Christmas At Leo's - Memoirs Of A Houseboy (40 page)

I asked and was granted permission to un-collar and change into more relaxed clothes. I then did what a houseboy does best. I tidied up, making the conservatory spick and span. I returned to the lounge in time to say goodnight to Pat, who was retiring to his room with a large glass of brandy and a plate of leftover snacks to watch television.

Even if I’d fancied being a single among doubles I didn’t get the chance. Shane sent me upstairs with a quiet instruction to take my medicine and have an early night. I said a generic goodnight and left, sans brandy, leaving a sprawl of replete Masters and subs to recuperate in the glow of the fire. Bondage Day over.

Upstairs, I got ready for bed and then checked my phone. I had several text messages, two from Lee, one from Rob and one from my mate Tez. I didn’t know if I was glad or sad that there wasn’t one from my mother. I re-read the one she had sent me in the early hours of Christmas Day. Mistake. A host of negative emotions rekindled. I thought of the box hidden away in the den at home, and of the song she wanted me to sing at her funeral.

Dam ‘The Cure’ why were they never on hand with an apposite reminder about boys not bloody crying? All I was getting from them, musically speaking, was a stir of
‘Other Voices.’

Pressing my discarded t-shirt against my eyes, I tried to stop tears I didn’t understand. What context did they have? They confused me. What were they for, past hurts, present ones or those yet to come?

Idiot. I pressed the fabric harder against my eyeballs. I shed tears far too easily. How could I even attend my mother’s funeral, let alone sing at it? Her coffin would need a fricking barge to float it out of the church after I’d finished sobbing a river into the aisle.

Anyway. Slinging aside the damp garment I grabbed the telly remote. It wasn’t an issue, and wouldn’t be for a time yet. I turned the set on, flicking through the channels, looking for some meaningless light entertainment to distract and entertain me.

Chapter Twenty-One - Wrap

Dear Diary,

I’m conscious of having lingered far longer than I should at Leo’s place, so to speak. It seems a long time since I began penning this chapter of memoir. It’s in danger of stretching into something long enough to rival a Peter Jackson script. It’s time for me to wrap things up.

Vince and Jak left Leo’s place after breakfast on the morning after Boxing Day. They had festive obligations to respective relatives to fulfil. They departed, taking their malodorous jackets with them. I experienced another small spurt of guilt at the unenthusiastic expression on Jak’s face as he put his jacket on prior to riding his bike. I told myself that the wind would blow away the trace of prawn spirit still haunting his leatherwear.

On the other hand, Vince’s jacket would need an exorcist to cleanse it. The prawn remains had truly bonded with it. Perhaps it was something to do with the jacket being similar in hue to them, I mused. Maybe they felt a rapport with its orange-ness, as if they’d been reunited with primordial cooked kin of some kind - the Mother Prawn.

Once Jak and Vince had departed, Leo decided the rest of us needed fresh air and exercise before lunch and proposed a drive to the coast for a brisk walk. I welcomed the notion of exercise. I felt confined and jaded. Pat, however, refused to be bullied into outdoor activity. His old bones and nasal passages got enough sea air back home in Brighton, thank you very much. He preferred to stay cosied by the fire with Genny, a book and a box of rich, dark chocolates for company.

The sea air was bracing to say the least. I shoved my hands in my coat pockets as I walked along, scuffing at the sand with my feet, falling further and further behind the men folk. They kept an easy pace with Leo and Mike, striding along the beach as if they owned it. It was like long legs united.

Shane eventually dropped back, falling into shorter step with me. I knew he would at some point. He’d been giving me speculative looks all morning, waiting for the right moment to broach what was on his mind, and also on mine as it turned out.

“You’re quiet today. You haven’t volunteered a word to anyone since you got up, or a smile. What’s the problem?”

“There isn’t one.”

He persisted. “If there isn’t a specific problem, then what is it? Are you sulking?”

“Probably.” I hunched my shoulders, shoving my hands deeper into my coat pockets as a scalpel of icy wind attempted to dissect me.

“About last night? I thought you looked sour when you went off to bed.” Exasperation crept into his voice. “You know Dick needs quiet time with me after we’ve had a heavy session. God knows, Gilli, we take little enough time together.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I keep telling Dick you should go away on holiday again. I’ll be fine.”

Exasperation deepened. “I’ll take a holiday when I see fit to take one. I don’t need your blessing.”

“Okay. Fine. I get it. You don’t need anything from me.” A spurt of anger gave me a spurt of speed, but not enough to accelerate me out of his reach. He caught my coat collar, swinging me back to face him.

“I’m not interested in holidays. I’m interested in what’s on your mind. Is this dour mood a new one, or a continuation of the Christmas Eve tantrum? If so, then it’s been hanging over us for long enough. We need to talk about it.”

“Nowt to talk about. It was like I said. I was tired. I overdid the run. I lost my temper. I’ve said sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t the issue, and the run excuse is utter bullshit!” He said vehemently. “Why can’t you speak it as it is? You make everything such a hard grind, harder than it need be, for all of us.”

“Good job you have Dick to give you pleasure, then, isn’t it, because clearly I don’t.”

He raised a warning finger. “Stop it.”

“You said for me to speak it as it is. That’s how it is. It’s a fact. I don’t give you pleasure, not so you’d notice anyway.”

“I said stop it. I will not be drawn into an emotional game of comparisons, because no one wins, Gilli. Not you, or me or Dick. We’re not engaged in a popularity contest.”

My foot kicked a large flat stone half buried in the sand. I gazed down at it, examining its unremarkable surface.

“Gillibran?”

An exuberant black cocker spaniel saved me from having to respond to the question inherent in his use of my name. Bouncing up to us, it dropped a well-chewed rubber ball at our feet, barking excitedly and wagging its plumy undocked tail. Its lady owner wasn’t far away. She puffed up, hampered by layers of clothes to keep out the winter chill, her breath hanging in the cold air like speech bubbles.

“Sorry, gents. Take no notice of him. He’s harmless. Max likes to try and drag everyone into his game, especially if they look young and fit enough to give him a run for his money, unlike me. Just chuck his ball and he’ll be out of your hair.”

“I’ll give him a run for you.” Stooping, I snatched up the slobbery ball and ran along the beach, calling for the dog to follow me. “Come on, Max, come on, boy.” I threw the ball as far as I could along the beach, delighted when the spaniel rocketed after it, barking with unbridled canine joy, his long curly ears flapping in the wind. I ran after him, laughing and relishing the rush of the wind in my own ears, hoping it would clear out my head.

Dick eventually brought an end to my boy and dog time. He called my name from the promenade, waving his arms, yelling about heading back to the car.

I took my leave of Max and his owner, feeling invigorated and happier for the interlude. They seemed happy too.

Dick slipped his arm around my shoulders, as we walked towards the car park where the others waited in the warm shelter of the car. “You looked like you were having fun back there.”

“Yeah. I enjoyed it. Max is a friendly dog, a bit too friendly. I can’t imagine him being much of a guard dog. He’d want to play with a burglar.”

We walked in silence for a few moments, and then I asked him the question I’d failed to ask when we got up that morning. “How are you feeling, after yesterday?”

He smiled, his eyes still a little dreamy. “Sore, stiff, happy. It was a good session, the best in a long time and just what I needed. Want me to show you later?”

“That would be great.”

“Thank you, honey.”

“For what?”

“For yesterday. You were good. I appreciate it.”

“That’s okay.”

“Did you watch?”

I shook my head. “It was pretty crowded, and you know what I’m like. I get jealous watching Shane kiss you, never mind shaft you in front of people.”

“Poor baby, plagued by the green demon, and with so little necessity.” He squeezed my shoulders and kissed the top of my head.

Shane gave me a cool, reflective look as I climbed into the car, but said nothing.

We stayed on at Leo’s for the holiday weekend, along with Mike and Pat. We did all the usual post Christmas things. We watched lots of films and telly, ate rich leftovers, played board games and generally vegetated in a pleasant way. Mike, Pat and I completed the jigsaw puzzle with a little unwanted interference from the others, unwanted by me anyway, which led Dick to denounce me, in his characteristic fashion, as a possessive little bastard.

We were scheduled to return home on Monday, only, I didn’t want to go. Leo’s place suddenly seemed like a sanctuary. There was no beribboned box of childhood history concealed beneath its roof, no shadowy family ghosts, no painful and unwanted requests waiting to be faced.

After breakfast on Monday morning, I helped pack up all our stuff and then left the men folk to load it into the car. I slipped off upstairs to the bedroom, curling up on the stripped off bed with a book I’d smuggled out of our luggage. Shane sought me out.

“There you are.” He flung open the bedroom door. “We’re ready to go. What are you doing skulking up here?”

“Reading, one of the books you gave me.” I held up the slim volume. “‘Sharpe’s Christmas.’ It’s good. I’m almost halfway through.”

“You can finish it at home.”

“Seems a shame to break the momentum. Leo or Mike will drop me off at home later. You go on with Dick. I’m sure you’ll welcome some time alone with him.”

Shane sat down on the bed and studied me for a few moments. “First you didn’t want to come to Leo’s and now we can’t drag you away. What are you trying to avoid at home, or who? Me?”

I closed the book, smoothing my finger down the thin spine. It was a short story rather than a novel. “I just want to read, and be on my own for a bit. Is that too much to ask?”

“No, not if I thought it was as simple as that. It isn’t though. Nothing is ever simple with you. You’re feeling hard done by. You think I’ve been too harsh with you this holiday, don’t you.”

“Yes.” I said honestly. “I do.” If I’d hoped for regret or sorrow or an apology, I was disappointed.

“It’s my duty to look out for you the best way I can, and sometimes the best way, the only way, is in a hard way, especially when you’re locked in a certain mindset.” He rose to his feet. “As far as I’m concerned, cub, we still have unfinished business to deal with, and it will be. For now, we’re going home, so get your arse off that bed.”

Bending towards me, he grasped my wrists and swung me off the bed onto my feet. “You have responsibilities at home. Frederick is dropping in to see me this afternoon. I have some papers I need him to look over. He’ll expect refreshments. You can serve him a slice of that fancy Christmas cake you’re so proud of.”

“Seems a shame to waste it on old frosty chops.” I sniffed. “He won’t appreciate it.” Frederick, Shane’s solicitor, made old Potter, the archetypal Christmas villain from the film ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ look like a friendly, cuddlesome little bundle of fun.

“Of course he’ll appreciate it, don’t be cheeky, and don’t be cheeky to him, either. Pull faces behind his back again and I’ll skin you alive.”

“He didn’t see me.”

“No, but I did, and I don’t want to see it again.” Taking my hand, he towed me out of the bedroom.

We took our leave of Pat, Mike and of course our host, Leo, in the hall.

“It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Gilli. I’ve very much enjoyed your company.” Pat held out a bony hand.

“I’ve enjoyed yours too, Pat.” On impulse, I gave him a warm hug. “You’ll visit again, I hope, now you’ve broken your travel duck.”

“If these old bones allow it, and you can always come and visit me in Brighton. Consider it an open invitation.” He smiled. “You’re a sweet young man. Dick and Shane are lucky to have you.”

Leo boomed. “Having him is one thing, Pat. Getting rid of him is the problem.”

“Bye, Leo.” I gave him a dutiful peck on the cheek followed by a sugary smile. “See you on New Year’s Eve. I’ll tell Rob to provide plenty of salad. You’ve put weight on over Christmas. We don’t want your kinky tailor having to search for extra large sources of leather. Buffalo hide is hard to come by.”

Mike laughed, swiping an affable paw across the top of my head. “See you soon, kid. Be good.”

“Good.” Leo gave a snort. “He doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”