Junction X (18 page)

When I got home, Alex was already installed in my house. I attempted to remain normal and to do routine things. I had to greet my wife, greet my children and, while holding Mary like a shield between us, as she chattered about Guy Fawkes and what Alex had told them about him, I shook his hand and tried not to smile like a love struck fool.

“You’ll stay for dinner?” I said, hoping that this was a reasonable question. “You can either have supper with them or dinner with us.”

“Not a wonderful choice,” Valerie laughed.

The twins clamoured at him to have supper with them and they won, to my enormous disgust. But what could I do? I could hardly be jealous of my own children. We left them to it, stuffing rags into the clothes that Mrs. Tudor had brought them. Under the children’s noise, I heard Alex laugh from time to time and it warmed me deep inside, even though staying away from him, staying out of the room where they were working, was torture. However, the twins pushed us out, saying that they didn’t want us to see the Guy until Sunday night.

I realised at their words that I hadn’t started on the bonfire and hadn’t bought one firework. Saturday looked like it was going to be a busy day as I had golf with Phil in the morning.

+ + +

The change between Phil and me seemed even more marked when we met at the club. The man who met me in the lounge had every attribute that Phil had ever owned: the charm, the smile, the banter. But he was different in a very subtle way. It took me a while to realise what it was, and when I did, I nearly laughed aloud. The change wasn’t in him, it was in me.

I wasn’t waiting for him to initiate an episode. I wasn’t even
hoping
he would—or even that he wouldn’t. I’d stopped considering him in that way completely. It felt strange. Liberating but a little scary, a door opened, a crutch removed.

I didn’t get time to mull over it much then, for we went straight out onto the links. The rain had lessened and was drizzling enough to make conditions cold and slippery; this meant I had to work hard to raise my game on the greens. I played decently enough and beat Phil in both rounds, to his obvious annoyance, seeing as how he had been a member a lot longer. I found that I liked the Sands’ course; it was challenging in ways that Woodlands had never been, with many more slopes and tricky doglegs and several water traps for the unwary. But despite narrowly defeating Phil, I knew I’d have to practice a lot more before the next tournament. The club expected me to take a notch off my handicap by then.

As I worked my way around with Phil that afternoon, I realised that I’d need to spend more than a few days a month working at it. Time. Something I needed, and something I didn’t have. Life was already pulling me taut.

“Well done,” Phil said when we got back to the changing room. He leant across with a five-pound note, which I waved away. “Come on, take it. We’ve always been square about this.”

“You can pay for champagne next time.” I wasn’t looking up at him, and I felt stupid for feeling as though I’d done something wrong.

“All right.”

“You’ll be sorry you didn’t force me to take it, when I’m washing down the second bottle.”

“I won’t be sorry.”

I looked up at him then.

“I won’t be sorry.” His eyes were warm and I knew he was a breath away—if I wanted him.

Instead, I chose to be obtuse. He could be; why shouldn’t I? I felt powerful for once. The memory of his mouth at our last meeting was close and wet in my mind; were it not for that, I might have reached across that small space. But I hadn’t forgiven him for his stupidity. So I changed the subject and tried to ask him how he was doing, but he didn’t want to talk about that, or about Claire—and Fred. I wondered if we’d ever get back to how we were before France, and, for the first time, I doubted it. Perhaps he had been simply biding his time from the moment we’d met. Maybe I was the only one who’d thought we were friends when one of us didn’t have his cock out.

In the clubhouse I was unmerciful, ribbing him about his failure in front of the other members. Some glamour took my tongue; everything I said was witty but barbed, each little pettiness aimed to sting. I took some dark pleasure in doing so, too, and I wondered at myself, later on; when did I turn into him? When did I learn to cover spite with wit? More than once, I saw him looking at me, perhaps with new eyes, perhaps the way I’d looked at him.

I had to leave before lunch and, after booking for the next week, we walked out into the secluded car park together in silence. The rain had finally stopped, and it dripped through the leaves of the horse chestnuts.

He was unusually quiet. When we got to my car, I said, “Well, see you tomorrow, then,” and he took me by the arm.

“You haven’t told me how it’s going.”

I stopped, but didn’t turn around. He was too close and if I turned around, I’d have had to deal with my reactions. I still cared for him, and didn’t want to be the one to say ‘No.’

“I’m not a man who kisses and tells, Phil. You know.”

There was a deep chuckle. He let go of my arm and I slid around, my back firmly against the Bentley. “I’ve always been glad of that.” His voice was nothing more than a murmur in case we were overheard.

“Yes. Well.” The wind had picked up, with a promise of frost behind it. Shuddering, I turned sharply and opened the car door.

“You sure you can’t stay for lunch?”

“Can’t.” That thrill of power went through me again; he was anxious to keep me with him.

“Family? Or…”

“Guy Fawkes.” I was so concerned with getting away that I wasn’t guarding what I said.

There was a horrible pause.

 
After what seemed like ten years, I heard myself say, “We couldn’t have it on Monday—and you…well, we felt that we couldn’t invite you both.”

“No. I see that. So…you’ve invited her?”

“No. Valerie thought it would be…”

“I see.”

I gave in; I couldn’t bear the look on his face and the awkward silence. “Well? Do you fancy coming? It won’t be anything much.”

“All right. I’ll bring some wine.” The sun went behind a cloud. “Valerie’s instincts are so often right.”

I opened the car door, got in and slammed the door. That was a discussion I didn’t want with anyone. Damn him. Anger swelled over me and I wished I could yell at him for making me feel like a bastard. I didn’t need his help for that.

He knocked on the window and, with a sigh, I wound it down. Without a word, he ducked through the gap and kissed me. I pulled away, turned the engine on, drove away. Didn’t look back.

+ + +

I didn’t go home straight away. I had fireworks to buy and I found I’d left it too late to buy them locally. I ended up driving hunting uselessly in the local area and then driving twenty miles to a warehouse that a retailer suggested. “You should’ve come before now,” he said irritatingly.

It was getting dark when I got home; the bonfire would have to wait for the morning. As I drove down The Avenue, I saw Alex’s light on. I cut the engine and headlights and coasted until I was outside number seventy-eight. I played a game of anticipation with myself, forcing my will power to keep my eyes ahead until the car stopped, then slowly turning my head and not allowing my eyes to focus on anything else until I reached his window. The curtains were open but there was no sign of him. I rolled down the window; I could just catch the strains of some music I didn’t know. I wondered what he was doing, what he was thinking. Maybe—I hoped—he was thinking of me.

I yearned for him to stand up—I imagined that he must be lying on his bed—to lean on the window sill, to play Juliet so I could be the Romeo I never had been. Perhaps, I thought, he’s waiting for the purr of the car. All the romance I’d faked once upon a time with Valerie came clear to me as I sat there. That hadn’t been real; that had been playing at mummies and daddies. This—for all its wrongness—was the romance I’d yearned for.

Except that romance doesn’t work on cue in the real world. No figure appeared at the window. Nothing happened. A light went on in the downstairs hall and I realised he probably wasn’t even there, but on the phone to one of his friends, or sitting watching the television with his parents, or perhaps already in my own house, finishing the Guy.

I felt myself go hot with embarrassment. Who did I think I was? How old? Did I really think that a young man like that would be mooning his evenings away thinking about some middle-aged stuffed shirt? It was a nice fantasy, but it vanished under the grimy memory of Phil’s eagerness to know the sordid details of my bit on the side. That was something I was going to have to address.

I started the car and drove the short distance home. As I got out of the car to open the gates in the dark, I couldn’t stop my glance from flickering to his windows. My heart and stomach leapt in my chest for there was my wish fulfilled—Alex, hanging out of the window.

I stepped back into the shadow of the house, pushing my shoulders against the brick, so no neighbour would see me scraping off the last vestiges of wings. It meant Alex probably couldn’t see me either, but that didn’t matter. He knew I was there, falling in the shadows.

I could see little, but it was enough. His chest was bare; the glow from his bedroom back-lit him, obscuring his face but lighting the tips of his curls, the dark pink lobes of his ears. Something hurt inside me, something primal; my hands curled into fists and, for just a few seconds, I half-believed we were together, his hand on my cheek, my hand on the small of his back. I touched my lips and I could feel his against my face—he was kissing me like the lightest of dreams. I worried that he must be cold, then I wished I could see his nipples. Lust. Disgust. Longing. Fear. There was no limit to the feelings I had every moment and forever afterwards. Most feelings linger, even now—but the fear has gone, at least.

I heard a sound in the kitchen and my heart nearly stopped. Valerie couldn’t have seen me without the drive gates open, but it still shocked me back to reality. Alex, too, glanced around as a light came on, illuminating part of the driveway. He ducked inside with a frantic wave of his hand.

Idiocy, idiocy,
I thought as I went through the motions of putting the car away. So the neighbours couldn’t have seen me, but it wouldn’t have been hard to see
him
. Even Valerie could have seen him, had she been in the right place. It wasn’t like her to wait up for me.

All seemed normal, though, apart from the thudding of my heart. Valerie followed me into the sitting room. “Have you eaten?”

I shook my head. I was suddenly tired, as if I’d been tense for days. I collapsed into my chair.

“I thought you’d have lunch at the club. Wasn’t Phil there?”

“He was, but…” I waved a hand. How could I explain I didn’t want to eat with him? “I was worried I’d miss the shops. I did, anyway.” I explained about the warehouse. “But what I got was worth it. These fireworks are bigger—; the owner said that they were for a Parish Council’s display that had to be cancelled.”

“No wonder you look so tired, darling. I’ll make you something.”

I moved to the settee and stared into nothing. I sat up hurriedly when she came back, loaded up with a tray. She made herself scarce until I finished eating. The television bored me and I couldn’t relax. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Alex, his hair shining in the bedroom lights. All evening I could feel her looking at me from time to time while she read and I stared numbly at whatever was on the television screen. I had a bath and went to bed. I was reading when Val came in. She sat down to take off her make-up and I jumped up to close the curtains.

“So, how is Phil?”

“A little annoyed with me, I think.” That much was probably true.

“Ah. You beat him? How is he?”

“A bit better.”

“Good. Claire asked me about him today.”

“Really?” I grasped the velvet in my fist and then paused, pretending to see something on the glass. Alex’s light was off. I wished I could wave into the dark, just in case he was watching. “Should I tell him that?”

“I wouldn’t. She was comparing Fred with him, and not in any favourable light. Oh, darling,” she said, joining me at the window. I pulled the curtains, sharply. “I know we said, but—I hope you don’t mind, I invited them tomorrow.”

“Oh, bloody hell!”

“Darling, the children will hear you. I know we said…but—well, you haven’t
met
Fred…”

“And I don’t want to.” I sat on the bed and pulled my shoes off. “Oh, for God’s sake, Valerie, I’ve invited Phil.”