Barging In (8 page)

Dan pouted a little, but his eyes still twinkled. “But how will I know what to appreciate if you aren’t there to guide me?”

Robin kept his face as stony as possible, but could feel his lips trying to twitch into a smile. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out by yourself. You don’t need me to hold your hand.”

“You could hold something else, if you’d rather.” Dan reached out to run his fingers lightly over Robin’s hand where it gripped the edge of his workbench. When Robin made no response to the flirting, Dan sighed theatrically. “Okay, I’ll show myself around, then, shall I?”

Once Dan was out of sight, Robin exhaled and leant back against the wall. He’d have to ask Dan to leave after he’d seen the rest. Having the guy here was stirring up too many conflicting emotions.

Dan’s voice rang out from the back of the boat—a welcome distraction. “So what made you decide to take up the boating life? It wasn’t just to show off your woodworking skills, was it?”

He should have a pat answer to that question by now, but lies never tripped easily off Robin’s tongue. They tended to stick in his throat, and he was always convinced that people could see his falsehoods written on his face. At least with Dan out of sight it was easier to respond with a half-truth.

“My grandmother gave me some of my inheritance early, to avoid the taxes.” That bit was true, at least. “It wasn’t enough to buy a house, but I’d always liked the idea of living on the water and travelling around.” That might have been a childhood dream, fostered by obsessively watching pirate films, but it had hardly been the motivating force for buying
Serendipity
.

“You’re like me,” Dan said, appearing in front of Robin. “I never want to get stuck in one place for too long. Variety is the spice of life, wouldn’t you say?” His smile pinched up at the edges, turning from friendly to lascivious in an instant. “I guess you would, seeing as how you like it on both sides of the fence. Tell me, Robin, are you versatile? ’Cause I am.”

“I fail to see how that’s any of your business.”

Dan threw up his hands, feigning innocence. “Okay, okay! I can see it’s a touchy subject for you. It’s fine. Like I said, whatever way works for me, but I don’t expect the rest of the world to be as easygoing.” Maybe Dan was picking up on Robin’s vibes now, because a sheepish expression passed over his face, and he gave a strange laugh that jangled on Robin’s nerves. “Look, it’s cool. I’d better get going now, I reckon. Will I see you at Mel’s party tomorrow? Sounds like it’ll be a blast.”

Oh for fuck’s sake! Was he ever going to get rid of this man? Robin muttered a noncommittal reply which Dan accepted with a knowing smile before clasping Robin’s hand briefly and racing off the boat with a cheery, “See you tomorrow, then!”

Robin glared at his fingers. They burned from Dan’s touch, craving more contact. They wanted to explore every inch of Dan’s body. They wanted to tangle in his hair.

It just wasn’t fair.

Sluts shouldn’t be so fucking enticing.

“Bleedin’ hell, she’s here.” Smiler turned to Robin with a grimace, the net curtain falling back into place. “Sorry, mate, you’d better get going. Trust me, you don’t want to meet the cow.”

“Nearly done and I’ll be out of the way.” He’d have been done about half an hour ago if Smiler hadn’t been so keyed up about his daughters. The man couldn’t stop pacing about the caravan and regaling Robin with anecdotes. Katie and Sarah sounded like two little wildcats—always racing around and driving their mother crazy.

Robin concentrated on driving the last two screws home. Yesterday’s huge problem with the plate rack had turned out to be easily solved by gluing in an extra strip of wood and turning it into a design feature. Funny how things could be so simple when you’d woken up happy. His day had got off to an almost perfect start with Morris draped over his legs, and he spent at least half an hour petting the cat silly before the desperate urge to piss finally forced him out of bed.

Maybe something was in the air today. Smiler was as close to cheerful as Robin had ever seen him, and even the prospect of having to greet the ex didn’t seem to have made too much of a dent in his mood. The man was actually living up to his name, beaming as he left the caravan. Robin shoved his screwdriver, tape and pencil back in his tool belt and followed him out into the car park.

There was a sour-faced woman in a designer suit standing next to a shiny Mercedes. Two pale blonde girls hid behind her, prim and proper in their matching pink coats, shiny shoes and white tights. Robin gawped. He hadn’t realised they were identical twins. It was hard to see anything of Smiler in them—they definitely favoured their mother. Either Smiler had really let himself go since his divorce, or the ex-wife had moved up in the world. Must be similar to what people thought when they saw Robin with his own family.

He would have just slunk away over the swing bridge if it weren’t for the fact that Smiler hadn’t paid him yet and he needed the cash. He walked over, trying to ignore the way the woman glared at him.

“All done now,” he said.

“Cheers, mate. Great job.” Smiler reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of notes. Robin watched the woman’s eyebrows rise. Smiler peeled off four twenties and handed them to him. “And here’s another for your trouble.” There was a sly smile on his face as he handed Robin another twenty.

One hundred pounds! That was almost double what they’d originally agreed. Robin grinned and clapped Smiler on the back.

“Thanks. Anything else you want doing, just ask.”

He grabbed his bike and made a quick exit. God knew what those two girls would make of the assault course. He hoped Smiler wouldn’t be too disappointed.

A pleasant afternoon cycling out to the village of Avoncliffe and spending some of his windfall on a few pints in the King’s Arms next to a roaring fire had followed. Under those circumstances, with the pleasant buzz of the alcohol in his veins and the warmth of the fire against his skin, the Dan situation didn’t seem like such a big deal after all. It wasn’t like Dan would be around for long, and he wasn’t a part of this lifestyle. Their paths would never cross again, so would it really be so dangerous? It wasn’t like they’d be emotionally involved. Dan wouldn’t do a Jamie on him. Wouldn’t be able to tear his heart out and trample on it. Robin would never let him get that close.

Robin took another deep gulp of beer and tried to banish Jamie from his mind. Dan wasn’t all that much like him anyway. The surface charm was similar, but on Jamie it had barely been able to gloss over his neuroses and self-loathing. Dan was different; he seemed optimistic to the point of lunacy, with a sense of self-worth bordering on the smug—both qualities Robin was drawn to against his will. Dan wouldn’t be the type to risk destroying his health and that of those around him. Still, Robin would have to be careful.

He bought two packets of condoms from the machine in the gents: one extra-strength and one strawberry flavoured. It never hurt to be prepared.

He was whistling when he sauntered back into the bar, and when he returned to
Serendipity
he made a snap decision to cruise half a mile or so until he reached a deserted stretch in the reed beds. It wasn’t as far as he was supposed to have moved, but he wanted somewhere with no neighbours peering through their portholes. Morris curled up on the roof above the engine, and Robin petted him as they chugged along, possibilities for later drifting through his mind like smoke in the still air.

Chapter Eight

Dan could see the flickering glow of the fire below through the branches. He took a moment to lean on the fence he had chained his bike to. The night revealed a different terrain, the many shades of green, red and gold reduced to a stark contrast of light and dark, the river a silvery ribbon reflecting the full moon back at him. Shame he hadn’t brought the Nikon, but he didn’t want to be weighed down with the responsibility of taking photos. He had other ideas about how to spend his evening.

The light of the bonfire was the only warm thing in the whole vista. It drew Dan’s gaze. There would be warm bodies down there. People laughing, drinking, flirting and making merry. Maybe some of the boaters he’d photographed earlier in the day—Chris and Zoe with their brood of mischievous children, all happily crammed into one of the large Dutch barges; Tigger with his soot-blackened, dilapidated old barge, the dim light inside picking out the map of wrinkles on his bearded face; pink-haired Flora with her crystals and half-baked theories about the spirits of trees. Yes, there were the artisans and the terminally unemployable that he’d expected to find living in this way, but some of the boaters were a real surprise. Chris was a physics lecturer up at the University, and Zoe was an educational psychologist—although they both worked part-time in order to share child-care duties. Clearly the boating community was more varied than he’d first expected.

As he vaulted over the stile and made his way down the barely visible track, Dan’s stomach started to flutter in that pleasant way it always did when he was on the brink of making a conquest. The possibility that he wouldn’t be going back with Robin later was unthinkable. It was obvious that Robin fancied him, even if he was doing his best to deny it. And now that he’d been the means of returning the beloved Morris to him… Well, he figured that Robin would be feeling much better disposed towards him. A bit of alcohol, some suggestive banter, and the man would be putty in his hands. Maybe not putty, exactly—he was after something harder than that—but certainly malleable, pliant and accommodating. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to bury himself in that sweet arse and fuck Robin so hard he forgot his own name…but he could be patient. He could wait and bide his time if he had to.

Several voices called out to him from the circle of firelight.

“Dan, sweetie, it’s lovely to see you! Come and meet Aranya—you just have to get some shots of his boat—it’s unbelievable!” As Mel tugged on Dan’s hand and pulled him towards the lanky, dreadlocked guy with the guarded expression, Dan searched the groups of chattering boaters for the one face he really wanted to see. He came up with a disappointing blank.

“What is it you’re taking your pictures for?” Aranya asked, his narrow eyes fixing Dan with a glare that made him want to squirm. Fortunately Mel pressed a bottle of beer into his hand at that moment, so he had a little longer to frame his reply.

“It’s a piece for the
Observer
magazine,” he said, hoping the left-wing liberal credentials would help him win the guy over. “I’m meant to be covering a narrowboat holiday for the travel section, but my agent asked me to get character shots as well. The idea is to have an article about British Waterways versus the boaters. Show the human side of the situation. People in their own homes. That sort of thing.” He gave Aranya his least flirtatious grin, but the man’s face showed little responding emotion. Shame, really—with those long blond dreadlocks and Nordic features, he could be quite a looker if he lightened up.

“It might be alternative now, but when the oil runs dry, we’ll all be living like this. Current Western lifestyles are totally unsustainable—we are living in Babylon, man, and the end times are coming. Did you know it would take three earths to supply everyone with the resources to maintain the status quo?”

Oh Christ, just what he needed. A white Rastafarian tree-hugger with an evangelical bent. Dan let the eco-brainwashing attempts wash over him as he tried to make the right noises in response. Asking Aranya about energy-saving measures on his own boat proved to be a good move, earning Dan more opportunities to scan the group for Robin. He idly watched one of Chris and Zoe’s brood running around with a stick, poking it into the fire and chasing his younger sister while brandishing the smouldering wood. A couple of identical blonde girls with wild hair joined in the game. No one seemed to care that they were quite literally playing with fire, but no one seemed to get hurt, either. The adults were all relaxed and happy. A few of them had brought djembes down and were sitting in a circle, beating out a rolling, primitive rhythm on the large drums. No one was out on the pull as far as he could tell; well, no one other than himself. This was just friends, chilling together. No agendas. No ulterior motives. He could get used to this.

“And another thing you can put in your article is the criminal lack of recycling facilities along the canal.” God, Aranya was still going on. “I have to cycle for miles to get to a bottle bank sometimes. And we need composting toilets. Those pump-out stations feed the shit straight into the main sewers. We can do better than that. Some of us already do.”

Dan wrinkled his nose. He’d smelt some pretty honking toilets that day. Mel had lectured him that it wasn’t considered polite to use another boater’s toilet unless you really had to. Pissing in the woods didn’t bother him too much, but how could you deal with the shit?

Aranya must have read his mind. “I go out every morning with a shovel. It’s the only way, man. Put back into the ecosystem everything you take out of it. I don’t even use paper. I wipe with my hand and then wash it.”

Okay, that was way too much information. He really didn’t want to be picturing Aranya squatting in the woods like some kind of animal.

When Aranya offered him a joint, he gave it a suspicious once-over. The guy’s hands looked clean, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to put anything into his mouth that had been handled by a man who wiped his arse with his bare hand. Then again, he wouldn’t think twice about rimming a hot bloke, and surely that was no better. Mind you, most of the guys he picked up were pretty scrupulous about hygiene. But what the hell, he wasn’t going to catch anything nasty, was he? Not from the world’s most responsible hippie.

He took the joint, pulled in a hot lungful and choked. As he doubled over, desperately trying to calm his overactive diaphragm, Dan remembered exactly why it was he’d given up smoking.

But when he straightened up, eyes streaming and face burning, there Robin was on the other side of the fire, gazing at him with an inscrutable expression. His face may have been set like a mask, but there was no mistaking the blaze in those dark eyes.