“Had plenty of practice?”

“Yes, that was exactly what I was going to say. Thank you for giving me this opportunity to sound less like a dork!” “No … I’ve never met anyone who appreciated my skills before.”

“Oh … uhm … are you yanking my chain? I can never tell.”

“Liam; get your coat.”

They walked to the little Italian bistro in the Square.

“You’re serious about Sunday? Otherwise I’ll have to cancel.”

“I’m serious. Tricia only needs me on Saturday … but don’t you have other mates and … well, I thought all the competitors helped each other out?”

“Some do; most are too focussed on themselves. I don’t really have any mates … just guys I share the craic with … except Joel.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know … guys get jealous.”

“Mates don’t usually care about how you look.”

“I get focussed and I guess they feel left out.”

“Well … I don’t know about them but I feel very much left in.”

“You’re strange … good strange.”

“Pizza or pasta?”

“Polenta and chicken … need the protein and not the fat!”

“I’m gonna have the salad and garlic dough balls.”

“You need the garlic? It’s good for your blood.”

“No; I need the balls; I need the practice!”

Liam collapsed in fits.

“You see!?”

Rory didn’t answer; he didn’t need to answer because there wasn’t really any question about it.

“Are you having a dessert?”

“I’d die for the Tiramisu … I’ll work it off.”

“Liam … don’t ruin your chances over a bit of pud’ … reward yourself after the weekend.”

“If I get through, I’ll have to train even harder.”

“Have it now and work it off. You’re putting yourself under too much stress.”

“Can you help me work it off?”

“Gladly! What’s a trainer for if not to sacrifice his cock for the sake of your chances?”

“I meant in the gym.”

“Fucking liar!”

“I was lying … but can you go easy? I think you broke something in there.”

“Really? Shit … do you need to see someone?”

“NO! I was joking … nice that you cared.”

Oh boy, Rory; you’re in deep. “Let’s go; I can’t be too late.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to wake everyone up.”

“Stay over …”

“I’ve got the car.”

“Take it back first thing.”

“Good thinking! Why are you not moving?”

The walk back to the flat was peppered by belly hugging laughs which stopped them in their tracks and made the tears run down their faces. Rory couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this comfortable around a guy, especially a younger one; especially one as attractive as Liam. By the time they made the door they were nicely chilled, not that there had ever really been any nerves but there certainly weren’t any now.

“Drink?”

“Just water, please … nice place.”

“Plenty of overtime; means I can have decent stuff. Trevor’s really good to me.”

“He’s a good pal.”

“You’ve known each other since you were kids, right?”

“Our mothers were pregnant at the same time; we were born on the same day.”

“Wow! Life-long friends …”

“We tried the other but it didn’t work out … fortunately we stayed friends.”

“Why didn’t it work out?”

“We were too young; hormone fuelled. We did it a few times and realised we were better off as mates.”

Liam stepped in for a hug and tilted his head back to get a kiss, which Rory happily delivered.

“I wanna see your collection of lace underwear …”

“Oh GOD!”

“Don’t be shy … I’ve seen you in it anyway … why do you wear lace though?”

The question had seemed to make Liam a little uncomfortable and Rory instantly regretted having asked it.

“Sorry … it’s kind of cute; that’s all.”

“I like the way it makes me feel … I … I wonder sometimes what it would be like to be a woman.”

“Do you … I mean …”

“No … I don’t think so … I’m just curious. I like being a man but I like wearing lace underwear and getting fucked.”

“You never fucked anyone?”

“Never …”

“Didn’t you want to try?”

“The guys I’ve been with always looked like they expected me - wanted me - to be the top. I tried but I couldn’t keep it up.”

“It’s called performance anxiety … that’s what it sounds like. If you want to try, you can.”

“I don’t think I’d be any good at it.”

“Unless you try, you’ll never know what it feels like or if you like it.”

“It just felt so good to have you inside me … I know I’d never be able to make you feel the same way.”

“Why do you say that? I like being fucked too and I like it when a guy takes control. I’d love you to take control … I’m the freak and I don’t always feel that good about it.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously! They call me donkey dong; it’s just a name but you know what? It makes me feel like I’m just a dick, a senseless cock, looking for a hole to put it in.”

“Shit! I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay … but I’d really like it if you wanted to try.”

Honesty and opening up their hearts made for powerful aphrodisiacs. Rory got the catwalk show and grew a hard on like a telegraph pole which he duly planted. Liam learned a little more about what his dick could do and pounded arse for the first time … and cried for half an hour.

“You fucked me and I enjoyed it … I want it again,” Rory admitted truthfully, hoping he didn’t sound patronising but as sincere as he genuinely felt.

“You’re not just saying that?”

“I’d never lie to you about that.”

Rory hastily composed and sent a text message to Trevor, explaining that he was staying over at a mate’s and he’d drop the car back early. It opened the way for the stay over. They talked into the wee hours and Liam, exhausted on all levels, curled up in Rory’s arms and slept soundly with a smile painted on his lips as if he was a china doll.

Liam sleeping peacefully within his arms seemed to answer a few questions, leaving Rory with just one more to be answered.

What the fuck was she doing in Newport that she didn’t want me to know about?

Chapter Five

Rory only just made it back in time to hand the keys over as Trevor walked out of the back door.

“Dirty bloody dog!”

“Jealous! See you later.”

“Have a good day.”

“Bye!”

Tricia was in the kitchen.

“Hey!”

“Hi …”

“Can I help you with anything today?”

“I’m going off to the wholesalers … could you finish cleaning the van?”

“Sure!”

Rory wasn’t going to say anything, leaving it up to Tricia to admit to having seen him at the café.

“I cleaned the inside yesterday, so it’s just the outside. I’ve left it by the standpipe so you can use the hose.”

“Is it gonna stay static or do you want me to take it up to the viewpoint like you always do?”

“Not sure … I’ll probably put that stop on my circuit … see how it goes.”

“I’m off with Liam to Gosport on Sunday … you don’t need me right?”

“Just Saturday … what are you doing with Liam then?”

“Helping him at one of these competitions he does. Joel, his trainer, let him down.”

“Right … see you later; gotta get on.”

“Okay!”

Rory took his insulated mug filled with coffee and ran the dogs out. Late nights didn’t really suit him and he had cotton wool in his head which needed to be blown away. The beach was deserted.

“She met someone; someone she doesn’t want anyone … me … to know about. Like I’d care! She’s giving me a job on the one hand and ignoring me on the other … I’m the reminder, so why did she agree to Trevor inviting me to stay? She feels guilty … about what?”

Rory had never really questioned Richard’s actions because he’d believed what everyone had always said; Richard was drunk and like their father, had lashed out unthinkingly. The guilt had pushed him over the edge. The attack had been bad but except for a trip to A&E to have a few stitches, Tricia hadn’t needed hospitalising. Rory accepted that the emotional trauma had been - still was - severe enough to excuse a lot of strange behaviour on Tricia’s part. But after eight years?

“Do I care? He’s dead and nothing is going to bring him back. He killed himself; he alone was responsible for that. He could have talked to me or Trevor … or John or a score of others. Why can’t she move on?”

Rory returned to the house and started the job of washing the van. A simple enough task that once he had the hose going and was thoroughly wet through to the skin, only sought to remind him of Liam. It was Wednesday and they were meeting on Friday at the farm to run down the format for the show and confirm the travel arrangements. The plan was for Rory to stay over on Saturday night. Early on Sunday morning, they’d call a taxi to take them to the Cat’ Terminal where they’d cross to The Hard and use the Chain Ferry to Gosport, grabbing a taxi to the venue where they needed to be by eleven o’clock at the latest.

Tricia disappeared and came back two hours later, laden with basic stock; drinks and chocolate bars.

“Who’s making the ice cream this year?”

“Mary, as always … I’d love to make my own.”

“Why don’t you then?”

“I can’t let Mary down; she loves doing it. Once she’s gone …”

“The advertising board looks a bit sad.”

“Trevor’s going to make me a new one tomorrow.”

“Do I need the uniform?”

“Just picked up a few new white jackets … you’ll need to tie your hair back.”

“No worries … shall we load up then?”

“I’m just going to update the stock cards and then I’ll help you load your van with the non-perishables. We’ll load the ice cream on Saturday before Trevor and I leave. The van we’re getting on Saturday needs a refit and Trevor’s going to ask Liam to do it.”

“Liam?”

“He’s a qualified cabinet maker … he’ll do a basic refit and by Easter that one will be on the road. Your spare stock will be in the barn freezer.”

“Have you got the price list; I’ll memorise it.”

“I need to print the new one out.”

“Okay …” Strictly business? Have it your own way.

Rory finished the van, took the dogs out and then made a lasagne for dinner. It wasn’t until four o’clock that he stopped and had a break to re-visit the prologue of the story. It was going to be Rory’s first attempt at a serious novel. Previous efforts had ended up in the bin. This one was a romance whereas all previous attempts had been Sci-Fi based; he fancied his hand at a romance with some intrigue and mystery.

“Okay; do they live happily ever after? Obviously, this is fiction!”

An hour fleshing out the first chapter in outline form left him feeling pretty confident. Tricia popped in to announce that they could load the van if he had time.

“Sure!”

Between them they loaded all of the non-perishables into the van, leaving only the ice cream to load when they picked it up on Friday; a simple and quick enough job since Mary put the ice cream she made straight into the trays which fitted into the chiller unit of the van. Tricia had also bought a stack of lollies which had been stored in the barn freezers.

“I’m going to trial the tea and coffee this year; especially early in the season. Gonna try out these new flasks and it’s handy because if you sell out then you can pop back and refill them yourself … I’m going to the bank tomorrow for the change float and I’ll add you to the insurance.”

“Thanks … this is going to be really great.”

“Don’t get too excited; hardly the high life of London!”

“London isn’t all it’s cracked up to be … especially when you don’t have a job and your bloke has pissed off to Spain and doesn’t plan to come back.”

“This is a hardly a career though is it?”

“No … but I can take my time to think about my options and working the summer keeps me ticking over, thanks to you.”

“Don’t mention it … when Trevor said you were coming, it put the idea into my head about the second van.”

“Perfect for us both then!”

They continued to work on in an easy silence, occasionally punctuated by Bruno sticking his head in the door.

“We’ll go out in a minute, Bruno.”

They had just finished up when out of the blue, Tricia asked, “Why do you never ask about him?”

“Who?”

“Richard …”

“What can you tell me that I don’t already know?”

“Nothing … you don’t … reminisce.”

“Would it help if I did?”

“Sometimes … when we were kids we had a good time.”

“We did … the four of us were always together … reminiscing is usually only good for one thing; to blot out the stuff we don’t want to remember. I’ve made myself remember it, deal with it and move on.”

“I never seem to be able to move on … he’s always around.”

“Nothing has got better in eight years?”

“Some … some things are worse. I still really miss him … despite what happened. For years we were best friends and we talked about everything.”

“Why did the drinking get worse at the end?”

“I don’t know. I thought he was coping better and actually, it was getting less.”

“John has always said that Richard was in the bar that day, throwing them down his neck and when he refused to serve him anymore, Richard left. He came here, beat you and collapsed; got arrested, was held overnight, bailed to appear and then came here, took the gun, walked up there and shot himself.”

“That’s exactly what happened.”

“He was my brother and I loved him; but he wouldn’t face up to the fact that he had a problem. He reached the end of the line, hit the buffers and paid the price.”

“At the time, we had so much to look forward to.”

“It’ll never equate, Tricia … drink warps the mind. It wasn’t your fault and if anyone was to blame it’s me because when he came out of the court that afternoon he tried to speak to me but I told him to fuck off.”

“I know; you said that at the inquest.”

“That was the last time I saw him and the last thing I said to him.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Rory.”

“No; I know … it was the drink and then the guilt of having hurt you … and to a degree the shame. I think he knew that the demons were never going to leave him alone and he killed himself to save himself from doing something worse.”

“Maybe you’re right …”

“So what is going to help you move on?”

“We had so many plans …”

“Have them with someone else …”

Tricia’s response, had there been one, was eclipsed by Trevor’s arrival and the whirlwind created by Bruno.

Touching base, questions and answers, walking the dogs and dinner put paid to anything else until eight o’clock. Trevor went off to do some work on the computer and Tricia stayed to help clear up.

“I never sought out any help from anyone myself but maybe it would help you …” Rory ventured tentatively.

“A therapist?”

“They can really help sometimes.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“It was just the grief of losing my brother that I finally had to process; he was dead and I couldn’t bring him back whatever I did.”

“He was my husband.”

“He loved you but he was flawed.”

“If only he had sought help before it was too late.”

“Family trait, Tricia … look at Dad.”

“Should have known, shouldn’t we?”

“You just hope … Richard knew the score; he was beaten, just as me and Mum were … he had fewer excuses than anyone else.”

“What now?”

“Say goodbye and put yourself back out there.”

Silence followed but it wasn’t uncomfortable. When Tricia left for her room, Rory was very happy that they’d had the conversation. The things that had needed to be said had been said.

“Dogs … get your boots on!”

Trevor appeared just as Rory had called to the dogs.

“I’ll come with you …”

“Sure …”

The men wandered down to the beach and Rory was waiting for the question. Tricia’s presence in the kitchen after dinner would, in itself, be enough to elicit a comment.

“Tricia spoke to you?”

“Yes … before you came in tonight and again after dinner; it was long overdue.”

“And?”

“Nothing really; just about how she feels. I suggested that she should see a therapist and get back out there; Richard isn’t coming back.”

“Wow!”

“What? No meat cleaver stuck in my head? Why should she be angry with me? We don’t blame each other and the air is clear and that’s a good thing, especially if we’re working together.”

“I’m really happy that you spoke to each other. I guess there was a risk, even though Tricia agreed when I asked her if I could invite you over … we can all relax a little more.”

“Relax a lot … what else needs to be said? Anyway, enough of that … Tricia said you’re at home making new signs tomorrow. Do you want me to go shopping or anything?”

“Oh … sure. I thought Tricia was going to do that when she went to the cash-and-carry. I usually do it … but if you don’t mind it would be a help.”

“Not at all … it’s a free day tomorrow. I’m seeing Liam on Friday; staying over with him on Saturday so that we’ll be good to go early on Sunday.”

“Are you … interested?”

“Too young for me, Trevor … and easily distracted.”

“So just friends?”

“Yup; I like him. The competition thing is taking over his life and it doesn’t leave much room for anything else. I like his commitment … we just have a laugh.”

“So all is good?”

“To be honest, yes … and thanks to you and Tricia, my year is going to be so much better than it would otherwise have been.”

“You don’t need to thank me … you’re family, Rory.”

“Thanks … turning in?”

“In a bit … you go …”

Rory headed back to the house, leaving Trevor on the beach. Despite clearing the air with Tricia, Rory still felt that Trevor was harbouring something.

“All work and no play makes Trevor a dull boy!”

Chapter Six

It felt like a day off to Rory, despite having to do the grocery shopping.

“Where do you go?”

“The organics place in Godshill is best usually.”

“Okay … is there a list?”

“Yeah … somewhere …”

With a hastily scribbled list, the keys and some money, Rory backed out the Landie and zoomed off along the Military Road, relishing the sudden sense of freedom. He pulled off at Chale and sought out Mary to say ‘hello’ and to confirm the time of the pick-up on the Friday.

Nothing much had changed after eight years; he still got lost!

Shopping for the week and sharing the time of day with the other people at the supermarket made him feel settled at last. Perhaps it was because he’d come back penniless which helped. To have come back after making a stash would have felt somehow disloyal.

Though he didn’t acknowledge it, most people held him in deep affection due to his loss, the manner of it and the terrible trouble he’d had with his father. It also made him ‘public property’ to a degree, even after an eight year absence.

Rory was tempted to pop into Newport and see Liam but he knew it would be awkward because they were still trying to keep things under wraps. After the weekend it would probably be a different story.

He didn’t go to Newport and headed straight home in order to do some writing, maybe even hike it to Alum Bay. Drawing into the yard brought forth Bruno but no one else. Unloading the shopping by himself sought to remind him that some of the stuff needed to go into the freezer and to this end, he sorted all into one bag and lugged it out to the barn.

The barn door was closed and locked from the inside.

“Trevor! It’s me …”

Silence.

“TREVOR!”

He heard some vague sounds; knocking and thumping about and then the door opened.

“Trevor?”

“The catch must have got stuck.”

An innocent enough explanation but the tone and the beetroot coloured face suggested something else.

“Stuff for the freezer …”

“I’ll put it away … get the kettle on.”

“Sure …” Having a sneaky wank … dirty dog!

Rory entered the kitchen, calling out to Tricia whose door was open. His greeting elicited no response.

“Whatever! Bruno! Get your face out of that bag!”

He took the tea out and found Tricia in the yard, writing up the new advertising boards.

Where the fuck did she spring from? “Tricia! Tea?”

“I’m fine; thanks, Rory …”

For some unknown reason, the atmosphere felt tense to Rory, leading him to the conclusion that brother and sister must have had words of some kind.

“What the fuck!”

Dismissing the thought as being none of his business, Rory took a cuppa out to the barn where Trevor seemed to still be busy with nothing whatsoever. Trevor looked up as soon as he was aware of Rory’s presence.

“Robert will be in over the weekend; he’s got John’s boat to repair and he wants to bend the timbers.”

“Fine … I’m in the van and straight out after I finish.”

Rory sauntered over to the rig to have another look. Something bright caught his eye. It was a thin gold bracelet and it was lying on one of the poles which formed the moulding bed. He picked it up and wandered outside again.

“Tricia; is this yours?”

She stood up from where she’d been kneeling, marking up the new advertising boards.

“Oh … yes! Where did you find it?”

“On Robert’s rig.”

“Thanks!”

Rory held it out to her, assuming that perhaps it had been a gift from Richard or Trevor.

Writing ate up a portion of the afternoon for Rory whilst Trevor for his part, remained in the barn. Tricia left to go out and by dinner time she still hadn’t returned. Trevor was the first to speak.

“Robert might need a hand next week; and he’d pay.”

“Doing what?”

“Varnishing those timbers for John’s boat … Liam usually does it but I’m getting him to fit out the van.”

“Yeah, Tricia said … why does he work for you when he’s a qualified cabinet maker?”

“Had some trouble with his finances; lost everything. I took him on and he’s sorted himself out. I don’t think he trusts himself to go it alone again; he forgets stuff, like his tax!”

“If he wins the competition he won’t have to worry; fucking huge first prize.”

“Is that what this thing is on Sunday?”

“No; Sunday is a kind of warm up event. The big shit happens later, here on the island, sometime in June. Sunday will give him a boost though.”

“You seem to be taking a healthy interest.”

“I am! He’s good to be around.”

“I thought you said he was too young for you?”

“Yeah, well. I changed my mind; unless you can think of someone who is right for me … and don’t say John!”

“Robert?”

“Ooh … Robert … fucking dark horse that one!”

“Hung like one!”

“How do you know?”

The momentary silence condemned Trevor to the inevitable ribbing.

“We haven’t done anything; I swear it!”

“Yeah … well, I’m not convinced, so I’ll just ask him … I don’t believe you’re happy by yourself. You used to always get someone else to wank you off because you were too fucking lazy to do it yourself!”

“I’m taking the dogs out.”

“I’d offer but I must save something for Liam!”

“Tart!”

Trevor left with the dogs and Rory finished clearing up. Tricia was still absent. Rory carried on writing, seeing as the weekend would be taken up with work and Liam’s competition. Soon he’d be working seven days a week; reason in itself to keep things with Liam on a casual basis.

Tricia still hadn’t returned by the time Trevor had come back with the dogs and disappeared into the office.

Rory signed off on the first chapter and took a walk by himself. It was coming up to full moon so he dispensed with a torch. The tide was out and he followed what surely must have been Trevor’s footsteps, snaking along the beach, accompanied by Jake’s tracks and Bruno’s skid marks. He followed the tracks, albeit without conscious thought and ended up at the car park which housed a toilet block. Trevor’s footprints stopped at the base of the tumble where most people climbed up or down.

He stepped up to the car park, finding it empty. Not trusting his footing to go back down to the beach in the dim light, he headed back along the road to the farm, stopping first to take a leak in the toilet block. He zipped up and set off along the road, turning when he heard a car behind him, shielding his eyes against the glare of the headlights which were on full beam. As the car approached, a glint caught Rory’s eye. He looked down and moved his foot to cover whatever it was lest he lose sight of it once the car had disappeared. The car passed and he bent down, slipping his hand beneath his foot to retrieve the object.

It was a bracelet but it wasn’t until he got back to the house that he was able to see it clearly.

“What the fuck?”

It was Tricia’s; or at least, it was one identical to it.

Chapter Seven

Finding that Trevor had already turned in and that Tricia too had returned and gone to bed, Rory put the bracelet in his pocket and headed upstairs himself.

Rory arrived at breakfast the following morning to discover that Trevor had already gone out with the dogs. Upon his return, he looked not only pensive but seemed to be slightly perturbed by Rory’s presence in the kitchen.

“Okay?” Rory asked nonchalantly.

“Yeah …”

“Newport today?”

“Uhm … later … to pay the lads and bring Liam back.”

“He’s not staying long; we just need to run though everything. He wants to ride back in any event to burn off another five hundred calories. Do you want to go out for a drink tonight?”

“Sure …”

Rory got the impression that Trevor had things on his mind and said no more, leaving him to cogitate over the coffee which Rory had brewed. Tricia appeared; taking a mug, she sat down at the table with them.

“Plans today, Tricia?”

“Uhm, final checks and the pick-up from Mary this afternoon; you coming?”

“Absolutely!”

Tricia raised her hand to tuck a stray lock behind her ear and in the process Rory noticed the bracelet she was wearing. The sight of it triggered the memory of the one he’d found.

“Oh … look what I found last night …”

He ferreted around in his pocket and drew forth the bracelet which was identical to Tricia’s.

“I thought it was yours, Tricia.”

“Where did you find it?” asked Trevor.

“In the car park … it’s just like yours, Tricia. Perhaps I should put a notice up or hand it in.”

“If you give it to me, I’ll hand it in when I go to Newport this morning.” Trevor offered.

“Yeah … thanks; it doesn’t look cheap.”

After a breakfast which was peppered merely by the sporadic and unrelated musing of the trio, Tricia headed out into the yard and Trevor got ready to go.

“I’ll do some cleaning today.” Rory offered.

“Oh, don’t worry too much. Tracey will be in for the day on Saturday, now that she’s back from Uni’.”

“Tracey?”

“Robert’s niece. In any event, Robert might need a hand today.”

“Cool … you off then?”

“Yeah … back later and we’ll eat at the pub if you want.”

“Do they do something you can have then?”

“They do a veggie burger and chips.”

Trevor left and Robert turned up. Robert was Trevor and Tricia’s cousin on their mother’s side. Robert’s mum had been the sister of Trevor and Tricia’s mother and was buried in the family plot at the cemetery. Rory hadn’t seen Robert since the wake and it made for a very happy union as they’d been reasonably close at one time.

“Hey! It’s so good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you too, Rory … what’s left of you. Don’t they eat in London?”

“All lean meat, sweetheart!”

“You ain’t turned vegan like Trevor, have you?”

“No way! What you up to? Trevor said you might need a hand with John’s boat.”

“If you’ve got the time. Let me show you the ropes.”

Robert was the same age as both Trevor and Rory yet he appeared to be at least ten years older. Like Trevor, he’d never left the island and his unwordliness was translated into a kind of simplicity which pervaded his mannerisms and views on just about everything. Building boats was his passion and for the most part, his love. Robert lived alone in the cottage that his mother and father had lived in and which his father’s parents and his great-grandparents had inhabited. All the men had built boats; Robert wasn’t letting the family tradition down in that respect. However, Tracey was destined to inherit the cottage.

“I’m rebuilding John’s boat now. I can steam five timbers at a time; but if you have the time, once the timbers are pliable, you could take them out and clamp them and get the next ones into the steamer. It’ll save me time. I’ll pay you.”

“If you show me what to do …”

They loaded the steamer with five planks and closed the lid. Then they filled the water reservoir and turned on the power to generate the steam.

“It gets very hot so be careful. I’ll come back in six hours and check it. If it’s ready, we’ll load them onto the rig.”

Robert showed Rory how the rig could be changed to vary the shape of the curve and how to clamp the poles down.

“They stay in the clamp for up to forty-eight hours depending on the degree of the curvature. These ones for John’s are pretty standard, so they’ll need twelve hours. Once they come off the rig, they get sanded and varnished.”

“Sounds easy enough. I’m working for Tricia but I’ll have the next four weeks free, except for Saturdays and then every morning during the season. I’m manning the van in the car park.”

“Yeah, I know; Trevor said. It’ll be really handy if you’re here on site. See you later; when these come out.”

“We’re going out to eat at the pub tonight; you wanna come too?”

“Sure; it’ll give us time to catch up properly.”

Rory couldn’t feel any better about how things were shaping up for the season. At this rate he’d have more spare cash than he’d had in London.

“Maybe I can get a car … or a motorbike!”

He took the dogs out and then joined Tricia to head over to Mary’s to pick up the ice cream for the weekend. After a cuppa, they hauled the ice cream back and stored it in the barn freezers.

“Four flavours as standard, plus the lollies, drinks and chocolate … tea and coffee, crisps and biscuits … you’re ready!”

“When are we loading and moving over to the car park?”

“Loading at eight o’clock; and you can take it over and open up at around noon until six o’clock. Once the trays and the lolly chest are loaded, we’ll plug the chiller units in to the power outlet at the barn because then you won’t have to keep the engine running.”

“What time are you guys planning on getting back?”

“Booked on the four o’clock … so around five-thirty.”

“Great!

“You and Liam-”

“No! Well … I like him a lot … yeah!”

“Lucky you!”

“Until he gets distracted!”

“Maybe he won’t … and from next week he’s here fitting out the van!”

“God spare me!”

Tricia skipped off, chuckling.

It was three o’clock; Trevor would be back with Liam at five, so there was just time to hike up to the standing stone.

The standing stone was affectionately known as The Longstone; a megalithic monument from Neolithic times. A smaller stone lay at its feet like an altar; though it wasn’t an altar. The stones could have been the entrance to the long barrow which lay to the west. Whatever; it was a special place and a favourite hiking destination. Rory walked to Hulverstone along the road and then took the path up to the stone. It was an easy walk, especially in the dry weather. Around the area, the grass was short and, being warm, Rory sat on the grass to contemplate what was fast becoming his ‘good fortune’ in agreeing with Trevor that ‘it’ll do you good’. There really wasn’t anywhere like the island to be on a day like this.

He did what most people did when they visited the stone; he walked around it and placed his hands on the surface of the upright stone to get his ‘dose’ of the energy. He had just turned away to start the homeward trek when he noticed something on the ground. It was an earring, a drop style earring with a plain white crystal suspended on a thin chain. He popped it in his shirt pocket and headed home.

By the time he got back, Trevor and Liam were in the yard.

“Hey!”

“Hi!”

“Hi …”

Trevor’s ‘hi’ had the question attached to it.

“Been up to the stone to stretch my legs. You guys had a good day?”

“Pretty good,” replied Liam, who had been paid.

“I was gonna walk the dogs, Liam, you wanna join me?” Rory asked, dying for some private time!

“That’ll be great … Boss; you need a hand?”

“I’ve got it …”

Trevor’s reply to Liam’s question was deadpan, much like his face and general demeanour; but then he had been doing the paying!

Rory and Liam headed down to the beach.

“Hey!”

“What?” queried Liam.

“I missed you!”

“Oh, shit; tell me about it. I thought today would never end!”

“Really?”

“Really!”

Rory couldn’t help himself and smiled broadly.

“If you’re here next week then we’ll have to be good … but maybe we should say something to the others.”

“Trevor said if it was easier, then I could stay over next week to do the van and save myself the journey.”

“Did he? That man is truly my best friend!”

“We’d best say something! I ain’t gonna be able to help myself!”

“I’ll tell him … tonight. We’re having dinner at the pub.”

They carried on walking and once they were out of sight of the farm, they held hands, oblivious to everyone else on the beach and to whether anyone might be gawping at them or not. They walked beyond the car park with the toilets and were approaching the last decent place to clamber up to the coastal path.

“Rory … were you ever in love?”

“Uhm … yep; one time … I think … why?”

“How did you feel?”

“Oh boy! You just know because everything is different. The guy in question becomes the centre of your Universe. You ache when he’s not around; would kill to advance the clock; would die for an extra hour in bed … why?”

“Just wondering …”

Rory did not believe anyone just wondered about it; you asked the question when you realised that you might be in love … usually for the first time.

“Where did Trevor say you could sleep? Not in the barn!”

“In one of the guest rooms.”

“Which one?”

“He wasn’t specific!”

The men stopped; Jake sitting down beside them whilst Bruno ferreted and drew circles in the sand as he scurried ceaselessly. Rory turned to plant the first kiss, at the same time sliding his free hand around Liam’s waist to pull him in. Liam let him kiss him for a second or two and then he responded, dropping Rory’s hand and sliding both of his around Rory’s waist. It was a kiss to release a kind of tension. In so doing, the little dam of pent up insecurities was breached; and a trickle became a gushing escape of empty fears. The flood erased all those stupid doubts, like the tide washing away Bruno’s doodles.

“Let’s go back. I have to help Robert and you need to ride back but I’ll ask Trevor for the car if you want a lift.”

“No; it’s fine; I need to train. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes you will; as soon as I’m done with the van I’ll be over.”

“And we’ll both come back here on Sunday?”

“Yes … a week will be a good test.”

“Of what?”

“How we get on!”

“Do you mean then that-”

“Liam … just focus on the competition. Worry about next week afterwards. Everything sorts itself out … don’t frown; worrying about it is banned!”

Unconsciously, they held hands all the way back and didn’t drop them until they reached the gate where Liam stopped and demanded another kiss before he had to leave.

“See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

Liam blushed, shook his head and left straightaway, taking the bike. Rory went to the barn to help Robert, whose car was in the yard.

“Are they cooked?”

“Nearly … I’ll show you the clamp whilst they finish off.”

Robert showed Rory how to adjust the base and check the curvature using some plywood templates he’d cut out. Once the base poles were secured, they placed a piece of foam-like material on the base.

“When the planks are being clamped, the foam stops the poles from making an impression in the wood. I use another piece on the top and sandwich the planks between the foam.”

They had to act quickly because the wood cooled rapidly. Wearing thick gloves, they retrieved the planks from the steam bath and laid them on the base. The planks were pliable, like big sticks of chewing gum. Once the planks were positioned on the base, Robert covered them with the other piece of foam and lowered the cross-spars, locking each one into place.

“By the morning, the planks will have taken on the shape I want …”

And that was it.

They returned to the house to pick up Trevor and amble to the pub. Tricia joined them and Rory took it as the sign that they were ‘good’ now. It turned into a celebration of the new venture.

“Cheers!” they sang out in unison.

“So … Rory; Liam?” asked Robert, who’d seen them walking back along the beach.

Rory blushed crimson and grinned bashfully.

“Early days … we like each other a lot.”

“How much younger?” Robert then teased.

“It’s irrelevant … fifteen years …”

Rory added the number if only to remind him; but that just sought to highlight how ludicrous it probably looked to everyone else.

“… I guess it must look a bit sad.”

“Don’t be silly!”

Rory flashed a look into Tricia’s eyes by way of a thank you.

“Fit bugger; I’ll give you that.”

“Yes, Robert …”

“He’s a good lad.”

It was Trevor’s only comment and practically Trevor’s only contribution to the conversation the entire evening until he marshalled them to go because he and Tricia had an early start the following morning. Robert spoke briefly to John about the boat and then the four of them left and ambled back. Robert left soon after they got back to the house.

“Rory, are you going to be okay tomorrow?”

“Yes, Tricia; absolutely fine.”

“Good! See you when we get back; I’m off to bed. Goodnight.”

“Night!”

Rory and Trevor took the dogs for a final run and Rory knew that Trevor wanted to say something.

“I don’t have a problem with you and Liam but if you can keep the house a ‘smooch and grope free zone’ I’d appreciate it.”

“Trevor! As if …”

“I’ll give Liam the guest room on the other side of the bathroom; the rest is up to you.”

“Thanks … I’m gonna take this one slow.”

They sauntered on for a few minutes.

“You’re good with Robert’s stuff?”

“Yes … suddenly I’m an ice cream salesman and a boat builder!”

“No harm in making hay whilst the sun shines … give you a chance to save a bit.”

“Tricia’s money alone would tide me over … it’s more about having time to think it all through and decide where I’m going.”

“Take the time … and building boats ain’t such a bad thing.”

“Picking up where Richard left off?”

Rory regretted the comment as soon as it had escaped his lips.

“It’s time to move out of that shadow, Rory …” Which had to be one of the most profound things Trevor had ever said to him.

“Yeah … nothing I did ever made him or Dad proud.”

“Do yourself proud … fuck the rest.”

By way of a show of solidarity, they walked back with their arms around each other’s shoulders.

“Night, Trevor.”

“Night, Rory.”

Chapter Eight

They all got up early. Rory and Tricia loaded the van with the stock and plugged the units in to the barns’ power supply.

“Do two flasks of tea and two of coffee … keep a tally of everything in order to update the stock cards … good luck!”

“Thanks!”

Rory waved them off and immediately ran the dogs before running through his checklist of everything that needed to be done. Satisfied, he checked the timbers in the barn and tightened the clamps like Robert had shown him. By which time it was ten-thirty and he took the chance to have a dip and attempt to wear Bruno out before he left the dogs for the afternoon. Showered and changed, ready to don his uniform, he grabbed a bite to eat and then panicked.

“Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!”

Jake gave him that look, the one which said, “You’re selling fucking ice cream not performing brain surgery; get on with it!”

“Quite right!”

Leaving himself with plenty of time to move the van to the car park, set up and check everything twenty more times, he was finally ready and the windows slid back at two pm. To announce the fact, he turned on the PA and blasted the car park with Greensleeves for thirty seconds. Apparently this was the traditional jingle. The car park was empty and feeling like a complete prat, he laughed until his sides hurt.

The first customer turned up at two-thirty and trade was pretty brisk until four. He knew half of the customers though most didn’t recognise him straightaway and the other half had definitely come over just to see if it was true.

“I can do this for the season … this is fun!”

By six o’clock the car park was emptying out again and he’d sold out of the tea and coffee. Vanilla was still the favourite flavour for ice cream followed closely by the mint choc chip; no one had touched the rum and raisin. Lollies and drinks, crisps and biscuits; it all added up to a hundred and thirty-five quid.

“Thirty quid a day for doing this … fucking best job I ever had!”

He closed up and moved the van back to the yard just as Trevor and Tricia pulled in. Tricia rushed over.

“So?”

“Brilliant! And I’ve made one hundred and thirty-five quid!”

“Fantastic! Any problems?”

“None … the tea and coffee just lasted the afternoon. I’m just gonna unload the stock and do the sheets. How was your day?”

“We got it; as you can see …”

It was a classic mk17 Bedford Cummins conversion in blue and white registered in 1978 and looking pretty sorry for itself.

“…Trevor is convinced we’d do better to keep this one stationary and use the one you had today for the mobile route.”

“Once this is refitted, it’s gonna be absolutely amazing … look at the door mouldings!”

“Hooked already? Let’s unload; you need to get off. Take my car tonight. I’m here all day tomorrow working on this, getting it ready for Liam to start on Monday.”

“Okay; thanks!”

Trevor had already disappeared with the dogs and had looked dour, even miserable.

“Trevor looks-”

“He’s missing a certain someone.”

“Oh … how long has it been since William left?”

“Eight months.”

“Still missing him?”

“He sees you and how you are around Liam and it’s reminded him of just how good things were.”

“Why did Will’ leave?”

“Got bored waiting for Trevor to make some kind of commitment; it didn’t come and he headed off … but I didn’t tell you that.”

“No; sure … the business is taking up all of his time though isn’t it?”

“As good an excuse as any … whatever, he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“No; he gave me that impression. Right!”

By seven o’clock, Rory was ready to leave and save for a quick chat with Trevor over minor household stuff, he scarpered and by half past he was knocking on Liam’s flat door, bouncing on his feet. As soon as Liam opened the door, they were on each other like crazed pythons.

“I’m so fucking pleased to see you!”

“Liam; it was only twenty-four hours.”

“Was it? It felt like a week … come on in; did you eat?”

“Ice cream … and then some more ice cream.”

“Oh, shit, sorry; how did it go?”

“It was great and I’ve seen your project for next week; absolute classic van … you never said you were a cabinet maker.”

“Dad made me do the apprenticeship. I love wood but I’m lousy at the rest. I fit out stuff when the fancy takes me.”

“Like the van?”

“Trevor offered me a bonus for doing it in a week; competing ain’t cheap.”

“No, I guess not … so, what do I have to do?”

“I’m gonna get in the posing pouch and you can repair the tan tonight; can’t do it tomorrow because there won’t be time for it to dry. Tomorrow, you’ll need to oil me up and tell me I’m the best … and mean it!”

“You are the best.”

“You haven’t seen any of the others yet!”

“Oh; they can’t be as good as you can they? Get your kit off then and I’ll do your tan lines … what are you wearing to pose in?”

“Most of us wear tight, black Lycra trunks.”

“Get them and let’s have a look; sounds boring.”

“The judges are interested in the body, Rory, not our fashion sense.”

“Of course they are; not! Bet most are gay! Show us these trunks and we’ll see if they cut the mustard …”

Liam pranced to the bedroom and changed into the trunks, waltzing back like he was already on the stage.

“Oh … fuck me!”

“I reckon I stand a good chance of being placed.”

“Everyone is gonna cum in their pants … but I think we can do better. Put the lace trunks on; the ones with the python skin design … ooh, yeah!”

“The lace ones?”

“It’s a show … so show! Get them on!”

Liam looked less confident once he’d donned the underwear.

“They emphasis your thighs more and hug your package … awesome. What’s wrong?”

“You don’t think everyone will just think … you know …”

“I think they’re gonna be pig sick that they didn’t think of it. You’ve got the body; but all the guys have. These will make the judges look twice … and remember you.”

Liam puffed up and strutted around, feeling more comfortable.

“Let’s do the tan stuff and then chill out. Are we eating or are you on rations?”

“Peanuts and green tea … got some pasta for you.”

Liam slipped out of the trunks and Rory slipped on the latex gloves and rubbed the stuff over Liam’s body, drying it off with the hair dryer.

“That stuff stinks!”

“Use this moisturiser; it helps.”

Rory applied the mousse-style moisturiser and it diluted the smell of the tanning product … as well as giving him another excuse to run his hands all over Liam’s body.

“It looks particularly dry there,” Rory alleged, slipping his hand up Liam’s thigh towards his scrotum.

“I’ll be wearing the trunks; no one will see.”

“Pity … anyway, we don’t want the risk of anything … chaffing.”

Liam just sniggered and under the influence of the gentle stroking, grew a little.

“Do you get extra points for that?”

“Disqualified!”

“It gets my vote … it’s beautiful …”

Rory caressed the heavy sack with just his fingertips, watching as the shaft swelled and rose up. He let his fingers slip in between Liam’s thigh and scrotum, barely applying any pressure, making Liam shudder. Rory gripped the sack and squeezed gently to tighten the skin over the ripe toms which he kissed very softly. He carried on kissing, from the base of the stalk along the underside, occasionally gathering the skin between his teeth to nibble. He kissed right up to the blunt tip of the bulbous head which was swollen and glistening like a fat lychee in syrup.

“Rory …” Liam croaked, not knowing what to do with his hands which he kind of flapped about. Once Rory had taken him into his mouth, Liam let his hands fall to Rory’s shoulders to steady himself. As Rory sucked harder, he gripped tighter, clenching and unclenching his buttocks which caused his cock to swell a little each time, pumping out a little pre-cum which Rory slurped up.

Without thinking, Liam placed his hands on the back of Rory’s head and pulled in. Rory could take it and let Liam thrust freely into the tight elastic tube of his cheeks. Rory sensed that Liam was going beyond control and he deliberately pushed himself back and away from the slick pole to slow down the surge and to taste his own burgeoning arousal. Heady from the scent of tanning lotion, moisturiser and ‘man’, he rocked back onto his heels and rested his hands on Liam’s thighs. He looked up into Liam’s eyes which were smiling into his own.

A wicked grin broke out on Rory’s lips.

“Do you want to … practise?”

“Slipping my cock into your mouth felt so good.”

“Let’s get comfortable!” Rory urged.

Despite it being Liam’s flat, Rory towed him to the bedroom. Rory was still dressed and undressing was a good way to steady the pace. In the closer confines of the bedroom they started with a full-on embrace and for the most part they didn’t kiss; each man just wanted to be held. Rory didn’t feel awkward getting undressed; Liam outshone everyone.

“I like your pecs … they’re flatter and not too pumped up like breasts.” Rory commented.

“The key is to get perfect proportions. So many guys bulk up in the chest and arms and they look out of balance. My arse is too small but the abdominals are, as near as damn it, perfect …”

“I need to tone up … I never bulk up … overactive adrenal gland helps keep the weight off. I’m fit enough but scrawny …”

“Don’t compete. To be honest, I like to forget about it when I’m not training or competing. I like to do other things too …”

“The woodwork?”

“Yeah and drawing.”

“I need a cover for the new story; you could do that once I’ve written it.”

“Love to! The body is all about me; but I want to give something else to the man I love … I don’t want to step in the door at the end of the day and be analysed and have my BMI measured; it gets too obsessive.”

“No danger of that although I’m overjoyed of course that you have the body of Adonis but I’d like to get to know you better and do things together.”

The heavyweight conversation needed to be parked as the juices were still rising; and boiling over in Liam’s case.

“Fuck me first; then I’ll massage you,” suggested Rory.

“Can you lie on your back so I can see your face?”

“Anyway you want!”

Rory shrugged his clothes off; lust needed to be dealt with before they got down to any serious foreplay and a second round. He lay back on the bed with his arse perched on the edge, waiting for Liam to lube up.

Liam stepped up and slung Rory’s legs over his shoulders as easily as if they’d been a couple of scaffolding poles.

“Take your time … I want to feel you slide in; open me up slowly …”

Liam did just that and only when he was buried to the hilt did he take a breath. Rory raised his head and begged Liam for a kiss.

“Fuck, Rory!”

“Thrust slowly …”

Liam was in agony; his instinct was thrust as hard and as fast as he could, working his abs like a Spartan. This pace felt wrong until the bubble began to inflate in his groin, the ever expanding envelope of euphoria which infused him like a drug, filling his head with fleeting, indescribable images. Despite the pace, he was panting and groaning like a weightlifter straining to hold up two hundred kilos. Rory’s own bubble needed pricking and he forced along the pace of the counter-thrust and then let Liam have the reins.

“F-U-C-K! I’m cumming!”

At the crucial moment, just before the siphon exploded, Rory clenched and grabbed hold of Liam, holding him tightly, liberating the fuck from within the pounding, the love from within the lust, the desire from within the need, the man from within the lad.

Quakes, heaving sobs and six hammer blows nailed the white flag of submission to the mast.

Liam collapsed, hyperventilating, screaming in choking syllables, sweating like he’d just gone ten rounds with a prize fighter. He slumped, landing on the bed beside Rory, who grabbed the hulk and whispered into his ear, “You were incredible … amazing.”

A smile broke out on Liam’s lips which signalled that the message had got through. Rory found himself in a cage of hard flesh as Liam grappled to have and to keep Rory within his aura; a babe not yet ready to have its cord cut.

It was half an hour before Liam recovered and opened his eyes.

“Welcome back!”

“Oh, Rory … what have you done?”

“What have I done?”

“I love you …”

In a different time and place and with someone other than Liam, Rory would have choked on the incredulity of the statement. How could he doubt Liam? There were a billion reasons to doubt him but he didn’t pay attention to any of them; these shrieking, jealous, selfish sirens; lobbyists, politicians, the pious pricks that wanked behind closed doors, the fawning, spawning jerks he’d spent his life courting.

“I love you … don’t cry, you’ll ruin your make-up!”

Liam chuckled and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand.

“You must think I’m a right twat!”

“Why … because you cried?”

Liam didn’t answer and sought out Rory’s lips instead, kissing out the response in lover’s Morse Code.

Inevitably, hands began to delve, eliciting pleas on both sides.

“Slowly …”

“Lube me up …”

One fuck of liberation was sufficient; Rory’s assault on Liam was rabid and savage; and he couldn’t give Liam more and Liam couldn’t get enough. Their screams earned them a thump on the wall from the neighbour.

“Shower?”

“Yeah … and then we’ll pack your bag and you can tell me who I need to knobble.”

“Who?”

“The competition.”

“I won’t get placed tomorrow but-“

“Oh; sweetheart … you are so getting placed tomorrow. For a start, I’m with you … and you’re the best. Once you’re on the stage, they’ll be calling for buckets!”

“You ain’t seen the other fellas yet.”

“Once you’re out there, no one else will see them either … props, decorations-“

“No … everyone works just as hard as me and we all deserve the chance to show ourselves off-“

“But someone has to win, Liam … and you have to believe that that person is going to be you.”

“Some of these guys have a year’s head start on me.”

“It doesn’t mean anything … Joel thinks you’re ready for the main gig … once you’ve put those pants on, loosened up and been oiled up, you’re gonna wow them.”

“You think so?”

“There isn’t a shred of doubt in my mind … it’s about belief.”

“You’ve just met me-“

“And? I can’t believe in you yet? You’ve gotta pull the curtains back on your heart and soul, sweetie … they’ll make you shine more than any amount of oil and tan … you’re fucking awesome … fact!”

They showered and packed the bag, checking everything on the list so that they didn’t forget anything.

“I’ve got the car so I can drive us to the terminal tomorrow.”

“Good idea … we’re coming back here first, aren’t we? I don’t need to pack for next week yet, do I?”

“No; we’ll come back here for the private celebration!”

“Trevor read me the riot act about next week.”

“He politely asked me to keep things discreet; which is fair enough. You’ve got a guest room in the attic, same as me; I’ve got a double bed …”

Rory sensed that Liam was getting bogged down in the processing.

“… Whatever we want, Liam … this isn’t a holiday romance, a fling or a fuck date; relax … and I’ll try to as well!”

That elicited a chuckle; yeah that was the problem, expectation overload.

Liam practised his routine and Rory stayed out of the way despite wanting to make some suggestions. The movements didn’t flow as far as he was concerned but the routine was designed to show off the body to its best; a dance routine it wasn’t intended to be.

“Which ones do I wear on stage?” Liam queried again.

“The peacock feather ones … they’re cut a little lower.”

“Jesus!”

“Wow, baby … but it’s your body, Liam, and you’ve gotta be proud of yourself … you do have to feel comfortable too. Wear the black ones if you feel better; don’t let that distract you. I’m just saying, from an observer’s point of view, they do it for me.”

“Okay … can we go to bed now?”

“Naturally, sweetheart … we don’t want dark rings under your eyes-”

“To make love …”

“Again?”

“I’ll never get enough of you-”

“Li-”

“Shush … c’mon!”

Chapter Nine

“Champ’ … CHAMP’! It’s time to get up.”

“What time is it?”

“Seven o’clock … we need to leave by nine at the latest.”

“I’m not going.”

“Why?”

“I don’t feel good.”

“What’s wrong … you didn’t eat anything?”

“I don’t feel good.”

“So I got Tango hands for nothing?!”

“I said those gloves were useless.”

“You made me rub my hands over your body … twice, for nothing!”

“I’m sorry … I just don’t want to-”

“Wear the black shorts-”

“It’s not that …”

“What is it then? C’mon, Liam … you’re gonna win this, Tango hands down!”

“The other guys are so much better than I am.”

“Rubbish! I’ve looked at the pictures in the magazine; you’re way better … why don’t you want to go?”

Rory had thought this was just a ruse to get him to get back into bed for another half an hour … apparently not.

The silence was deafening.

“Pete Hardcastle …”

“Who is he, a judge … or a competitor?”

“A competitor … he psyches me out when we compete. I think he has a problem with the fact that I’m gay.”

“You can’t let him ruin your dream … you have to compete; show him.”

“He riles me and gets the other guys to kind of take his side, not that they say anything but I just feel uncomfortable.”

“I’ll be there. This is a whole year’s training. If you don’t compete today then you can’t qualify for the big thing.”

“I know … I just don’t want to have to deal with it.”

“Liam, I understand but there are always jerks trying to stop you from doing the things you want to do; you have to ignore them and look through them. He doesn’t count, nor do his opinions … I have an idea … I’ll help you if you help me.”

Liam dug his head out from under the pillow.

“Are you gonna kill him?”

“Yes … you could say that. We need to stop at the chemist’s on the way.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Never you mind! Get up and showered; there’s time to fix any streaks before we go.”

“Rory …”

“Liam … when you said you loved me, I didn’t believe it could be true … but I think it is … and I didn’t sleep a wink last night thinking about whether I really love you. Okay, I admit, it took me by surprise; I’m not usually first out of the gate … but … all those things I told you about how you feel when you’re in love … they’re true because I feel them. It’s love that’s fresh out of the box but love it is and that means you’ve become the centre of my Universe and I won’t let anyone hurt you. If you don’t want to go today then I won’t be any the less in love with you and I won’t think any less of you … but you will; tomorrow.”

“Rory …”

“C’mon, champ’ … else I’ll have to pose as you and then you’ll never work again … c’mon!”

“Joel just usually drags me out by my hair.”

“That was next on my list.”

“Can we make love first?”

“Yes … because it’s six o’clock, not seven.”

“Get in this bed!”

OoO

“Are you really going to kill Pete Hardcastle?”

“Yes …”

“What did you buy in the chemist’s?”

“If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you too … relax!”

“You really think the peacock ones are the best ones?”

“Yes …”

“Did you remember the oil?”

“Yes …”

“I think I left the admission form on the hall table.”

“It’s in my pocket …”

The entire journey to the leisure centre in Gosport was punctuated by a hundred similar questions and doubts and Rory had the deepest respect for Joel by the time they had reached the centre.

Liam handed in the admission form and received his competitor’s number in return, plus a pass for him and one for Rory to admit them to the changing area.

There were hundreds of people milling about, hoping to catch a look at the next big thing in very little Lycra. The actual changing rooms were not really suitable for the competitors so the leisure centre had cordoned off part of the gymnasium for their use. The rest of the space was dominated by the stage and the seating for the spectators. A typical judges’ table was set up in front of the stage but as yet it was unoccupied.

Most of the other competitors had brought along a manager; someone to oil up, rub down and pull hair.

“Is he here yet?”

“Who?”

“Pete Cuntcastle.”

“No; you’ll know when he is; plays a fucking fanfare on his ghetto blaster!”

“Let’s find our space and get our stuff organised.”

Each competitor had an area of their own with two chairs, a screen to change behind and a floor mat. Rory set up their stuff, using one of the chairs as a makeshift wardrobe. Liam was dressed in his workout gear and after he’d shucked off his tracksuit bottoms and zip through top, he went off to the gym to warm up and do some light weight work. Rory checked the costume and his cornucopia of oils and balms, waiting for the arrival of Pete Hardcastle, which, if Liam was right, would be heralded by a fanfare. The guy arrived alone, not even bothering to switch on the CD player because everyone prostrated themselves on cue.

“What a twat!” thought Rory, unimpressed by the display; and on first impressions, he thought Pete was ripped but too bulky … and resembled an ape.

“We’ll have you!”

For some unknown reason, Pete hadn’t brought his manager along, presumably so arrogant that he didn’t think he needed anyone to tell him how beautiful he was. As luck would have it, he set up in the bay right next to Rory and Liam.

“Who are you?”

“Serge Balaclava … I’m representing Li-”

“Why are there no towels?!”

The pea-sized cock stuffed with steroids waltzed off as only a simian can, to demand said towels from the centre manager.

“Fucking amateurs!” Pete boomed, returning with a half hundred weight of towels.

Rory just smiled politely, waiting for his moment. Pete took off his street top and flaunted the torso for all to see.

“Oh! Forgive me for intruding … but your tan is streaked down your back. Would you like me to fix it?”

Pete looked microscopically at Rory for a second.

“Could you?”

“No worries; just lie on the mat …”

“I had it done yesterday … fucking eighty quid!”

Rory set about his business, spreading the product he’d bought in Boot’s over the awesome back of the recumbent Pete.

“Just lie still for ten minutes and that’ll dry. I’ll finish it off with the gloss.”

“Thanks … who are you again?”

“Serge Balaclava …”

“I don’t even know why I’m bothering today … got my pass for the Beach Body already.”

“I expect a lot of people here today would have been disappointed if you hadn’t turned up.”

“Probably …”

The ten minutes expired and Rory rubbed Pete’s back and applied something called Body Gloss.

“Can I suggest that you keep your top on until you’re called up? It’s a little cool in here today; keep those muscles nice and loose!”

“Yeah … gonna chill for a bit; can’t be arsed to show my face in the gym.”

Rory went off to the gym to find Liam and whisper sweet nothings in his ear. Rory thought Liam looked absolutely magnificent and didn’t hold back on the compliments, copying the lingo of the trainers thereabouts who were all similarly employed, boosting the egos of their own hopefuls.

“Pete is in the bay next to ours; do not rise to the bait! He’s a bully and he’s saggy arsed. I forbid you to cower and sniffle!”

“Was Paul with him?”

“No; he arrived alone.”

“That’s something … right! I need to get oiled up and dressed.”

“C’mon then!”

When they returned to the changing area they found that Pete was absent and elicited from someone else the information that he’d gone off to do an interview with the local newspaper.

“You are the body, Liam … your muscles are erect cocks and I’m a sweet, tight arse; make me proud, CHAMP!”

“Rory, sweetheart …”

“What?”

Liam just laughed and stripped for the oiling up … behind the screen!

“That’s right, bend over and show me the money … ooh, what a fucking masterpiece … thrust, baby; give me the look; make me want you … I can’t believe Joel says all this.”

“He does! Not as sleazily as you I admit.”

“Squeeze those buns … fuck my face, GLADIATOR!”

“Rory! I’m getting hard!”

“Do you want me to toss you off?”

“NO!”

“Right … focus, Liam … should I slap you a few times?”

“Not unless you want to be eating the floor! … Get the trunks.”

Rory slipped out from behind the screen to grab the peacock feather patterned lace trunks.

“Slip these on, tiger … it’s my arse you’re putting on; fuck those pants!”

“Rory! Shut up!”

“Sorry … I love you!”

“Love you!”

The competitors were given their ten minute curtain call over the PA system. Rory affixed the competitor’s number disc to the hip of the trunks, gratuitously fondling Liam’s package.

“You look fucking amazing!”

“Do I really?”

“Oh, please! No one here is worthy enough to lick the sweat from your pits … except me. Get your top on, stay focused, think Beach Body, think fifty thousand pound modelling contract, think a million adorning fans wanking over that magazine cover, think-”

“Rory … less thinking … let’s go!”

The competitors assembled in a kind of corral and were called up one by one to strut in front of the judges. Liam had a middle order number which meant he would be eleventh up and the halfway point. After all of the competitors had shown off solo, they all came out together to pose; it was more of a crowd pleaser. After that, the top six came out again and then the three placed competitors were announced by the chairman of the judges.

Liam and Rory walked out of the changing area into the main arena. The general hum dropped to a deafening silence for a few seconds before the place erupted.

The applause, cheers, whoops and whistles were totally unprecedented and it wasn’t immediately obvious to the men why the crowd was reacting in such a way. Liam thought Pete Hardcastle must have taken his top off. Rory twigged first and whispered to Liam, “Definitely the peacock ones, sweetheart!”

Liam was totally blown away and was about to turn tail when Rory insisted that he took his top off and give them all a twirl.

“Milk it baby; just like you’re gonna milk me later!”

The hubbub drew the attention of Pete who was still being interviewed and photographed by the local newspaper. They dropped Pete and scurried over to Liam, leaving Pete standing on the sidelines like a spare prick.

Order was finally restored and the MC announced the first competitor. As it happened, Pete was up last; a ploy on his part to obliterate everything that had come before him; trouble was, everyone was going to have cum before he made the stand!

Each competitor had a few minutes to pose solo. There came a point when Liam sank totally into his zone and Rory just had to stand by and wait for Liam’s number to be called, garnering his whoops and whistles for the moment when number eleven was called out. It seemed to Rory that Pete was trying to edge closer to Liam; and it looked as if he was planning to deliver a psyche-out blow just before Liam went on. He would have succeeded had Rory not taken the initiative and waylaid him, begging for an autograph.

Just before Liam was called, he looked round to find Rory’s face. It was one of those times when everything just instantly freezes. Liam looked and Rory smiled broadly.

“I love you,” he mouthed to Liam.

The words coincided with the music starting which Liam used to accompany his routine. The upsurge of energy from the crowd catapulted Liam onto the stage.

“Definitely the peacock ones!” Rory chuckled to himself before whooping and hollering with the rest, unashamedly letting the tears roll down his cheeks.

Liam came off and dived straight over to the changing area to cool down. Rory joined him.

“Fucking unbelievable!”

“We’ll see …”

Rory found it hard to rein in his emotions but the first set was only part of the equation.

“You’ll get picked for the final selection without doubt,” he offered, failing to quell the bouncing and the hopping.

“They save the best until last …”

It was approaching the moment of Pete’s curtain call. Liam was lying on the mat with a towel over his face. Rory was standing at the edge of the changing area, watching for the moment of truth to emerge.

“Number Twenty …”

The MC announced Pete’s number and he bounced onto the stage like a prize fighter, still wearing his top. Of course he had his own fans and his reception was raucous. Like a cheap and talentless stripper, he peeled off the top and let it slide down his back, before he whipped it away. The crowd faltered, the whooping became a cough; the cheers turned to jeers and the cooing to booing.

Pete didn’t know what was happening but continued with his performance regardless, albeit the timing was off and the day-glow smile had been eclipsed by a thundercloud. Before the end of the routine, the crowd had slowly joined together to chant one word, ‘OFF’ and it was getting louder and louder.

Liam woke up, throwing off the towel and jumping to his feet, “what the fuck is going on?”

“Appears Pete wanted to send a message …”

The music came to the end and Pete left the stage falteringly, completely clueless as to the reason for the crowd’s hostile reaction. An official threw him his top, ordering him to ‘cover up’.

One of the other competitors leaned towards Pete, whispering something into his ear and causing the man to look over his shoulder in his efforts to see something on his back.

“What the fuck does it say?” queried Liam, angling for a better view of the words on Pete’s back.

“It says … ’I HATE QUEERS’ …”

“What the fuck? Is he insane … half the crowd is gay!”

There was a riot in the corral as competitors, officials and some of the crowd jostled Pete out of the enclosure.

The MC piped up over the PA, “Ladies and Gentlemen … ladies and gentlemen, competitor number twenty has been disqualified …”

Liam began to move over to the corral to find out for himself what the fuck had happened. Rory sneaked behind the screen to avoid Pete who was fighting his way back to his changing area, where he hastily grabbed his stuff and practically ran out of the hall.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats for the group show …”

Boos were replaced by screams and shouts and before Liam could turn and seek out Rory who was now standing at the side of the room, the group swept him up onto the stage to the fanfare of ‘We Are The Champions’ by Queen. As a show of solidarity, the rest of the competitors marshalled Liam to the front of the stage even though he hadn’t actually won anything yet.

The five minutes of group show and tell turned into a riot of seething limbs and gyrating hips. The stage was finally cleared for the announcement of the six competitors who would be called back up and from whom the winners would be chosen. Rory didn’t think there was a cat in hell’s chance that Liam would not be one of the six; not after that display.

“Will the following competitors please make their way back to the stage … four … ten … eleven … sixteen … seventeen … nineteen …”

Liam was number eleven and he frantically sought out Rory who had now advanced to the edge of the corral, sensing the moment had come.

“I love you!” Liam mouthed.

“I love you! Go, tiger!!” Rory shouted, oblivious to the stares from some the other guys and the marshals.

The six men climbed back onto the stage to ‘Simply The Best’ by Tina Turner. To Rory’s mind, Liam looked shell-shocked but the energy and the emotions carried him through the few minutes of deliberation before the event director called for hush so that the three placings could be announced.

“Ladies and Gentlemen …”

A few minutes of thanksgiving and congratulations were endured before the final placings were announced. Someone handed the man an envelope and after the crowd had finished applauding, he opened the envelope and took out a card.

“All of the finalists receive an invitation to Beach Body being held on the Isle of Wight in June. Okay, in third place … number nineteen …”

The expected eruption from the stands welcomed the guy back to centre stage to receive his bronze medal and a cheque for two hundred and fifty pounds.

“ … In second place … number four!”

The guy looked confused and worried, no doubt expecting one of the higher numbers to be called. He very tentatively took the silver medal and a cheque for five hundred pounds.

“…Ok, hush please … the winner of The Body Beautiful – Solent is … number eleven …”

Rory’s jaw hit the deck and Liam looked round. Rory quickly gathered his senses, “LIAM … THAT’S YOU!”

Liam burst into tears and Rory did what all managers do under such circumstances; he jumped up onto the stage and enveloped the shaking and crying Liam in his arms.

“You did it, sweetheart!”

Liam’s reply was lost in the melee and the blast of ‘Gonna Fly Now’, the theme from Rocky. In the swirling mass of bodies, the director managed to hand Liam his gold medal and a cheque for seven hundred and fifty pounds.

The boys managed a final hug before the tsunami broke over them.

“I love you!”

“I love you, too!”

The carnival didn’t end for half an hour and even then the newspaper people wanted photographs and interviews. A stream of fans wanted autographs and their picture taken with the champ’.

By and by the hall emptied and whilst Liam was touching base with people he knew and signing more autographs, Rory packed up their things ready for the journey home.

Eventually, the boys were by themselves.

“Congratulations, Liam!”

“Thanks … but you haven’t told me what happened with Pete Hardcastle.”

“Later … let’s go home … did you text Joel?”

“I did; he’s pig sick!”

“He needn’t worry; he’ll be there for the big one.”

“You too!”

“Of course … c’mon …”

Chapter Ten

When they pulled into the yard at the farm, Joel was waiting to welcome Liam back. The boys had popped into the flat to pick up Liam’s gear for the week ahead and then driven back to the farm to celebrate with everyone else.

Liam and Joel hugged each other and cried like babies.

“He won?”

“Yes, Trevor, he won and he was fucking amazing!”

“Am I gonna need to look for another labourer?”

Rory ignored the question because it sounded churlish. Instead he separated Joel and Liam and took some photographs with the medal around both of their necks.

Trevor broke open a bottle of champagne and Rory toasted Liam and Joel, who in reality had worked just as hard.

Things quickly broke up thereafter and Liam sorted out and stowed his tools in the barn whilst Rory took his suitcase upstairs, putting Liam’s things in the chest of drawers in his room. He dragged the pillows out of the other room and made his bed up for two and not one.

Trevor was standing outside the door when Rory turned round to go back downstairs.

“I promise that we’ll be good, Trevor.”

Trevor’s eyebrows danced and he swallowed.

Rory threw him a smile, “Did you take the dogs out; else I’ll do them now?”

“I did them …” Trevor replied flatly.

“Great …is everything okay?”

“Yeah … did you want something to eat?”

“Maybe a snack … still coming down actually; it was very exciting.”

“I’ll do some cheese on toast …”

Trevor turned and disappeared down the stairs, leaving Rory with a feeling which suggested that things were brewing to some kind of disclosure; though what it might be, he had no idea.

“You’re gonna pop, pal if you don’t tell me soon!”

OoO

Tricia insisted on a blow-by-blow account of the whole event. When it came to the incident with Pete, Liam looked at Rory and demanded to finally know what the hell had transpired.

“He asked me to fix his tan … so I did.”

“What with?” questioned Liam.

“Hair removal cream … it takes the tan off.”

“But you spelt out I hate queers on his back?”

“Yes … because he does and I thought he’d like everyone to know … and he was right, they did!”

“You sabotaged his performance and now everyone hates him.”

“Liam … when I said that I’d never let anyone hurt you, that’s exactly what I meant …”

Trevor and Tricia were stunned and a little embarrassed at this rather private display of love and devotion.

“But he has the best body …”

“Be that as it may … and I personally think his arse is saggy but … be that as it may, he’s an evil little shit and a bully … by psyching out you and the rest he was cheating in a way.”

“But we’d let him get away with it …”

“Not anymore he doesn’t and if he does risk coming to the event in June, he’ll find a very different reaction waiting …”

“Rory …”

“Liam … I love you.”

This last was too much for Trevor, who grabbed Bruno and exited smartly, leaving Tricia at the table in tears.

Silence reigned for a few minutes.

“I’d best go after him … I didn’t mean to embarrass him … why don’t you sort your stuff out, Liam? I’m sorry, Tricia … you know me and my mouth at times.”

“You did a very brave and beautiful thing … I’m really proud of you.”

She left the table and strode quickly to her room, leaving the boys alone at the table.

“It’s only Sunday!” Liam jested.

“I don’t have much of an encore …”

“Don’t you?”

“Get that insanely glorious arse of yours upstairs … I’ll be there after I’ve spoken to Trevor.”

Rory yanked Jake out of his basket and headed out to find Trevor whom he knew would be on the beach.

“Trevor! TREVOR!”

Rory jogged down the beach to catch Trevor up, “Trevor! I’m sorry!”

“Don’t … it’s just … William … FUCK!”

It was exactly what Rory was waiting for; the outpouring which was long overdue. Rory encased him in his arms and gripped tightly, exorcising the demon of regret and pain.

“I miss him so much,” Trevor heaved.

“Let it all out,” Rory gently coaxed, feeling Trevor slump against him.

For fifteen minutes, Trevor just sobbed his heart out whilst Rory held him up.

“C’mon … it’s done.”

Trevor took control of himself and straightened up, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

“Thank you.”

“Shush … just gotta let it out, sweetheart.”

“It’s so hard because he was so right for me and I pushed him away.”

“Call him …”

“He’s long gone.”

“Probably not … anyway, let’s go back and have a drink.”

Trevor allowed himself to be towed back, much like Jake. Rory deposited Trevor at the kitchen table and popped the kettle on.

“Tea? Unless you want something stronger …”

“No … tea would be good.”

“Okay … what’s the plan for next week?” Rory asked matter-of-fact, assessing that it was best to get the car crash of emotions off the road.

“Uhm … Liam is here working on the van … you’re helping Robert and I’m covering for Liam.”

“Good! Plenty to do … and it will give you time to think about things … everything. If Will’ was the one, then go and tell him so and ask him to come back.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“He won’t unless you ask him … where is he?”

“Hayling Island.”

“A day trip …”

“I’m going to bed … thank you!”

“No worries … I love you.”

“Love you too … night.”

“Night.”

Rory locked up and ascended the stairs to find Liam, who was showering.

“Hey!”

“Hey!”

Rory stepped into the cubicle, suddenly feeling tired and grimy.

“How’s Trevor?”

“He’s better for a little cry … it’s all about William and why he left … he’ll sort it. Now, what does the champ’ want to do?”

“Crash! I still can’t fucking believe it …”

“There’s a gold medal on the chest of drawers that says it true.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you-”

“You alone were on that stage, Liam …”

“It didn’t feel like that.”

“Joel said you need to take this week off and recover.”

“I know … I’ll work on the van and drop the workout for a week; swimming and walking the dogs will do for me.”

“And a little bedroom gymnastics?”

“Don’t start! I did the sound-proofing in this place and it ain’t that good.”

“Just a cuddle … a little rubbing … a kiss.”

“Oh God!”

“Bite down on the pillow and we’ll blame the rest on the dogs … you can sleep by yourself if you want.”

“After what you said at the table?”

“Too much too soon?”

“More than I des-”

“Shush! Let’s just get into bed and cuddle up. I was with you all day and for the most part you were practically naked … and I had to share you with everyone else.”

“Not tonight; not ever. I love you.”

“C’mon …”

They snuggled up for precisely thirty seconds before the delving began. In reality, neither man was up for the full Monty; being together and holding each other was like full-blown sex when they knew that there was a lifetime of nights to look forward to. Eventually, drowsy and not really with it, Liam turned over onto his stomach and Rory lay half on top of him; his cheek pressed to the gently snoring giant’s back, allowing himself to be lulled off by the regular rhythm of Liam’s heartbeat.

“I love you, Liam.”

“Mmmmm …”

“I think my choice of the peacock ones clinched it.”

“Mmmmm …”

“Do I get half the money?”

“Fuck off!”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, your stash is safe … unlike your arse … bite down!”

Chapter Eleven

Rory left Liam in bed on Monday morning and sneaked out to run the dogs and have a swim before the house woke up. He had energy and optimism about the future; longings for Des’ began to feel like an old headache; bad enough to remember but no longer painful; somehow comforting.

Refreshed and just the right side of numb, Rory exited from the surf and ran up the beach to grab his towel. From his vantage point it was just possible to see the barn and the top of the door. The sunrise caught the steel and the glint caught his attention; the door slid back and then closed again, all within the space of three seconds.

Assuming that either Trevor or Tricia was now up, he jogged back up the switchback and through the gate, running through his mind the list of things he wanted to get done; chief amongst them, to write chapter two of the story and get some of the timbers prepared for Robert to collect.

As Rory passed through the gate, Trevor entered the yard from the kitchen door.

“Morning!”

“Bit chipper aren’t we, Rory?”

“It’s such a beautiful morning! I’ll get the coffee on.”

“Be with you in a minute; gotta get something out of the freezer for dinner tonight. Liam can’t go a day without meat apparently!”

“Gotta keep my boy honed … and it’s half a day!”

Rory went in to get the coffee on and then remembered that he’d seen the barn door open and close before Trevor had appeared in the yard, suggesting that Tricia had been out to the barn already. Her door was shut.

Rory made the coffee and powered up the laptop to re-read the first chapter and get himself primed for an hour’s writing before Robert arrived.

Trevor came back with a chicken and a pack of bacon.

“You’ll have to prepare it; I can’t stand to touch it anymore …”

“No worries … what time are you leaving today?”

“Ten o’clock; first the bank and then it’s over to a site at Whippingham.”

“Does Liam know what you want him to do?”

“Tricia will sort that and once he’s made a list of the stuff he needs, she’ll go to the DIY place and get it for him.”

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Whatever … you decide … just gonna take a shower.”

“Okay …”

Trevor disappeared upstairs and Tricia came in from the yard.

“Hey!”

“Hey …”

“Coffee?”

“Thanks …”

“Liam’s still dead to the world; I think the excitement finally got to him!”

“I was checking the van to make a list of the stuff we need for the refurbishment. Once he’s decided what wood he wants I’ll go and get it for him. Did you see Trevor?”

“Yeah, when I came back from my swim he was heading over to the barn to get the meat out of the freezer for dinner … he’s taking a shower and then he’s heading off to Whippingham.”

“Did you guys talk last night?”

“Yes … about William. I told him to go and get him if he really thinks that Will’ is the one.”

“Maybe he’ll listen to you because he damn well never listens to me!”

“He just needs to let it all out and be honest with himself.”

“That’ll be the day … you’re helping Robert but if Liam needs a hand can you help him?”

“Of course! That’s my new office!”

Tricia chuckled dryly and took her coffee back to her room. Rory defrosted the bacon in the microwave and started the breakfast buffet which Liam had ordered.

“How is it he gets meat and I don’t?”

Trevor reappeared, Liam close on his heels, lured out of his pit by the aroma of bacon.

“Oh boy! That smells good!”

“See you boys later.”

Trevor left and Rory queried the time as it was way too early for him to be leaving for the bank; but the quiz got displaced by a sweet little smooch.

“Morning!”

“Morning, tiger!”

“If I’m a tiger then you must be an eleph-”

“Morning, Liam.”

“Oh, hey, Tricia … just having some breakfast then I’ll look at the van.”

“Take your time …”

Breakfast was convivial if a little forced since Liam wasn’t that pally with Tricia and actually confessed to being a little bit afraid of her. After breakfast, he and Tricia went to survey the van and Rory continued writing until Robert arrived. As he pulled into the yard, Tricia and Liam headed off to the DIY centre.

Robert took a coffee and the men went to the barn to sort the timbers for steaming and the ones which were coming off the rig which needed to be sanded and treated.

After a simple run through of what needed to be done, Robert left, planning to return later to pick up the timbers which Rory was going to prepare and to check on those which they’d loaded into the steamer.

The curved timbers which they had taken off the rig were lined up on their edges to preserve the curvature and each one was picked up, placed on the sanding table, clamped and sanded by hand, before being sealed, primed and varnished. Robert used a spray gun to save time and the spray tent for this purpose was housed at the other end of the barn in a plastic sheet enclosure. All-in-all, four hours work for which Robert paid Rory forty pounds in cash.

“If only you could see me now, Rick!”

Richard had worked for Robert’s dad, alongside Robert and when Robert had inherited the business, he’d worked for him until the day before he’d killed himself. The apparent lack of manual skills on Rory’s part had set them apart as brothers. It had given their father plenty of ammunition to play with, using it to fuel arguments between the two boys; and he’d only done that to provide himself with the excuse to beat the two of them, masking the drink induced savagery which everyone knew about but did nothing to curb.

Rory set to and was unaware of the return of Tricia and Liam because he was in the spray area and because the compressor was so loud he had to wear ear defenders. Liam jumped him and narrowly avoided being varnished!

“Fuck!”

“Sorry …”

“Don’t just stand there looking fucking gorgeous; get the kettle on.”

“Yes, boss!”

Rory continued with the task in hand and finished the batch of planks which needed to be varnished. Breaking off to grab the much hoped for tea drew his attention to a twinge in his shoulder.

“I rubbed him all over, so he can rub me!”

He exited the barn to sit in the sunshine.

Liam was stripped off, languishing in just his shorts, lying on the grass.

“Where’s my tea?”

Liam raised an arm, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the house, towards the table where Tricia was seated, checking the receipt from the DIY superstore.

“Did you get everything?”

“Yes; we’re going to start after this … you’ve been busy!”

“I wanted to get a little bit ahead so that I had time for a swim and I haven’t started dinner yet; apparently there’s meat to handle.”

Tricia looked over her sunglasses at Liam; “I think you can handle it.”

Rory just chuckled, reddening a little.

“Liam; don’t get burnt … best you move; you’re looking a little red.”

“Nice try …”

Tricia wandered back into the house, leaving Rory to cogitate. Des’ had wowed him off his feet at the start; pressed all the buttons and had him bewitched until the gloss got rubbed off by repeated disappointments; missed dates, petty jealousies, selfishness, confidence eroding jibes and wandering eyes. If he was honest, he’d been relieved when Des’ had flown off to Spain and decided not to come back; the decision made by a waiter called Juan.

“Don’t blow this, Rory … okay blow it but don’t blow it!”

Liam had stepped over, catching Rory with that pensive look on his face.

“Penny for them …”

Rory looked up and smiled, “Coq au vin?”

“Is that hygienic?”

“I’ll wipe it down … I meant for dinner tonight.”

“Not too much fat … can’t go up a dress size; those trunks cost sixty quid!”

“Leave it to me … fancy a swim?”

“I have work to do.”

“Tricia’s having a nap …”

“Okay … Rory …”

“Yeah?”

“I love you … I mean it.”

“I know, sweetheart … and I love you … if it looks like I’m screwing up, just give me a nudge.”

“What do you mean? You won’t …”

“I … I can get intense … just tell me to lighten up. The whole centre of the universe thing; it’s true but it can scare people off.”

“What you did to Pete was scary … in a good way … but stuff like that is hard to repay … let’s swim!”

A splash, a smooch, a grope and a romantic walk along the beach set them up for the afternoon. Rory finished the timbers and set to work to create a lean dinner. Liam set to work to re-create the interior of the van, upgrading the wiring for an onboard water boiler to make fresh tea and coffee. Tricia planned a new sink unit and a microwave, a bigger freezer compartment and more storage. It all required better carpentry than Trevor possessed, hence the invitation to Liam.

By six o’clock when Rory announced that dinner would be half an hour, Liam was done for the day and showering. Trevor was back and walking the dogs and Tricia was in the kitchen, opening the wine and laying the table.

“Trevor’s planning to go and see William tomorrow …”

“Is he? Shit!”

“I didn’t tell you … but I think he’ll tell you himself anyway. I don’t know what he’s going to say to Will’ …”

“Come back?”

“He’s got to convince him that things will be different … he can’t do that unless Will’ agrees to come back and give him a second chance … I’m not sure Will’ is going to believe anything he says.”

“So it could get worse before it gets better …”

“Yeah … I’m going over with him but I’m going shopping in Portsmouth … will you guys be okay?”

“Absolutely! Are we just opening on the weekend again?”

“If you can do Saturday then I’ll do Sunday; you need a day off with Liam don’t you?”

“I do … thanks.”

“I’ll call the boys down … oh, John called earlier; he wants to see you sometime this week … he didn’t say what it was about.”

“Oh … fine; maybe Liam and I will go up tomorrow … then we can leave it to John to spread the news.”

“I think most people will already know … I’ve seen the picture on the front of the paper-”

“Which picture?”

Tricia retrieved the newspaper from her room. It had a picture of Rory and Liam at the event, kissing on stage.

“Oh God! They had to print that one?!”

“Sex sells!”

Dinner was relaxed for the most part. Trevor was quiet but everyone knew why and steered the conversation away from the sensitive subjects. Trevor disappeared early on the pretences of having worked all day and having an early start the next morning. Tricia disappeared too, leaving Liam and Rory to clear up.

“I’m just gonna walk the dogs, Liam.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“The dogs need walking, Liam.”

“I can’t help it if I can’t get enough of you.”

“Isn’t that my line?”

“It can be mine too … you’re nothing like the other guys I’ve been out with; you don’t compete or get pissed if I have to work out every day. You’re funny and sexy … and then there’s the-”

“Stop!

“… the dinners you lovingly prepare for me and the endless cups of tea; not to mention your beautiful smile and the way you make me feel.”

“Oh, sweetheart … thanks.”

“’Course-”

“Don’t spoil it! You’re on a roll!”

“I’d be lying if I didn’t say I love your sex.”

“Big isn’t beautiful.”

“Big isn’t just beautiful … and if you weren’t so considerate, I wouldn’t want it … you are and I do.”

“Christ, Liam! Did you borrow Tricia’s Woman’s Weekly?”

It seemed to have been the wrong thing to have said and Rory realised it the moment Liam frowned.

“Fuck! I’m sorry … that sounded terrible …”

“Everyone thinks I’m stupid-”

“I didn’t say that; I don’t think that.”

“I find it hard to express myself … I read stuff but it doesn’t always make sense straightaway.”

“Liam … I’m sorry … I guess London has made me a little cynical.”

“When the business failed, everyone said see, I told you; except Trevor that is … if they’d paid their fucking invoices on time it might never have happened …”

Rory didn’t have the right words but he did have two arms to wrap around Liam’s waist and a pair of lips to kiss away the tears.

“C’mon; the tide’s out.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too … you’re the champ’ and I’m so lucky.”

“Fetch the towels.”

“Skinny dipping?”

“Sure … and maybe we’ll dip something else …”

Liam made love to him on the beach and Rory had never felt closer to the centre of someone else’s Universe than at that moment.

Chapter Twelve

“Good luck …”

“Thanks!”

“Tell him exactly how you feel … don’t expect him to jump in the car and come back with you today … and if you think you know why he left, then think about how you’re going to put that right.”

“Putting up scaffolding is a lot easier.”

“It’s not so different … see you tonight.”

“Bye …”

Rory waved Trevor and Tricia off and set to work on the next batch of timbers for Robert. Liam surfaced a little later.

“Do you need my help today?” he asked Liam.

“Maybe later … you okay?”

“Perfect! You?”

“Absolutely okay … what’s for dinner?”

“Uhm … chicken curry for us, vegetable curry for the others … which reminds me; I need more bacon out of the freezer. Fancy a drink tonight? Apparently John wants a word with me.”

“Sure … time for a swim?”

Rory didn’t answer and simply plucked the towels off of the airer.

They wandered down to the beach, leaving the gate open so that the dogs could help themselves. The beach was deserted so they dispensed with the trunks and ran screaming into the surf naked, launching off immediately to dispel the shock.

After a scoot about, they exited the water, rubbing each other vigorously, teeth chattering.

“I’m gonna miss this next week.”

Rory was suddenly beset by a hundred thoughts.

“What is it, hon’?” Liam asked, seeing the frown appear.

“I guess I hadn’t thought about you going back to Newport. I know it’s only eight miles away but …”

“Move in with me then …”

A hundred thoughts, a hundred questions and a hundred doubts.

“What about the van? From Easter I’m manning it every day.”

“Not until the afternoon.”

“If I had a car it would be easier …”

These vague questions and half-baked ideas merely masked the big issue … commitment; and what is love without it? Love without commitment is a man driving to Hayling Island to redeem himself in the eyes of the lover who he had abandoned for the lack of commitment. Such gifts, like love, treated so shabbily will break or tear. How is it that something as precious as love given freely is abused so readily? Rory frowned deeper with these thoughts and felt almost bereft when he realised what a shoddy job he’d always made of the one thing he’d always apparently valued so highly.

“If I win the competition, I’ll buy you one,” offered Liam, slightly at a loss.

“It’s not that … I’ve really only now begun to realise what commitment is all about … can you spare a minute?”

“Sure … what?”

“Come upstairs …”

Liam wasn’t sure if Rory intended to show him something and allowed himself to be towed to the bedroom which they now shared.

“Don’t say a word!” Rory demanded gently, placing a finger to Liam’s lips which were half cocked in a nervous smile.

Liam was wearing his vest top and shorts as usual and as soon as Rory started to pull at the top to lift it over Liam’s head, Liam smiled more broadly. Rory cast the top aside and immediately placed his hands on Liam’s chest, leaning in to place a kiss between the hard pats of muscle. As usual, Liam didn’t know what to do with his hands and flapped them around before settling them on Rory’s waist. Rory stroked the firmer-than-sponge-cake mounds, eliciting a stifled groan from Liam. With Liam’s nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, Rory lifted his head and planted his lips on Liam’s. A sound like Jake’s belly grumbling accompanied the caress.

“Turn round …” Rory demanded in the same gentle voice.

Liam was reluctant to let go, stealing another kiss before he turned, painfully relinquishing his hold on Rory’s waist. Rory’s hands moved down to Liam’s waist where he slipped his fingertips under the waistband of the shorts, momentarily concentrating on the sensation of his fingers finding the edge of the pelvis and the hollow beside the prominent bone on either side. Liam’s back was honed as if sculpted and the canal formed by the muscles within which his spine sat was deep with rounded edges; a teasing roadway which Rory travelled along with his tongue until he reached the waistband. According to Liam, he needed to work on his glutes. Rory wasn’t convinced and to his eye, the twin mounds curved outwards in a perfect arc which tightened as the buttocks joined the very tops of the thighs. The unholy haunches he’d christened them!

Reaching round to slip the belt through the twin steel rings was erotic in its own right. Momentarily, Liam placed his hands on Rory’s and they interlaced their fingers, squeezing gently. Rory released his first to tweak the button and slowly unzip the cut-off cargo pants; he knew from their swim that Liam wasn’t wearing any underwear. The heavy cotton fabric slipped down easily, pooling at Liam’s feet, where he kicked them away along with the AT’s he was wearing.

Rory placed his cheek against the buttocks and hugged tightly, his arms crossed over Liam’s thighs. Relishing the continuation of the journey, he smiled and turned his head to press his lips into the top of the tight crease just below the tail of Liam’s spine; that tiny patch of soft fluffy down which in Liam’s case was golden blond and softer than silk.

Scents invaded his head; salt tang, sweat, cotton laced with Swarfega, the moisturising mousse and Liam’s own scent which was reminiscent of horses and dogs, alluringly bestial, sinful, enticingly bewitching … and as horny as fuck.

Deeper he ploughed with his lips and tongue, fighting to open the tract to get the tip of his tongue on the edge of the flattened daisy.

“R-o-r-y!”

His name from those lips sounded sweeter than it ever had from any other. It fuelled the frenzy; he pushed his face deeper, drowning himself in sex until he needed to breathe.

“Turn round,” he begged, desperate to have Liam’s stalk swell and fill his mouth.

Liam spun round, immediately gripping the back of Rory’s head to aid the plunging; need fuelled desire; desire ignited yearning; yearning turned to abandon. Rory clasped the back of Liam’s thighs and pulled in, burying his face in Liam’s groin, becoming insensible to everything else that was going on. The untidy jerking morphed into a fluid thrusting until Liam clenched and bucked out his load deep into the hungry throat, punctuating the release with barks which grew softer, ending in a satisfied ‘F-U-C-K!’

Light-headed, Rory fell back, lowering himself to the floor, automatically holding out his arms to envelope Liam who dropped down onto his knees, toppling into the embrace.

“What was it you wanted to show me?”

“My commemorative spoon collection … I’m particularly fond of the one from Dymchurch …”

“Crazy sod! I love you …”

Rory reached up and plucked something from the bedside table which was just within reach.

“I love you … I can’t let you go.”

Rory dropped the object into Liam’s palm.

“What’s this?”

“My father left his wedding ring to Richard because he was the eldest; Richard was married with it … and buried with it. This is my mother’s ring. I’ve worn it on a chain around my neck ever since the day she died.”

“But, Rory …”

“She always tried to protect me … I can’t think of a better way to tell you that I love you … and I’ll protect you too.”

“Rory … you … we … I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything … it’s a commitment ring … thing; oh shit!”

It would have been difficult to say who cried more.

“Move in … please.”

It made all the sense in the world now.

“I promised Tricia that I’d work the season.”

“So? No worries; I’m at work all day and I’ll be working out every night until the competition.”

“There might be times when I’m too tired to make it over.”

“So I’ll grab the bus or ride the bike … get a lift from John or Robert … we’ll be okay.”

“I know … I was scared at how quickly you’ve become so important to me.”

“Just chill, babe … do you want your spoon polishing?”

“Later; after work when we can take our time. C’mon, I’ll help you with the van.”

They levered themselves up to their feet. Liam grabbed his clothes whilst Rory went to the bathroom to splash his face and take a leak. When he returned to the bedroom he saw Liam looking at the photograph which John had handed Rory at the pub.

“You haven’t changed but Trevor looks much older.”

“It must be twelve years ago now. I think they’d been married for four years before Richard died and that was eight years ago this year.”

Liam was well acquainted with the events, as was everyone else.

“Do you miss him?”

“Yes … despite everything. He was my older brother and I loved him. But like Dad, he never talked about his problems … if only he’d …”

“Shush …”

After a few tears that Liam wiped away with his hand and a kiss to restore the smile on Rory’s face, they went back to work and had the basic wood framework installed by the time they called it quits to get ready for the jaunt to the pub. They left the dogs in the house and locked up, choosing to walk to the pub.

“What do you think he wants?”

“Search me … he can be a snidy bastard at times.”

“Maybe he wants to know if it’s true.”

“The camera never lies … did you see the front page?”

“Yes!”

The weather was nice enough to sit in the garden, so when they arrived, Liam headed in to get the first round, leaving Rory to find a table. A few minutes later, John ambled out, searching for Rory.

“Rory …”

“Hello, John … Tricia said you’d called and needed a word.”

The expression on John’s face was unfathomable to Rory who had expected a simple question to confirm or deny the truth about him and Liam.

“There’s something you should know, Rory … I swore I’d never tell a soul but I have to get it off my chest.”

“What?”

“It has to do with Richard and the day he died.”

“What are you talking about, John … that’s all in the past … and we all know what happened.”

“I should have done something-”

“You did; you stopped serving him …”

“He told me something ...”

“What did he tell you?”

“Now is not the time-”

“Hang on, John; you can’t say that and then leave me dangling!”

“Later; come up in the morning.”

“For fuck’s sake, John!”

“Tomorrow-”

Liam arrived with the drinks, “John; Barbara needs you to change a barrel.”

“Right oh!”

John scuttled away, leaving Rory on the edge of his seat, half in a mind to pursue him. Liam’s question about what John had wanted stopped Rory in his tracks. The bizarre admission left them both scratching their heads.

“See him tomorrow like he says and get to the bottom of it.”

“He revels in this shit.”

“Forget it then … cheers!”

“Cheers!”

Chapter Thirteen

“Good morning … sleep well?”

Liam just grinned, knowing the question was becoming the habitual precursor to his wake-up call.

“… mmmmm …”

“Good! Roll over …”

Doing as he was told earned him a kiss behind the ear which lengthened down his back. Rory then clambered on board to lay full length on top of Liam with his cheek pressed against the top of Liam’s back, one hand fiddling with his short curls and the other jammed under Liam’s chest.

“You’re putting on weight …”

“Bitch …”

“It’s a good thing … you’re filling out a bit; all that swimming, working for Robert and working out with me is paying off.”

“I’m not entering the competition; I don’t want to blow you off the stage.”

Liam chuckled and his frame shuddered, in the process allowing Rory greater access to Liam’s nipple. Liam felt Rory’s fat, hot pug swell a little and press against the rift, igniting a fuse; a short fuse which led him to open up his legs and allow Rory to probe.

Without moving his body, Rory stretched out his hand to grab the lube from the bedside table, flicking the lid expertly. Rather than dispense the cool gel onto his fingers, he turned slightly, opening up the space between his groin and Liam’s arse and squeezed out a good dollop. Tossing the tube aside, he used the same hand to scoop up the gel and coat himself, saving a little to just open up Liam’s bud, enough to take the head.

Guiding himself in, he made contact and waited for Liam to relax before easing in just the head, at the same time, forcing his hand under Liam’s thigh to squeeze his pears. Liam spat out the breath that he had been holding and Rory found his mouth with his other hand, sliding four fingers in for Liam to suck on.

Pushing elicited a groan, stifled by the fingers which Liam was still sucking. Invading this beautiful man’s orifices was a turn on in itself; the willing and hungry mouths were hot and tight with insatiable appetites and lips which begged to be parted. Rory couldn’t quite get used to the sensation of this muscular and responsive mattress beneath him which writhed and undulated alternately like a waterbed full of eels on heat.

His eel made progress in invading the warm, doughy tunnel which rippled with contractions, swallowing him whole until his dumplings came to rest against Liam’s perineum. Liam was wet and sticky, literally oozing sex.

“You’re so fucking hot!”

Now counter-thrusting, Liam couldn’t reply except in moans and strangled arghs.

“Oh, yeah, baby … you do the work!”

Rory slipped his hand out of Liam’s mouth, sliding it in and under Liam’s groin to join his other hand which was mauling Liam’s sizzling meat.

“Fucking hell, R-o-r-y …”

Rory recommenced his own thrusting, timing it to catch Liam’s upward jerk, ramming harder and deeper, counting the thwacks to his climax.

“I-m c-u-mmm-ing … F-U-C-K!”

The battering slowed to a shuddering crescendo; Rory delivered in four or five hot globs. He tightened up and clenched for the final volley, humping until he felt faint, suddenly conscious of the sweat running down his back.

“Turn over!” Rory demanded as he slipped out.

Liam complied, instantly finding the fingers of one of Rory’s hands invade the bruised rose bowl whilst the other gripped his shaft. He relinquished himself to the milking, flapping his hands as he always did. Rory slipped his fingers in further than he’d dared to before, prodding the swollen tissue, finding the inner rim which he teased remorselessly until Liam fired his pistol and splattered Rory’s chest and neck with his pearly shot.

“F-U-C-K!”

Rory dived on the throttled glans and sucked out the dregs, digging deeper with his fingers to bring about a final buck of the Bronco.

“Please; God!” Liam offered, hissing like a punctured tyre.

“So that’s foreplay … cool!”

“Rory … man … no more!”

Rory threw himself down beside Liam; gently laying his hand on Liam’s slowly deflating soufflé.

After a few moments of recovery, they turned into each other and sealed the deal but not before Liam had licked the jizz from Rory’s neck and chin.

“I so fucking love you …” Liam whispered.

“I love you too,” replied Rory, tenderly kissing Liam’s super soft cheek.

“You gonna go see John?”

“Guess … he loves to think he knows something you don’t … he did seem upset though.”

“Once we’ve had breakfast; he’ll probably be in cleaning … I’ll press on and when you get back we’ll take the dogs for a run.”

“Okay, sweetheart … I need a shower, c’mon.”

Trevor was already out in the yard by the time they arrived for breakfast; Tricia appeared to have left early and conspicuous by her absence, Rory was reminded of the day when he’d seen her in Newport; first when she’d crossed the square whilst he’d taken his coffee and then later, when he’d seen her on the terrace of the art centre. She’d never said anything and Rory had not seen fit to ask her why she’d ignored him.

The men had breakfast and Rory took Trevor a cup of coffee out.

“Hey!

“Morning … just got time for that. What you up to today?”

“I’m going to see John about something he wants to discuss … fuck knows what … then I’m helping Liam until Robert arrives. Pizzas tonight?”

“Great! Gotta get going; see you later.”

“Have a good day … if you want to talk-”

“Nothing to say … he actually laughed when I said I wanted him to come back.”

“Maybe it was just nerves.”

“Maybe but I didn’t get that impression.”

“Leave it a day and call him.”

“Gotta go; see you later!”

“Bye, Trevor …”

Rory and Liam had already gone to bed by the time Trevor and Tricia had returned from the mainland the previous evening. Rory had not, therefore, been able to ask Trevor the question about Will’s reaction. Just as Tricia had suggested; it was probably going to get worse before it got better. Musing on Trevor’s heartache just made him all the more grateful for the gift of Liam’s love.

After breakfast, whilst Liam was sorting out the materials for the day’s tasks, Rory dressed and headed off to the pub to catch John who would by now be cleaning and re-stocking ahead of the lunchtime rush. He took Jake with him, leaving Bruno to play tug-of-war with Liam.

The brief hike to the pub settled his mind. When John had handed him the photograph he’d known there’d been more to it than the return of a lost memento.

“Fuse is lit, John … hope you know what you’re doing!”

He skirted around the back of the pub and peered in at the French doors, catching sight of John who was behind the bar, re-filling the optics.

“JOHN!” Rory hollered, rapping smartly on the glass.

John looked up and hopped from behind the bar to open the door.

“Hello, Rory … coffee?”

“Uhm … yeah … and then you can tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“Can’t bring the dog in-”

“I’ll sit out here …”

John bustled back inside and Rory plonked himself down at the nearest picnic table, the only one in the sun at that time of the day. Jake slumped to the ground and rolled onto his side, letting out a huge sigh before closing his eyes. A few minutes later, John stepped out onto the terrace with a tray.

“Here you go, Rory,” he said, putting a cup of coffee down on the table.

“Thanks … so?”

To Rory’s mind, John looked unsure of himself, positively agitated and a little ashen.

“John!” Rory said impatiently.

“Okay … when Richard came in that day he was already upset.”

“How could you tell? He was always fucking upset!”

“No … not the usual clutch of woes … this was different …”

“I’m listening …”

“He said something which didn’t make any sense; at least not to me but he kept repeating it over and over although he seemed to be talking to himself rather than me.”

“What was he saying?”

“He said … ‘he was fucking her, he was fucking her’ … he was getting more and more wound up and then he calmed right down; you know how he could flip that switch …”

“Yeah … so who was fucking who … Tricia?”

“I think he’d seen something or heard something.”

“So you think he got tanked up and went back to confront her?”

“That’s what I think.”

“Why didn’t you say so at the inquest?”

“Because it didn’t mean anything … not really.”

“He didn’t say anything else; a name perhaps … or where he’d seen them?”

“No … he started drinking and when I told him ‘no more’ he stumbled out … and you know the rest.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“I don’t know … I found the photograph and it reminded me.”

“ … ‘he was fucking her’ … you seriously believe that Tricia was having an affair …?”

“He saw something … and because of whatever it was he’d seen, he came here, got tanked up and went back to confront them … and it ended in him assaulting Tricia …”

“I don’t believe it … they were devoted to each other!”

“Why did he assault Tricia?”

“He was drunk … he wasn’t like Dad who didn’t need a reason …”

“Richard hadn’t been in this pub for six weeks until that day.”

“No one knows what set him off … and we’ll never know.”

Rory got up to leave, yanking on Jake’s lead to wake him up.

“I know what I heard, Rory,” John said stubbornly, “And I’m damned sure Tricia knows what set him off!”

“And you think I’m gonna fucking ask her?”

“If she was having an affair and Richard found out then it makes it easier to understand; makes sense in some ways … and therefore easier to forgive him.”

“John … I already had … c’mon Jake!”

Rory left hurriedly, stepping it out along the lane until Jake complained. He stopped in his tracks just as the dog had.

“F-U-C-K!”

At that moment, Tricia passed him, heading in the direction of the farm. She tooted the horn but carried on without stopping.

“I don’t fucking believe it …”

Trudging back did little to quell the sickening feeling in his stomach. John had lit a touch paper and it was setting off the gut flipping heaves now. Rory had no choice but to contemplate that it was possible that Tricia hadn’t been completely honest about why Richard had assaulted her. Her account of the attack which she’d given at the inquest - and many times since - had simply been ‘he came at me, fists flying’, and her word had been accepted.

“He assaulted her because she was having an affair … and killed himself over the shame of having hit her; perhaps he even believed he’d lost her … people don’t kill themselves because their wives are fucking the milkman … he hit her and killed himself because he knew he’d never stop … Tricia loved Richard and he loved her …”

By the time Rory got back to the farm, Liam was already hard at work in the van. Tricia stood outside of the van, pointing things out and nodding her head in approval through the open service window. Rory waved and dropped off Jake before running upstairs where he was violently sick. Sitting on the bed to recover, he picked up the photograph from the bedside table.

There they all were; him, Richard, Tricia and Trevor; the four musketeers. Peering at the young, beautiful couple did little except to reinforce the fact that Richard had been head-over-heels in love with Tricia; best friends and lovers, husband and wife.

“What-the-fuck?”

Rory dropped the photograph onto the bed and jumped to his feet to go in hunt of a shirt which was in the laundry basket. He found it and rummaged in the pocket, finding the earring which he’d stumbled across in the grass by The Longman. He stared at it more closely, stunned into disbelief.

“It’s the same!”

Rory was jerked out of his shocked silence when he suddenly heard Tricia’s voice, the one voice he didn’t really didn’t want to hear right now, calling up the stairs to him.

“Rory! Robert’s here …”

“O … okay!”

He went to the bathroom to clean his teeth and gargle, dry heaving once or twice when he caught a whiff of the bile lingering on the back of his hand where he’d wiped his mouth earlier. He washed his hands and face and ran his damp fingers through his hair before taking a deep breath and venturing down to the kitchen, acutely aware of the colour draining from his cheeks.

“Hey!” he called out to both Tricia and Robert who were at the kitchen table.

“What’s wrong, Rory; you look pale,” ventured Tricia.

“Feeling a bit off … probably something I ate.”

“I’ve brought the last of the timbers over, Rory,” Robert told him, “Can you get them in the steamer and clamp them when they’re done? I’ll come over tomorrow to collect them.”

“Sure …”

“If you’re up to it …”

“Yes, of course …”

Robert cocked an eyebrow, “You sure you’re okay? You don’t look it … Are you ill …?”

“No; I’m fine … really. I … I just … I need to get some air.”

He left Robert and Tricia at the table and ambled outside to the van and to Liam.

“Hey, sweetheart!” Liam smiled when he saw him, “So, what did John want?”

“Oh … the usual John bollocks … how you doin’?”

“Great …” Liam’s eyes narrowed and he sounded concerned, “You look a bit off colour; you alright?”

“Feel a bit sick actually. I’m just going to walk for a bit … I’ve got some stuff to do for Robert but I’ll be free to help you later.”

“Okay … although I think I’d prefer it if you were to have a lie down.”

“I might do just that … love you.”

“Love you too, babe.”

Rory wandered out of the gate and down onto the beach, feeling empty in every department. But as much as he wanted to forget it and force John’s head into a barrel of sick, fragments of images and conversations insisted on whizzing through his mind as he analysed everything he’d ever seen and heard, trying to find the means to quash the idea until he felt like he’d been on the carousel at the end of the pier; when there’d been a carousel at the end of the pier.

“How the fuck do I ask her that?”

“Ask who, what?”

“Tricia!”

“I came down to make sure you were okay. Ask who, what? What did John want?”

“Nothing …”

“You look like a ghost … what the fuck did he want?”

“Nothing … it was probably the chicken.”

“I might accept that if it wasn’t for the fact that Liam is fine … Rory, what did John say?”

Don’t make me say it! “It was about Richard … it was nothing.”

“If it was about Richard then it had to be something-”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because John’s always had a theory … not that he’s ever had the balls to ask me himself.”

“How do you know he’s always had a theory?”

“He talks to Robert … and Robert talks to me.”

“Then why ask me?”

“I want to know what he said.”

Rory looked her straight in the eye and saw defiance and fear in both.

“He told me that he thought Richard had found out that you were having an affair … and that’s why Richard assaulted you; that it wasn’t an unprovoked attack.”

“Did he say why he thought that Richard had found out?”

“He told me that on the day Richard came here and assaulted you, he was at the bar … and he said something which John assumed meant that Richard had seen you with someone.”

“What did he say?”

“He said that Richard kept saying… ‘he was fucking her’ … he kept repeating it to himself.”

“And John assumes that the ‘her’ was me?”

“Yeah …”

“Why is he telling you this now?”

“I don’t know … he said it was because he found an old photograph which he’d taken at your wedding … he gave it to me the other day; said it had reminded him and if what Richard had said was true then Richard’s actions were understandable and … forgivable.”

“It’s exactly what he’s told Robert in the past.”

“So he’s just stirring …”

“Yeah … but it’s strange that he’s only told you all of this now.”

“I’ve just got back … maybe it was the photograph … or perhaps he was worried that Robert might say something to me; seeing as I’m working for him now.”

“So; what now?”

“You tell me. We’ve already had this conversation; either you’ve lied to me, Tricia, or John is stirring.”

The pause was deafening and convinced that Tricia hadn’t heard him, Rory was on the verge of repeating himself when the woman spoke.

“It would have been better if you hadn’t come back …”

Rory’s eyes narrowed, “Meaning?”

“I think you know what it means …”

Before Rory could frame a coherent reply, Tricia had turned and walked away.

Chapter Fourteen

By the time Rory had returned to the yard, Tricia had left and Liam didn’t know where she’d gone.

“Just took off.”

Rory explained everything, as best as he could, leaving the obvious to Liam to spell out, “If that’s what she thinks, then you’d best move into mine.”

“I guess … what the fuck do I do now?”

“I’ve got enough money to keep us.”

“No, sweetheart, I meant, what about Trevor and Robert’s work … the van?”

“Tell him what she said; move out and let it cool off.”

“What she said can only mean one thing; right?”

“As far as I can tell … Why didn’t she just deny it?”

“Fuck knows … perhaps keeping it a secret was just getting too hard in the end … I came back and it was too much.”

“Well … now you know the truth.”

“It does explain it … I don’t say it justifies what he did … but it’s easier to understand; well, on the one hand; it was actually just as easy to accept that he ‘went off on one’; like Dad used to do.”

“She didn’t tell you who?”

“Does it matter? Could have been anyone.”

“I don’t think so … it’s someone we know.”

“We know everyone, Liam.”

“It’s someone we know … and care about.”

“There ain’t too many of them … FUCK!”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart … what can I do?”

“I don’t know … depends on Trevor … and Tricia as well.”

“Phone him?”

Just at that moment, Trevor arrived back and Rory knew from the look on his face as he got out of the jeep that he already knew.

“Rory, move in with me … we’ll be fine.”

“Thanks, hon’ … I know we will.”

Rory stepped over to the jeep where Trevor was waiting.

“Tricia won’t be back for a few days …”

“Meaning?”

“It would be best if you found somewhere else to stay.”

“Did you know?” Rory demanded before shaking his head, “Of course you fucking knew! Why did you invite me over? It just doesn’t make any sense …”

“Robert’ll put you up-”

“I’ll-move-in-with-Liam.” Rory stated, sensing that his tone was deteriorating, “What about the van?”

“Not sure.”

“FINE! Who was it?”

“You don’t expect me to answer that question do you?”

“Why not? Richard killed himself because of it.”

“He was unstable …”

“Apparently he hadn’t had a drink for six weeks before that day. If you or Tricia won’t tell me then I’ll ask Robert because I’m pretty sure he will.”

“Leave it, Rory … it won’t do any good-”

“GOOD! Everyone thought he was a fucking MONSTER … even me at the time … and all along it was because she couldn’t keep her fucking KNICKERS on!”

THUMP!

OoO

“Ooh, sweetheart … that’s a right ol’ shiner you’ve got coming.”

“Oh God … OUCH!”

“Lie still for a minute.”

“Where is he?”

“Gone … twenty minutes ago.”

“Shit! I’ve been out for twenty minutes?”

“Nearly half an hour.”

“Fuck!”

“I was just about to call the ambulance … you should probably go to the hospital.”

“No, I’ll be fine … what a fucking mess!”

“He said he’d be back in the morning.”

“Well, we can’t leave tonight anyway because of the dogs.”

“He’s still going to pay me for the week.”

“Good! What about next week?”

“Nothing changes; I’ve still got a job.”

“Christ, Liam; I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Rory … he should have told you himself; not let John do it for him.”

“Be that as it may … everyone is going to fucking find out now.”

“Move in and let the dust settle.”

“Best start packing then!”

“You stay there … I’ll walk the dogs and then I’ll pack. I’ll phone Joel and ask him to pick us up in the morning.”

“If you would … I really don’t want to have to ask Robert or John.”

“No … best we just get out of here and let things calm down.”

“Okay … can I have a cup of tea, please?”

“Sure, babe … why did he thump you anyway?”

“I implied that Tricia was a slapper.”

“Ah … yeah, best we leave.”

Rory was parked on the settle in the kitchen with a bag of ice covering his eye and the side of his face which felt like … well, felt like his world had collapsed on it. He gratefully accepted the tea and a delicately placed kiss on his lips. Liam took the dogs out, leaving him to recover.

“I probably deserved this for saying that … what a stupid twat for not telling me! She was having an affair and Richard found out; saw them doing it … oh, wait … n-n-n-n-n-no … Richard had come from the farm; whatever he saw took place at the farm … she risked doing it at home? … Who would he not suspect? Whose car in the yard would not raise suspicion? He went back to the farm to confront her; he assaulted her, got arrested, spent the night in the cell, got bailed to appear, went back to the farm, grabbed the gun, hiked to the stone and shot himself … he was sober by then … who kills themselves because they hit their wife; their wife who was having an affair?”

Rory’s quiet musings were crudely interrupted when Liam burst in with Jake in his arms.

“He’s dead …”

Chapter Fifteen

“What did he say?”

“He’s on his way back.”

“Poor ol’ Jake …”

“It was strange … he was running all over the place one minute and just collapsed the next.”

Despite the shock and sadness, Rory was still thinking about Trevor and the incident … and about how things would pan out now.

Half an hour after Liam had made the call, Trevor returned to be met by Liam. He and Rory had wrapped Jake in an old blanket, putting him in his basket out in the barn. It was an hour before Liam re-entered the kitchen, looking hot and bothered.

“We buried him … Trevor’s still out there …”

Rory was in two minds as to whether to go outside, since barely two hours earlier, Trevor had landed him one.

“Fuck it …”

Rory got up and wandered out, leaving Liam in the kitchen with Bruno who was uncharacteristically clingy. Outside in the yard, which was lit by virtue of the barn door being wide open, he found Trevor cleaning the shovels.

“Trevor … I’m so sorry …”

“Thirteen he was … unlucky for some!”

“He had a good life …”

“Liam said Joel is coming over in the morning.”

“That’s the plan …”

“Fucking John and his big mouth!”

“I’m sorry for what I said … but I wish you or Tricia had told me.”

“It was … easier to let everyone believe what they thought had happened … I know how it made Richard look but … he was dead.”

Rory’s lips were pinned together by the statement but he was also wary of voicing his feelings.

“I’ll walk Bruno first thing; Joel is picking us up at nine.”

“Thanks … I’d best get back to Tricia; she’s understandably upset.”

“Tell her I’m sorry too.”

There wasn’t anything else left to say so Trevor left and Rory returned to the house.

“Let’s go to bed, Liam.”

OoO

They got up early to pack and walk Bruno. Whilst they had a final cup of coffee, waiting for Joel to arrive, Rory wrote a short note, intending to place it in an envelope with the earring he’d found.

“We’ve got the rest of the week off … what do you want to do?” asked Liam.

“Oh … not sure; just chill and get sorted … see what’s going on; maybe register at the agency …”

“We’re good for cash.”

“Thanks, sweetheart … but I have to do something …”

“Finish the book.”

“Yeah … my romantic masterpiece!”

“Don’t you believe in happy-ever-after?”

Rory put his mug down and looked lovingly into Liam’s eyes, knowing that he wanted to believe it.

“I’ll never hurt you; you know that.”

“I know you’d never hurt me … and I’ll never hurt you.”

“Perhaps I’ll write about us then!”

“Give me a better arse!”

“It’s already perfect; you’re already perfect.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too …”

A cough from the doorway announced Joel’s arrival.

“Hello, Joel,” they smirked, already anticipating the unpacking at the other end.

When Joel saw Rory’s eye he couldn’t help but ask what had happened.

“I walked into a door,” Rory replied, tongue-in-cheek.

Joel was just about to make a ‘wife-battering’ quip but bit his tongue just in time.

“Let’s get going then; gotta be back by ten.”

Rory locked the door and posted the keys through the letterbox, wondering if he’d ever step foot in the place again; wondering if Tricia hadn’t been right; that perhaps ignorance was bliss. The sight of Liam’s arse disappearing into the back of the van evened up the scales a little and taking a deep breath, he clambered into the back of the van, instantly seeking out Liam’s hand which he held all the way to the flat.

Unpacking of various kinds carried them through the rest of the day and then they went out for a drink in the evening to celebrate Rory having moved in, which despite the reason, was in danger of being overshadowed by the incident.

“Cheers!”

“Cheers!”

“Let’s go to Gun Wharf Quay tomorrow,” Rory suggested.

“Sure … this is going to sound like a strange question but … why didn’t Richard confront Tricia and whoever it was she was with before he went to the pub that day; why wait?”

“I don’t know … maybe he couldn’t believe it.”

“Don’t you think it a little strange that Richard would have assaulted her but not the bloke she was with?”

“I guess by the time he got back to the farm, the fella had left … Rick was tanked up and flew off the handle … Tricia probably denied it at first and he got angry because she was playing him for a sap.”

“And you think he killed himself because he couldn’t trust himself?”

“That’s what I reckon … I never got to speak to him after he left the court … well, not true; he wanted to talk and I told him to fuck off because I was so angry.”

“And he walked calmly back into the house, picked up the gun, hiked it to the stone and shot himself.”

“Meaning?”

“No one tried to stop him; Trevor, Tricia … it would have looked a bit odd wouldn’t it, to someone else; seeing him marching up the lane with a gun?”

“I guess no one saw him or if they did, they didn’t think it was that odd.”

“Who found him?”

“Trevor … when he saw that the gun cupboard was open and the gun was missing, he went out.”

“That must have been a fucking shock.”

“Yeah …”

Rory didn’t mind talking about it but wondered if there weren’t nicer things to talk about.

“… I’d like to see your artwork and I was serious about asking you to do the cover for the story.”

“Sure; love to!”

“Good …”

There was one question which no one had asked, not even Rory and he’d had plenty of time over the preceding eight years to think about everything. Therefore, Liam’s parting comment came as something of a thunderbolt.

“I wonder why Tricia never shacked up with the fella.”

“Kiss of death I suppose …”

“No one knew … so it wasn’t like anyone was going to judge her was it?”

“No …well … only Trevor knew.”

Chapter Sixteen

The time flew by in reality. Liam worked all day and half the night, preparing for the competition which was only a couple of weeks away now. Rory had picked up a bit of work with the Council, filling in the gaps with his writing and keeping house for the pair of them. Rory never asked after Trevor and Liam never ventured the information.

“Hey, sweetheart!”

“Hey, babe …”

“You look beat!”

Liam was working out even more and Joel was pushing him harder and harder to make the grade. The competition was beginning to consume every waking minute not spent erecting or disassembling scaffolding.

“I’ve got the day off tomorrow,” said Liam.

“So have I … shall we go out?”

“Yeah … could ride over to Sandown.”

They both had bikes now.

“Okay … take a shower, Liam, because dinner’s nearly ready.”

To a degree, they lived in a bubble, inured from the usual day-to-day by the work-out routine. As Liam had said, all those weeks ago, apart from Joel, he didn’t have that many pals who he spent much time with. Consequently, he and Rory spent all of their free time together, usually by themselves. It hadn’t put a strain on their relationship which Rory had feared it might; a reminder to him that Liam was actually a lot more mature than most people gave him credit for. Keeping a low profile and certainly doing nothing to risk bumping into Trevor or Tricia meant that they saw little of Robert and nothing of John.

As Rory put it; they lived on their own paradise island.

“I booked your appointment for the tan for the day before the competition; Sue can fit you in at four o’clock.”

“Thanks … you really don’t mind if Joel is there and not you?”

“Of course not, sweetheart … he’s been with you all the way. I’ll be in the audience and if Pete turns up then I don’t want him to see me … certainly not with you.”

“Trevor has sponsored me; got a new training kit with the logo and everything …”

Rory knew from the tone of Liam’s voice that this was information which he hadn’t been looking forward to sharing.

“Well done!”

“You don’t mind?”

“No, sweetheart, I don’t mind; why should I?”

“He asked after you today …”

“Did he? I should just go and see him. I was upset because he didn’t tell me, not because she had an affair … not really; you don’t know what happens behind closed doors … I just wish he’d told me.”

“Call him then …”

“What’s happened to the new van?”

“Trevor finished it off and Tracey’s manning it for the season.”

“Figures … I’ll call him after our day off. Now, drink your protein shake and get that coq-au-vin down your neck!”

“Gotta have my dinner first!”

“You can start by putting those new trunks on; the black cobra skin ones with the lace-up front.”

“Joel says I can’t wear them on the day; has to be standard issue black Lycra trunks.”

“Whatever … you’re gonna win; you’re gonna blow them all away!”

Liam just smiled, used to Rory’s pep talk by now. It was their foreplay to the foreplay to the main event which took place every night without fail, regardless of how hard they’d been working all day.

Lying in bed, whilst getting close and savouring the anticipation, Liam suggested, “Why don’t you go and see him tomorrow? You could pick up the kit at the same time …”

“I want to go to Sandown with you first. I’ll text him and suggest a drink in the evening … where’s he working at the moment?”

“He’s off tomorrow.”

“After we get back then; maybe we’ll hook up … gotta start somewhere. I’m not throwing away a friendship of nearly forty years because of one punch.”

“One lie …”

“Okay; one lie and one punch.”

Rory settled himself, laying his head on Liam’s chest, idly drawing circles on Liam’s abdomen, revelling in Liam’s presence, his warmth and strength.

“I love you … when you win-”

“If-”

“When you win, we should take a holiday.”

“Where?”

“Don’t mind … somewhere hot and exotic … Sheerness?”

“Idiot … Miami!”

“I knew it was a mistake getting you the box set of CSI Miami …”

“They’re not filming it anymore; he won’t be on the beach.”

“Pity!”

“I’m buying you a car first.”

“A convertible Mini!”

“So gay!”

“My book’s almost done … maybe I’ll earn enough to buy you a car.”

“Roy said he’d take the photograph for the cover whenever we want.”

“In those black cobra skin trunks …”

“If you want … turn over …”

Despite Liam’s initial reluctance to take control, he was pretty comfortable with it now. Rory found his slight hesitancy a real turn on; like Liam was re-enacting the first time over and over again. When Liam climbed on top of him, Liam always laid his hands over Rory’s; interlocking their fingers, taking the skin at the top of Rory’s back beneath his teeth like a lion mating with the top cat.

Pinned down, he had no choice but to relinquish himself to Liam’s feral desires, his animal yearnings, squirming to grab the last inch of the poker which a hole through his guts and so often made him cum, like it would tonight.

OoO

They rode along the cycle track to Sandown; a distance of eight miles which they took at a steady pace, avoiding the dog walkers and other cyclists. The season had started strongly and everywhere was busy.

Rory carried a rucksack with their towels and Liam carried their drinks and lunch. They found the beach and swam before taking a breather, grabbing a coffee at the café on the esplanade by the War Memorial.

“Did he reply yet?”

“No … still thinking about it I guess. Maybe when I get back, I’ll take Joel’s car and just pop over … what’s the worst he can say?”

“And I need the kit.”

“Fuck it! If he hasn’t replied by the time we get back, I’ll borrow the car and just go over there.”

“If you’re going to do that then I’ll work out for an hour and once you get back, we’ll grab dinner out and hook up with Roy.”

“Good plan! Now, I really think you should lie down and let me rub some sun block on your back.”

“Yes, Rory … remember it’s a public beach.”

“There’s a beautiful nudist beach in Florida; Haulover Beach Park … that’s where I want to go.”

“Not Whale Chine then?”

“Did you ever go down to the end?”

“Obviously … like everyone else.”

“I lost my virginity there … like everyone else.”

“To Trevor?”

“To Trevor … it was so innocent; we’d gone night fishing …”

Rory paused, allowing the flash of the memory to die away.

“William might be coming back for a retry,” Liam reported.

“Really? I didn’t think that would ever happen.”

“It hasn’t happened yet.”

They chatted and chilled for a couple of hours and then rode back to Newport, picking up the pace to cover the journey in less than an hour. Liam went straight to the gym. Rory accompanied him and borrowed Joel’s car. Once he was driving along the Bowcombe Road towards Gatcombe, he had a panic attack and almost turned around.

“Come on, Rory; this is pathetic!”

Approaching the farm from the Downs’ side rather than using the coast road gave him a perfect view of the yard. The ice cream vans, the truck, the jeep and Tricia’s car were all in the yard.

“Here goes …”

Pulling in did not bring Bruno out of the house but then Rory saw that the door was closed. When he got out of the car, he couldn’t hear Bruno barking and assumed that he was on the beach; which meant that Trevor would be too. He walked towards the gate, passing the barn, noticing that the door was open by a couple of feet.

From the top of the path which led down to the beach he could see that the beach was empty.

“Bollocks …”

His carefully rehearsed opening address which amounted to nothing more than ‘hello, Trevor!’ looked as if it was going to have to wait for another day.

Rory closed the gate and turned to walk back across the yard, wondering if it was worth sticking his head in the barn … but the risk of seeing Tricia before talking to Trevor made him think twice.

“Fuck it! She’s probably in bed.”

At the doorway, simultaneously pushing the door back on its runners a little and hollering out a casual ‘hello!’, Rory was unprepared for the sight that assaulted him, though at first it didn’t quite register. Trevor was lying on the wood clamping bed, face down. Only when Rory saw someone else’s legs move did he realise that Trevor was fucking someone. The scrape of the door and his holler had grabbed the couple’s attention. Trevor looked round, meeting Rory’s eyes just at the point at which Rory realised what he was seeing. The person beneath Trevor raised their head and looked over his shoulder.

“Oh shit! Oh God … SHIT!”

Rory turned tail, his mind suddenly in a spin and his legs feeling weak and rubbery.

He heard Trevor call out behind him. “RORY!”

“No … no … must leave …”

Mumbling and stumbling, he reached the car just as Trevor emerged from the barn, struggling to slip his feet into his trainers.

“RORY!”

He couldn’t turn his head to watch Trevor approach. He dived for the car door handle only to find it was locked.

“Shit!”

Realising he’d locked the keys in the car, he walked smartly out of the drive and crossed the road, breaking into a jog as he entered the lane, intent on pushing the image of the faces out of his head. Trevor’s cries receded as, being much fitter these days, he forced the pace, barely puffing by the time he reached the sanctuary of the pub. Opposite the pub was the entrance to the path leading to The Longman; he took it, hoping that Trevor hadn’t seen him and would assume he’d gone to the pub. Rory slowed down as the ground became steeper and whips of new hazel blocked his path.

He didn’t allow himself to think about anything except the physical process of lifting each leg and planting his feet, one in front of the other, over and over until he came to the last rise before the stone. Breaking out onto the open space, he didn’t stop until he was beside the stone, his back to the sea and his face turned towards the ridge, hiding him from view. Only the warm granite beneath his fingers stopped him from collapsing. The stone took his weight as he leaned back more heavily, tilting his head until the top of his skull was resting on the rough surface.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d remained motionless; ten minutes perhaps?

He felt compelled to recall the image but knew he’d throw up if he did. The stasis was broken by a shout from within the scrub bordering the open grassy space on the seaward side.

“RORY!”

Rory’s eyes flicked open, nausea spreading out from his gut, flushing his skin and draining him of colour, to leave him feeling cold and clammy.

“RORY!”

The voice was closer.

“Rory … please!”

He knew he couldn’t escape undetected and running off in the direction of Strawberry Lane seemed impossible whilst his stomach was so knotted it caused him pain.

“Rory …”

The voice was over his shoulder; coming from the other side of the stone. He stepped away and turned to face Trevor who was now only six feet away.

“Rory, listen …”

Unable to speak because his throat was clenched tight and unable to move because his legs refused to carry him away, Rory had no choice but to listen.

Chapter Seventeen

“Rory … I … don’t expect you to understand … I …”

John’s words came back to Rory forcefully; the words Richard had kept repeating to himself over and over in the pub, ‘he was fucking her’.

A sob broke through his lips as he finally pieced it together.

“Richard saw you.”

His breath was barely enough to raise his voice above a whisper; a gargled whisper, choked by the guilt of turning his back on his brother who’d witnessed the same thing.

“Yes … although we didn’t know that at the time. Tricia realised it only when he came back drunk; screaming.”

“H-h-h-he … a-a-atttacked her an’ no-ot you,” Rory stuttered, feeling somewhat calmer for getting some words out which in themselves enabled him to breathe.

“I wasn’t there when he got back … I was walking the dog. I heard the screaming and raced back but I was too late.”

“Why didn’t he tell the police?” Rory asked, firing the words out before he needed to take another deep breath.

“I think he was too ashamed …”

The word ignited Rory’s anger.

“Lucky for you!”

Trevor picked up on the tone.

“He-attacked-Tricia …”

“T-r-i-c-i-a-”

“What? She asked for it?”

“He deserved better!”

“She’d put up with it for four years … she deserved better!”

“You?”

“I’ve always taken care of her … I trusted him but all too often he spoke with his fists.”

“Why didn’t she leave him then?”

“She wouldn’t give up on him … even at the end; she wouldn’t have pressed charges but I made her; to protect herself; to finally make him get help.”

“And he came back here … took your gun and shot himself … because of what HE SAW!”

Rory knew that he was losing it again but anger was pricking his spine, making him feel braver and stronger than maybe was wise.

“Rory-”

“NO! YOU KILLED HIM; YOU AND TRICIA! YOUR INCEST … do you hear me? INCEST … if anyone needed fucking help, it was YOU … and your fucking SISTER!”

“Ror-”

“You FUCKING CUNT!”

Propelled by every shred of guilt he’d ever felt, every sympathetic smile he’d had to endure, every time he’d caught the eye of someone who’d been whispering behind their hand and his back, every time he’d heard his Dad’s fist make contact, every time he’d cleaned up the puke and the blood; propelled by a brother’s love, he launched himself at Trevor like a madman, raising his hands to grab his best friend around the throat.

The rage enveloped him like a fog, rendering him insensible to the pain of the blows that rained down on him; lip split, eye exploding, thumbs digging into his throat, knee detonating in his groin. The gun shot sounded far off; way over the ridge. The force of Trevor falling against him was unexpected and when he landed on him it forced the breath out of his lungs.

When he managed to breathe in, the smell of blood; one he knew only too well, over-powered him.

Chapter Eighteen

“Hey, sweetheart …”

“Liam!”

“I’ll get the nurse …”

Rory looked around and unhelpfully reconnected with the pain in his head which sent him back into a temporary storm of unprocessable sensations.

“Mr Collins … Mr Collins, I’m Doctor Thorp; you’re a lucky man.”

Rory opened his eyes.

“A very lucky man … we managed to get the shot out of your head without having to take away too much else.”

Rory smiled.

“You’ve been asleep for a while … but you’re going to be okay.”

“How long have I been … asleep?”

“Three weeks-”

“Three … weeks! Whoa!”

“Just relax … there’s plenty of time to explain everything … just rest.”

The doctor left and Liam came back, looking happy and concerned at the same time.

“Three weeks!”

“Yeah … touch and go for a while.”

“What the fuck happened?”

“You were shot … well, not exactly. Trevor was shot; you caught some of it.”

“Trevor got shot?”

“Tricia shot Trevor … to stop him from killing you.”

“Tricia?”

“Yeah … Tricia.”

“And Trevor?”

“Uhm … he … died.”

Epilogue

“C’mon … time to go home.”

“I just want to say goodbye to that nurse-”

“Tart!”

“Go and call Joel!”

They left a few minutes later.

“So …”

“So?” Liam queried.

“What we doing then?”

“Oh … packing.”

“Packing?”

“For that trip to Sheerness you want to make.”

“I was deranged; I’m sure I said Bali!”

“It’s Miami …”

“Yeah; course it is!”

They left the hospital and Rory automatically strained his neck to look for Joel.

“Where is he then?”

“Who?”

“Joel.”

“Don’t need him …”

Liam dropped a set of car keys into Rory’s palm and pointed at the brand new Mini parked in the nearest bay.

“You didn’t say what colour, so I got red.”

“What-the-fuck?”

“I said I’d buy you one.”

“Yeah; if you … if … YOU WON!”

Table of Contents

Author’s Note

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue