The sceptic, p.31
The Sceptic, page 31
“I think it’s wonderful,” I say honestly, looking at the shower enclosure that’s big enough for even me to stand in it. “God, I’d stay here if I was a tourist. You’ll be booked solid all year round—”
His words register, and I slowly turn to face them. They’re watching me, and I feel my heart beat faster. “It’s given me the room?” I say slowly.
The viscount nods, solemn for once. “Yes, this is all yours, William.”
“What the hell?” I sink onto a chair and gape at them. “What?” I say again.
Tom tilts his head. “This is all yours, lad.”
“But how can it be?”
“Perfectly easily,” Tom says. “We’ve made some changes to things.”
“Yes.” The viscount flutters his hands nervously. “John was here because I’ve rewritten my will. The bookshop and this flat will go to you.”
I gape at him. “But you can’t do that.”
He raises one eyebrow, looking suddenly like the aristocrat he is. “I can’t?”
“You hardly know me.”
“I know enough that it was the easiest decision I’ve ever made.” His eyes grow distant. “Far easier than when I decided to have those two Satanists stay for a long weekend.” He shakes his head. “They were a rather lively few days.”
Tom snorts, and I shake my head, struck dumb. “But why?” I finally ask.
Tom smiles, and there’s something almost sad about his old face. “Lad, quite simply, sometimes good things happen to good people, and they don’t come any better than you.”
“But what about Blue?”
“What about him? He’ll be fine. I’ve left my house to him, and the bookshop will go to him, of course. This flat is all yours.”
“He knew,” I say slowly, pieces of this morning coming together and ending with the image of his knowing smile. “That sly sod.”
The viscount pats my shoulder. “We like the idea of the bookshops being left with two best friends to run. It seems right and makes us very happy.”
Tom claps his hands together. “Well, I must be off.”
I stand up and follow him out of the bedroom. “Tom, I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say thank you, and whatever you do, don’t attempt to hug me.”
“Thank you,” I say fervently.
He gives me a kind smile and, after patting the viscount on the back, he leaves.
Silence fills the flat for a second, and the viscount settles himself down at the dining room table. “Do you like it?” he asks happily, filled with the glow he always gets when he does nice things for people. “I think you’ll be very happy here.”
I look around. “I can't think,” I say. “It’s absolutely wonderful, and I can’t believe you’re giving it to me.”
“It’s already yours,” he corrects me. “That’s why John came. He had papers for this and my will. The dear boy always does his godfather a favour.”
“I don’t understand why you’ve done this.”
He hesitates. “Well, I sort of think of you as the son I was never lucky enough to have, William.”
I feel absurdly touched, my heart swelling like the Grinch’s. “Thank you. I’ve never had anyone do anything like this for me. You know I won’t be silly with it though, don’t you?” I say earnestly. “I won’t get involved with anyone who could take it away from me this time.”
Instead of looking glad, he frowns. “Well now, William, that makes me very sad.”
“What? Why?”
“Because that was never the lesson you should have taken from that unfortunate early episode in your life. Your young man at the time couldn’t be trusted, but that was his character failing and not yours. You have the biggest heart, William. Be cautious, by all means, but when you love, you should do it fully and with every atom inside you.”
I stare at him, feeling tears in my eyes. “Thank you,” I say hoarsely. I take a breath. “Thank you. Tarquin,” I manage. The name feels less awkward than I thought it might, and my reward is his face lighting up.
“Dear boy. I have to say that being possessed by an evil ancestor and burning my own house down has led to the most delightful time of my life. I’m excessively fond of all of you and think of you as my family.” He stands up and pats me on the shoulder. “No, don’t get up. I’m off to open the shop. Stay and enjoy your home.”
“My home,” I say wonderingly. “God.”
His smile makes his eyes crease, and he bounces on his toes. “I have so many plans for you, William.”
Within a few seconds, he’s gone, and I sit for a while listening to the noise of my home. I marvel again at the sound of that, but this time a little smile breaks free, and I give a wild-sounding laugh. “Fucking hell,” I say reverently and then, shaking my head, I set out to explore the flat.
It takes me ages because I open every cupboard, finding surprises along the way. I’m pretty sure the viscount has raided his ancestral home because the pictures look like they’re worth a fortune. Somehow, though, they fit here against the jewel-coloured walls and tall windows, just like the squashy sofa and chairs do.
A few hours later finds me sitting on the floor, resting against the wall by the tall window. I gave in and slept in my new bed for a few hours and then showered in my new bathroom. I can hear people walking along the lane outside my shop, their excited chatter a fitting soundtrack to the most extraordinary week I’ve ever had.
I opened my heart and my bed to a wonderful man, and I have a home after all these years. It’s almost impossible to believe, so I settle back and just rest with the notion.
I think of David and sadness whispers across my heart. He never had this, and I make a silent promise to him that I will make the most of my second chance.
However, no matter how lovely the flat is, it doesn’t hide the emptiness inside me. I miss Jem already. I’ve grown used to being near him over the last few days, and now it’s too quiet. I keep turning around to talk to him, and it’s painful when he isn't there. I want to show him the flat so badly and to talk things through with him. I lift my phone and my finger pauses on his contact picture. Should I ring him?
The knock on the door doesn’t startle me. The shop is closed, so it’s either Tom or the viscount. “Come in,” I call, putting my phone down. “It’s open.”
Footsteps sound as the person nears the lounge, and then I jerk in surprise as Jem appears.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, staring at him. He’s showered, judging by his wet hair, and is dressed in black shorts, old black Converse, and a white linen short-sleeved shirt. I immediately feel at a disadvantage with my dusty clothes and damp hair. He glows as the late evening sunshine picks out a few strands of gold in his hair.
I go to get up, but he waves a careless hand. “Don’t bother,” he says and lowers himself to sit beside me on the floor. He stretches his long legs out and looks around the room before giving a low whistle. “Blimey.”
“You can say that again.”
“Blimey,” he says obediently.
I roll my eyes. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be halfway to London with your penguin-watching gear?”
“It’s called a camera, and I don’t like to break a secret, but I have to tell you that penguins don’t live in Buckingham Palace.”
“Really?”
He shakes his head solemnly. “They’re all in Pimlico.”
I want to smile at this silly conversation as joy at being near him bubbles through me. “Why?”
“How would I know? Maybe the light is better there, or they like the hotels.”
“Wanker,” I say companionably, and we go back to staring around the flat.
It feels horribly right to have him here warm at my side. I can almost hear his brain ticking as it goes around, and somehow, I know he’s mentally snapshotting the flat the way he’d film something.
“Why are you here?” I finally say.
He turns his lively face to me. “William, you’re so laid-back. I thought you’d never ask, and we’d have to sit here for a few years.”
“I did ask. Twice now,” I say just to see him laugh.
He leans into my side and throws his arm over my shoulders. I slump so our heights are the same and rest my head against his. It feels like coming home.
He lifts my hand and drops a kiss on it before saying casually, “I turned the job down.”
“What the fuck?” I pull away from him and rise to kneel on the floor. My knees complain, but I ignore them. “Why did you do that? It’s your job.”
His grey eyes gaze at me softly, like rain on a misty morning. “Something came up.”
“What?”
“You,” he says, and everything seems to go silent. He smiles at me. “You came up, Will Buchanan.”
“You packed a job in for me? Why? How?”
He tilts his head. “Ooh, is this twenty questions? Let me play. Is it a vegetable or a mineral?”
I repress a smile, but it’s hard. My whole body feels flushed and too hot.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” My words are earnest and true, but I can’t help the enormous surge of gladness that swamps me at the thought that he has done that. And yet I know I’m being selfish and should be thinking of him.
“Will, you are the best and only reason I’d ever do it.”
“Why?” My stomach dips as if I’m going to be sick.
He gives me a gentle, somehow knowing smile. “You’re not ready for me to answer that question. Not yet.”
“Maybe never,” I admit in a low voice. I sneak a look at him, but he doesn’t look angry. Why is that? He leaves a job for me, and I can’t even promise him a future.
“I don't believe that, Will. I refuse to believe it, but this is your timetable now. Not mine.”
“But that’s wrong. You gave up a job for me to do what?”
A smile flirts with his lips. “There’s a huge new wildlife study starting in a few months. I’m going to travel around the coast of the UK filming for it.”
I slump in relief. “Thank god for that. I thought you’d given up everything for me.”
“And you wouldn’t like that?”
I immediately shake my head. “I don’t want your happiness to rest on me.”
“And it shouldn’t. Not all of it anyway. It’s wrong for one person to try to be everything. That was you and Jason. Not you and me.” I open my mouth and shut it because I’m unsure what to say. He leans forward a little, fixing his grey eyes on me. “But Will, you have to know that you’re important to me and you’re going to grow even more important.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re kind and funny and shy, and you’re a bit like a screwball ice cream.”
“Is that an attack on my character?”
He laughs. “No. I mean that you were quite cool in the beginning, but after working my way down through your layers, I’ve found this sweet gooey mess.”
I narrow my eyes. “That’s lovely but don’t think I missed that you just called me a mess.”
“Aren’t we both? We each have commitment issues. You run at the first whiff of anything serious, and I’d rather travel the globe than get into bed with the same person for more than two nights running.”
“Well, you’ve had your two nights.”
“That’s how I knew. They weren’t enough.” He fastens a beady gaze on me. “Can you say the same?”
A few silent beats later, when his squint has intensified to DEFCON 1, I sigh and give in. “I missed you, and no, it’s not enough.”
He chuckles and pulls me to him, and I go willingly with no thought of anything but feeling him against me. His body is warm and familiar in a way that makes my eyes hot and blurry, and for a weak second, I lean my face into his neck, inhaling his warm scent and kissing the soft skin.
He drops an almost absent-minded kiss on my hair. “That was like a Shakespearian sonnet,” he muses. “My heart fell out of my chest.”
“Don’t leave it on my floor. It’s hell to get blood out of wooden floorboards.”
And then we’re laughing together, wrapped around each other, and I feel a surge of happiness run through me more powerful than anything I’ve ever felt. Nothing equals it—not flying high on a swing as a child, not passing exams as a teenager, not even the first time I had sex. It all pales in significance next to being with Jem. He feels like my person, and I allow that to sit with me and enjoy it for just a few minutes.
Finally, he stirs. “We won’t make promises,” he says softly.
A thought occurs to me and I stiffen. “Apart from being exclusive,” I blurt out.
He raises his eyebrow, and I say diffidently, “I mean, it’s just a thought, but maybe it would be nice for it to be just us.” I sigh. “Ignore me. I’m being selfish. I mean, I can’t commit to anything, and yet I want you to tie yourself to me only. I’m such a wanker.”
He puts his hand on my mouth. “I’m going to stop this before you get out a whip and start flaying yourself. Yes, we can be exclusive. You know my milkshake has brought many hordes of men into my yard. So many that we had to lay new flagstones. But I’m going to be a brave boy and settle for just the one now.”
He removes his hand, and I glare at him. “Well, it’d have to be your milkshake because it’s definitely not your personality.”
He laughs, and my lips tilt upward at the sound. It never fails to make me smile.
“I feel exactly the same. I don’t want anyone else to have you while we’re doing this.” He pauses. “Fair warning. I want us to be doing this for a long while,” he says, and my smile drops away. “So, we’ll have that one rule. But just know this. I wouldn’t change my work for someone who is nothing to me, and I happen to think this is something special… or it could be.”
I hesitate, feeling his words echo in my head, and for the first time, I allow myself to feel the truth. Then I whisper, “So do I.”
He nods, looking at me seriously. “I don’t want to railroad you into this though, Will. I will go now if that’s what you want. We can go back to being friends. I want to be in your life either way. I’ve laid my cards on the table, and you know I want you for so much more.” He pauses. “And don’t think I’m not noticing that Madame Hecate dealt me the Lovers card. I’m trying so hard to avoid saying I told you so about that woman.”
“You have such a strong willpower,” I say solemnly.
He looks at me but stays silent, and I know he won’t say anything else. Jem isn’t Jason. He won’t manipulate me with easy words and careless declarations of love that mean nothing. He’s honest through to his core, and so he waits for me to make my own decision, uncertain whether I’ll give him the answer he wants but prepared to accept my decision either way.
I stare into his thin, passionate face and take a deep breath to summon up the courage to use the word that scares the shit out of me. I’ve spent years avoiding saying it to another soul for fear of history repeating itself, but somehow now, it’s surprisingly easy to say.
“Stay.”
The word drops into the silence between us like a pebble in a river spreading ripples that will take us somewhere different if we only let them.
He gives me a luminous smile, his eyes gentle and warm. “I thought you’d never ask, Sweet William.” He winks. “It’s fate. Why even BiscuitsAndTea140 said in the YouTube comments that we were made to be with each other.”
“Well, who am I to argue with BiscuitsAndTea140?” I draw him to me and feel his weight against me and inhale the scent of his hair.
We sit on the wooden floor in my new home as the Minster chimes the hour, and I smile as happiness settles cautiously into a tiny part of my heart.
EPILOGUE
JEM
ONE YEAR LATER
Blue shifts position on his chair. “Jesus. This chair is so bloody hard,” he whispers.
“I’m not sure why you’re invoking his name in a church unless you're asking to speak to the manager, Karen,” I whisper back.
He snorts, and a lady sitting nearby hushes us.
Tom shakes his head. “You youngsters wouldn’t know decorum if it bit you on the backsides.”
The lady turns around again. “Could you be quiet?” she says shrilly.
“Madame, that is a question you’d be better asking yourself. You’re making far more noise than I could ever achieve,” Tom says. “Like a herd of peacocks.”
She stares at him for a long second and then flounces back round to face forward.
“It isn't a herd,” Blue whispers.
Tom raises an overgrown eyebrow in a menacing fashion. “Really?”
Blue waves an airy hand. “No, you’re totally right. A herd of peacocks and a herd of cows. Not much difference. Silly me. I only work in a bookshop. Not like I’d know anything.”
“You shelve the books, so unless you’re absorbing the words through the covers, it’s not making you any cleverer.”
“Ooh, it’s Will’s turn in a second,” I say. “Shut up.”
I edge off my chair and into the aisle and then grab my camera from under my chair. I look through the viewfinder at the stage set up in the Minster. The light in here is golden, falling lazily over the old flagged floor, and rainbow colours haze the air from the huge stained glass windows. And suddenly, there he is. Dressed in the same black gown and cap as the other students, he stands out because of his height and tattoos.
I’m a professional cameraman, and the objects I see through my viewfinder are always subject to my intense scrutiny. Almost automatically, I analyse light and shade and colour. But every time I view Will, my focus abandons me, and instead, I concentrate on how gorgeous he is, the blue of his eyes, the width of his shoulders, and the way they stoop just a little, the chipped front tooth, and the way his hair is longer now and tumbling down his neck.
He strides across the stage and offers one of his shy smiles at the alumni seated there. It’s the one that makes his eyes twinkle, and a little dimple pop out. It's noticeable how a few of their faces soften at the sight of him, and one lady in a scarlet gown and velvet bonnet stands up and applauds loudly. I recognise her as his tutor.
