Lustful Gaze (London Loves #6) (17 page)

Mr Sawhney’s demeanour remained poker cool. “You think anyone would believe you?”

“Let’s find out.” Edward surged towards the door. Scott stood to grab him – he knew
this
wasn’t the way to resolve things. But Edward shrugged him away and spurted onwards.

Mr Sawhney got to his feet. “Edward, you tell a soul about our former relationship, and I will cut Harry completely off.”

Edward halted by the door and turned to face him. “Yeah, you probably
would
do that to your son wouldn’t you? Now you’ve shafted me, you’re gonna shaft him too!”

Mr Sawhney coolly slung his hand to his hip, but Edward didn’t stick around for an answer. He ripped open the door and rushed out to the hallway.

Scott ran after him. “Edward, wait! Don’t do this – you’ll just end up making things worse.”

But he wasn’t listening. He propelled himself down the hallway and pushed past a few finely-dressed guests who were loitering inside. Scott reached out and grabbed Edward’s arm again, but he shook him away. Scott continued trying to talk him out of it, as they rushed into the garden with Mr Sawhney hot on their heels. Scott glanced back and saw he was trying to be calm, but he was clearly starting to panic – what if Edward was
really
planning on doing this? Scott spotted Harry inside a lavish marquee in the middle of the lawn, making small talk with a couple of older women. Edward had spotted him too and was locked onto his trajectory. Scott wished he had the guts to rugby-tackle Edward – for his own good
and
Harry’s – but he couldn’t do that in front of all these people, could he? The drama was going to be bad enough as soon as Edward set foot inside that marquee.

Edward called Harry’s name, so Harry made his apologies to the women and came bounding over to join them. His expression now mirrored how distressed both Edward and Scott were – and his dad’s face was probably covered with fury, too, but Scott didn’t dare look.

Harry halted in front of Edward and grabbed his hands. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

Edward gazed intensely into Harry’s eyes. “He knows.”

“Edward, I asked you not to say anything!”

“Harry,” Scott said, “this isn’t how it seems. Don’t be upset with Edward, he –”

“You’ve ruined everything,” Harry said. “I wanted to tell him in my own way.”

Mr Sawhney stepped forward and grabbed Edward’s arm. “You need to leave. Get off my property.”

Edward ripped his arm free from Mr Sawhney’s grip. “I told you to keep your hands off me, you motherfucker!”

Several people glanced over, but Edward didn’t care. He turned back to Harry and opened his mouth. Scott held his breath, waiting for him to tell Harry the truth about his father. But instead, he crumpled and looked away. He panted for a moment, as no words came out – then he turned and strode across the immaculate lawn back towards the house, defeated.

Scott followed. He could hear Harry and Mr Sawhney exchanging words behind him. He glanced around for Paul and spotted him straight ahead, chatting with a group of young women, who were giggling at his attention. Scott ploughed straight into Paul and grabbed him by the hand.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Paul said. “This is my husb–”

“We’ve gotta go,” Scott said, not stopping.

“Why?” Paul asked, falling into step with Scott. “What’s happened?”

“We’ve gotta find Edward. I think he ran back into the house. And I hope he ran straight out the front door without stopping to cause any damage to Mr Sawhney’s property.”

Paul jogged to keep up with Scott’s desperate pace. “Oh god, he didn’t tell Mr S about him and Harry, did he?”

Scott started to explain, but Mr Sawhney suddenly appeared at Scott’s side and seized him by the shoulder, making him halt. “You tell them to stay away from each other, do you hear me? Your job at the gallery depends on it!”

Scott shrugged him away, then turned to walk off. “Come on, Paul, let’s find Edward and get out of here. We don’t associate with blackmailing bullies.”

“I mean it!” Mr Sawhney shouted.

Scott tried to stop his legs from shaking as he strode with Paul into the house and out the front door. He was sure his boss
wouldn’t
fire him merely because of Mr Sawhney’s demands. But Mr Sawhney was a powerful and generous patron, so it was best not to provoke him.

Scott stepped out into the sunshine and found Edward leaning his elbows on the top of Paul’s car, with his head in his hands.

Scott jogged over and rubbed his shoulders. “Hey. That was a good thing you did – not telling Harry about you and his dad.”

Edward lifted his head. Scott’s heart squeezed painfully as he saw that his cheeks were streaked with tears. “Oh, Edward – I’m sure it’ll work out in the end.”

Edward shook his head. “How?”

Paul stepped over. “Would someone mind telling me what’s going on, please?”

Edward ignored him. “I should’ve told him what a motherfucker his dad really is. I should’ve told him!”

Paul frowned. “But
why’s
his dad such a mother –?”

“Paul, will you shut up a minute, please?” Scott said.

Paul started to defend himself, but Edward suddenly turned and lurched towards the house. “Fuck it, I’m gonna tell him the truth!”

Scott grabbed his shirt, using his bodyweight to block his path. “Edward, don’t be an idiot. Not now; not in front of his family. Just think about what’s best for Harry!”

Edward’s tense body relaxed as the fight seeped out of him. He rested his head on Scott’s shoulder and crumpled into his arms. “I’ve lost him. It’s not fair, Scott. I really, really like him. And now I’ve lost him.”

Harry sat on his huge bed, trying to stop himself from shaking. He hadn’t felt this bad since he’d contracted a fever in India and convulsed for three days solid. But actually, this was much worse, because now his heart was convulsing as well as his wretched body. His mind alighted on the memory of Edward’s cheeky grin, causing pain to pound hard in his chest, like an iceberg tearing a gash in the hull of a metal boat.

He raised his head and gazed around the room through teary eyes. He didn’t feel at home here at all – this wasn’t even the bedroom he’d slept in as a child. Since he’d come back from India, he’d been sleeping in this lavish ‘grownup’ room, with its heavy wooden furniture and gilded velvet drapery, all of which had been shipped over from the sub-continent to make him feel like a prince. He didn’t – he just felt oppressed; exactly as he’d felt in India. The thick red carpet on the floor was the only thing that gave this away as a UK space. Hot-and-humid Delhi homes were usually tiled with marble throughout to keep them cool. And of course, there was no ceiling fan above the bed in here.

Harry’s forlorn mood nosedived further as he remembered hearing about a gay woman who’d been married off to a nice enough guy – but she’d been so miserable that she’d hung herself with her dupatta from the ceiling fan. He bit back his tears and wondered whether his future wife would ever do such a thing when she realised he wasn’t interested in her.

His chest tingled with loss. Why hadn’t he tried harder to fight for Edward? Why had he just let him leave like that? Was this really the end?

He was yanked from his thoughts as his father burst through the door without knocking. He was wearing a paternal smile on his face. “Can I sit down, Harry-ji?”

Harry shrugged. “It’s your house.”

Mr Sawhney lowered himself next to Harry and he rubbed him on the back. Harry knew better than to shrug him away as most of his English friends would. Honouring his mother and father were part of his culture. But what if they were wrong this time?

“It’s not fair,” Harry whispered.

“Haroon, I know. But you are our eldest son. You have a duty of care towards your family – you will become the head of the family when I’m gone, and it goes without saying that you must behave as a good role model to your brother. And to your sisters, too. We can’t let them see disobedience. Where will that leave us? Our family will be ruined, all because of your recklessness.”

“Papa, I don’t want to marry a woman. Why can’t you hear what I’m saying?”

“Well, that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that. And the last, I hope. Marriage isn’t an option for us, Harry. It’s not like here in UK. Marriage for us is for making childrens. Teenage love does not last. I’m saying this for your protection. When you remove fleeting love from the equation, you get stable respect and honour. I respect and honour your mother...”

Mr Sawhney let this hang in the air. Harry glanced up and watched his father shift uncomfortably, as if he was waiting for Harry to argue. But he had nothing to say, so he gazed down at the carpet.

“I am an oil trader,” Mr Sawhney said. “You will be an oil trader. We trade with the Middle East. Can you imagine what they would say if they knew… this thing about you? They would not only cease trade with us, but they would arrest us when we go there. It’s illegal in India for a reason, you know.”

“But it’s not illegal in UK, papa. And I am British.”

Mr Sawhney’s voice dripped with sympathy. “Look, Haroon, we have an understanding between us that you will enjoy your liaisons in Brighton – but you will be discreet, right. And after that, you will marry Meena and she will satisfy your needs. And together you will have a respectful relationship with two children. That is what the fortune teller said. You must understand that we know what is best for you. You are a child. You don’t have life experience. That boy, Edward, he is… not good. I forbid you to see him again.”

“He
is
good, father.”

Mr Sawhney sat bolt upright and reverted to the strict father that Harry had feared as a child. “No! I am aware of what he does for a living – it’s disgusting! Do not go near him again. You will not disobey me. Now stay in your room and don’t leave – or else you will pay the consequences.”

Mr Sawhney stood up and left, slamming the door behind him.

Harry stared blankly into space for a few minutes, as his numb mind whirred like a box-fan. He shook himself out of it. What would Edward do in this situation? And Scott and Paul? Harry grinned and allowed a surge of hope to sweep him to his feet. He changed into his Western clothes and grabbed his wallet and phone, then he fled out the front door, refusing to give up on love.

The atmosphere in the kitchen strained with the tension of plane-crash proportions. Since they’d returned from the party, Scott, Paul, and Edward had sat at the table and tried to dissect what had happened. As the time had slowly ticked by and the twilight had seeped in, the room had become dim – and now the shadows from the streetlamps outside carved gloomy shapes over Edward’s delicate face. He was understandably taking it badly. He looked dejected; slumped in his seat and staring at nothing.

Scott stood up and switched on the light. “I’ll make some dinner, okay.”

Paul nodded gratefully. Edward remained motionless.

Scott didn’t enjoy cooking, but he figured it shouldn’t be too hard to prepare some pasta. He boiled up a pan of water, warmed a jar of bolognaise sauce, and chopped some veggies. He absent-mindedly hummed along to the power-ballad on the radio, but he suddenly realised it was about losing love, so he flicked it off, plunging the room into a steely silence.

Scott glanced at the table, and saw that Edward was now resting his head down on the back of his hands. He wished he could transfer the youngster’s pain to his own heart – he’d willingly absorb it for Edward, and allow him to borrow
his
joyful heart for a while.

He stirred the pasta. “Edward, can you set the knives and forks, please?”

Without looking up, he shook his head. “I can’t eat. I have nothing now.”

Scott and Paul exchanged a glance.

“Don’t be silly,” Paul said. “All’s not lost.”

Edward sat up and rested his cheek on his hand, making him look handsomely pensive. Paul stood and opened the silverware drawer to set the table himself.

“I can’t believe I’ll never see him again,” Edward muttered. “All that crap about how it’s better to have loved and lost is bullshit. This sucks. Worse than any physical pain I’ve ever had.”

Paul placed a knife and fork down in front of him. “Edward, I’m sure you’ll see Harry again. This is just now, not always.”

Edward perked up. “Hey, I could call him!”

“Have you got his number?” Scott asked.

“No, but
you
must have it.”

Scott left the pasta to simmer. “Listen, Edward, as you get older you’ll begin to understand that sometimes you’ve gotta be patient and let the dust settle. You can’t go storming back over there, demanding that Harry’s family fall into line with what you want. You need to learn the difference between reacting and responding.”

Edward frowned. “How do you mean?”

“Well, you can learn that your instant emotional reaction isn’t an objective representation of reality. You can step back a little and decide how to respond, rather than being a slave to your reactions. Get it?”

“Sort of.”

“Look, if you can just wait until the morning, until the emotional impact has faded a little, you’ll see things a bit more rationally, and then you can respond in a more helpful way. We allow our emotions to drag us into situations that we often regret, because we lash out and say things that we’d never say in the cold light of day. Why don’t you sleep on this and see how you feel –”

The door buzzer interrupted Scott. Edward stood up suddenly, flinging his chair back behind him.

Scott held out his hands. “Sit down; I’ll get it. And don’t get too excited. It might not be him. Watch the pasta, please, Paul.”

Scott strode out into the hallway, trying to control his own nerves. He hoped this
was
Harry because he was desperate for the two youngsters to sort everything out. But Mr Sawhney’s threat about getting him fired had derailed him. Scott knew his boss loved him and he was sure she’d probably take his side, but Mr Sawhney was generous to the gallery. This could end badly.

Scott eased open the front door and gazed at a forlorn Harry on the doormat. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and looking much more casual than he’d done at the party. Scott smiled sadly into his eyes then reached out and hugged him tight. Harry collapsed in his arms. He was taller than Scott, but slimmer. It was like hugging a young version of Paul.

“I was worried,” Scott said. “Are you okay?”

Harry stood straight. “Is Edward here?”

“Yeah. Come through. We’re just having dinner. Have you eaten?”

“I can’t eat.”

Scott chuckled kindly. They were both as bad as each other. “Don’t be silly, course you can. Come on.”

Unsurprisingly, Edward shot to his feet when Harry strolled into the kitchen. The dark labyrinths that had haunted his heart dissolved into fairy-dust and he smiled.

Harry loitered by the door and they gazed at each other with uncertainty. Scott stepped over to rescue the pasta – which Paul hadn’t stirred since he’d left the room.

The sauce boiled and bubbled, like the tension between the two young men. Scott grabbed a stack of plates and started to serve up, trying not to stare.

Edward made the first move. He shyly crept over to join Harry by the door, then he reached out and hugged him. Their embrace was awkward at first – Edward placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders and left far too much space between their bodies as he leaned in, so only their chests touched. Harry’s arms slowly eased around Edward’s back – pulling him closer – and Edward stepped forward so their pelvises were touching. Finally relaxing into it, Edward placed his head down on Harry’s shoulder, and they relished each other like long-lost lovers. After a few precious moments, Edward stood up straight and they gazed into each other’s eyes. Harry smiled – momentarily losing himself and forgetting his troubles. He leaned forward and kissed Edward tenderly on the lips. They both giggled.

Harry spoke dreamily. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Edward grinned, caressing Harry’s cheek. “Babes, as you get older, you’ll learn that this is only now, not always. There’s a big difference between reacting and responding. Just wait until you’re nineteen, then you’ll understand.”

Scott chuckled, relieved to have the cheeky Edward back. Harry obviously had no idea what Edward was talking about, but he laughed anyway.

Scott plonked the plates of pasta on the table. “Come and sit down, you two.”

They remained standing, gazing at each other. Scott and Paul sat at the table and shared a tender smile, then Paul picked up his fork and started to eat.

“Harry, you didn’t tell your dad you were coming here did you?” Paul asked.

“No. why.”

Scott sighed. “He said something about getting me fired if I didn’t keep you two apart.”

Edward slung a hand on his hip. “Don’t worry, Scott;
you’ve
got dirt on him that’ll trump anything he can threaten you with.”

Harry’s brow crumpled. “What do you know about my father?”

The atmosphere buckled as the youngsters stared at each other. Edward’s body tensed, bracing himself to reveal the devastating news. Scott felt his own body prickle with electric worry. Was Edward really going to tell him the truth this time?

Eventually, Edward opened his mouth and mumbled, “He was my first client.”

Reality jolted and Harry’s muscles froze as if someone had hit the pause button. He gazed at Edward, speechless, trying to process what his ears had just heard. Scott decided he’d better intervene, so he inhaled to break the silence, but Harry suddenly came to life and charged bodily at Edward, pinning him roughly against the kitchen wall and knocking a plateful of pasta onto the floor on the way. Edward immediately fought back, but Harry leaned heavily into Edward’s shoulders, holding him down and shouting in his face that he was liar.

Scott rushed over as Harry drew back his fist, preparing to punch. Edward turned his face away and steadied himself for the impact, but Scott grabbed Harry and yanked him backwards, almost tripping over Paul who was now crouching on the floor, clearing up the spilt food.

Edward straightened his crumpled shirt. “Oh
now
you get angry! You didn’t fucking fight that hard for
me
, did you!”

Harry struggled in Scott’s arms. “This can’t be true! It’s not true! My father wouldn’t do that!”

He panted as Scott held him close – refusing to let go until he was sure the fury had dissipated.

“It’s true, Harry,” Scott said. “I heard him admit it myself.”

Harry’s eyes filled with tears. “How could you, Edward? How could you do this?”

“How could
I
? What about
him
! What about your mum?”

“I know, I know. God, I’m so sorry. Oh god, please forgive me for attacking you.”

Scott released him from his grip. “It’s okay to be shocked, Harry – I’m sure Edward understands, don’t you Edward?”

Edward wasn’t prepared to comment at this point. He simply looked away.

Harry rubbed his forehead wearily. “I’m just so fucking fed up with everyone fucking telling me what to do all the time!”

Harry’s gush of emotion ricocheted around the kitchen, bouncing off the walls. Scott had never heard him swear before, or even get passionate about anything. It was refreshing to see him letting it all out. His body shook fiercely in the aftermath of the shock. Edward gazed guiltily at him, but there was compassion in his kind eyes.

Harry panted. “I can’t believe this. You… and my father?”

Edward nodded. He smiled thinly. “Obviously I didn’t know he was your dad at the time.”

Harry’s angry expression cracked, transforming to affection. “Of course. I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.”

They gazed at each other silently for a moment, unsure where to go next with this surreal conversation. But then a scrubbing sound whirred up from the floor, seizing Scott’s attention and filling the void. Scott glanced down to find Paul clearing up the spillage.

“Paul can that not wait?”

“It’ll stain – tomato sauce is almost impossible to remove if you don’t get it out straight away.” He smiled gently at Scott, then transferred his attention to Harry. “It’s nice to see you getting passionate about something. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Harry gazed down at Paul. He smiled, then laughed. Edward laughed, too. The tension swirled away like water down a drain. Edward threw his arms around Harry and they hugged tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry said. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“It’s okay. I know it must be such a shock to discover
that
... I’m so glad you came here.”

“Me, too. But oh my god, but this is terrible. What a mess. My poor mother.”

Scott scooted back over to the stove and dished up another plate of pasta. Paul was now picking up the smashed crockery – finally satisfied that he’d scrubbed the expensive tiles clean.

“Come on, boys, sit down and eat. And then we can maybe try to think of a plan of action.”

They all sat around the table and tucked into their pasta.

“There’s only one plan of action,” Edward said to Harry. “We’ll go back and tell your family you’re not marrying a woman – not in three years’ time; not ever.”

Harry pushed his food around the plate. “I’m not sure, Edward.”

“You need to stop being a coward. You’re not in India anymore and you’re eighteen years old.”

“Edward, you know I really, really like you, but I’m not sure if –”

“Don’t do it for
me
, Harry! Do it for yourself. You’re lucky to live here – in a country where you can be free. The only prison is
your
mind; the restrictions you put on yourself.”

“Very eloquent, Edward,” Paul said. 

“But my culture says romantic love doesn’t last,” Harry said. “That it’s fleeting.”

“But Scott and Paul are still happy and in love. Okay, it’s true, Paul drives Scott crazy with his obsessive tidying, and Scott drives Paul crazy when he leaves his socks on the bathroom floor. But they love each other. They’ve been together since they were younger than
us
, and they’re still together now.”

Paul swallowed his mouthful. “But we
are
quite rare. Gay, straight, or anything in between. Most relationships don’t last.”

Scott kicked him under the table. “Paul – don’t deter them!”

“I’m just being honest, cupcake.”

“You guys aren’t listening,” Edward said. “This isn’t about me and Harry – of
course
this relationship probably won’t last. But what about Harry’s future relationships? He needs to tell his parents he’s gonna live his life the way he wants.”

Harry rested down his fork. “But they won’t pay for my education if I stand up to them now. Maybe after uni. I get what you’re saying, Edward, but you don’t understand my culture.”

“Will you shut up about your bloody culture! You’re British. If you wanna go to university then pay your own way – unless you want your parents to control you forever?”

“Of course not.”

Edward held his hand across the table. “Babes, I’ve learnt that the only way to be happy in this world is to take responsibility for yourself. You need to become an independent human being. Obviously there’s nothing wrong with accepting financial help, but if it comes at the price of your freedom – is that really okay?”