“I don’t care. Don’t make me carry you up the stairs.”
“Okay, okay. But can I have a quick look at the living room first?”
“Quickly, then.”
Adrian reached past him and flicked on the lights to the living area. Still smiling, Lenny strode past Adrian and stood in the middle of the completely opened-up space, turning a full three-sixty. Adrian watched him with mounting pleasure, Lenny’s eyes marking out what had been done during the week—the complete removal of one wall that used to section off the corridor and the kitchen, the plastic sheeting along the back of the house, filling the hole where the sliding patio doors would fit, the sanded-down floorboards and woodwork.
“Security-wise, are we going to be okay with plastic sheeting on the back of the house?” asked Lenny.
“Security-wise,” said Adrian, matching Lenny’s business-like tone, “there’s absolutely nothing to steal in the house—apart from that dresser, and I’d like to see anyone try—so they’d be wasting their time. And even if they did get past the plastic, they’ll be confronted by me. Or worse still, Toni. So I pity any poor bugger who does try to break in. And remember, by next Friday the new doors and windows will be installed and the place will be completely secure.”
Lenny turned and grinned at Adrian.
“Is that your way of telling me to stop worrying?”
“That’s my way, Mr Day,” said Adrian, stepping closer and grabbing Lenny by the arm, pulling him towards the stairs, “of telling you to stop talking and to get your damn clothes off.”
By the time they reached the top of the stairs, both men were down to briefs, each holding clothes in their arms, Lenny still clutching his large carryall. Adrian led Lenny purposely to the back bedroom, where a light burned, because he wanted him to sleep there and view the remodelled back garden by the morning light.
But first things first.
Adrian had never experienced anyone like Lenny, the complete trust he gave, the way he actively sought to reciprocate sexually. All his past encounters had been one way—even those he hadn’t gotten paid for—and his objective had always been to make sure the other person left satisfied in as short a time as possible. Some habits had become ingrained. Lenny, by contrast, insisted they take their time. And what had initially seemed exasperating had become a revelation and a total turn-on, exploring, experimenting and memorising the other’s body, remembering touches, and kisses, and ways to elicit gasped reactions.
Adrian had been with men of all ages, young and old and in between—but nobody like Lenny. Everything about him aroused Adrian—the man’s natural woody scent, how nothing appeared to faze him in the bedroom, and more than anything, the way he pushed Adrian’s boundaries of intimacy and left him ravenous for more.
Before they slept, Lenny insisted on taking a shower then laid out his clothes for the morning. Once again, he had brought the bare minimum. Track bottoms and trainers, socks and underwear, a couple of sweatshirts and tees. In bed with Adrian, he wore nothing, not even briefs. And Adrian did the same. As they settled back in the bed and lay next to each other, Lenny threaded his hand into Adrian’s, another cosy quirk that had begun to mean the world to Adrian.
As they lay there in silence, both not quite ready to sleep, Adrian filled in the silence.
“Hope you don’t mind, but I showed Toni the Polaroids Freya gave you. Told her the story of Luke. Only fair really, as she agreed to sleep under this roof. Some people might have freaked out.”
“And? Was she fine?”
“Yeah. Nothing fazes Toni. Strong as they come. But she was visibly upset about Luke.”
Lenny went quiet beside him. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought up Luke, especially after the fantastic sex they’d enjoyed. Perhaps he should just let Lenny savour the house and the present. But Toni had suggested things neither of them had considered, something Adrian wanted to discuss with Lenny in person.
“Do you think Luke was in love?” he asked.
Lenny turned his head on the pillow and scrunched his eyebrows up at Adrian.
“That’s a strange question. Why do you ask?”
“It’s something Toni said when I showed her the snapshots. She says that in the later ones, when he’s probably in his mid to late teens, he has that smitten look about him. And when I studied them again, I noticed she was right. He has this knowing smile and bright, laughing eyes when he stares into the camera lens. She thinks he was in love.”
“With Howie?”
“I asked her that. She says it might have been, but she doesn’t think so. Said in all the shots they’re together, they don’t seem anything more than just friends. She said she thinks it’s a secret love.”
“Secret love, huh? Romantic much, this Toni?”
“Yeah,” chuckled Adrian. “But it would be nice to think Luke had someone to love, before he took his life.”
“Or maybe that’s why. Maybe the love wasn’t returned.”
“Unrequited love. Sounds very Shakespearean. But yeah, I never thought of that. And I guess it’s not something we’ll ever know.”
* * * *
That night, Adrian’s dream felt real. He sat in an open field of tall grass, knowing beyond any doubt that Lenny was with him, but never quite in his line of sight. Under a hot summer sun, a fantastic picnic had been set out with selections of cold meats, cheeses, Scotch eggs, pork pies, sausage rolls, pickles, with a basket of fresh fruit and loaves of fresh bread. Luke sat cross-legged opposite Adrian on a red and green tartan picnic blanket, with a young Freya and Pippa each side of him like bookends. He laughed at something Adrian had said while ripping a bread roll into smaller pieces. Pippa unscrewed a bottle of soda, a tube of paper cups in front of her, while Freya laid out the food, arranging the fare artfully onto a wooden cheese board with slices of green apple and dried apricots. Now and again Luke’s smile would blossom, at the rumble of a diesel engine running in a distant field, his eyes drawn to something or somebody over Adrian’s left shoulder. Still, whenever Adrian turned to look, he could not make out the image, the person or thing continually lost from view every time he tried.
Despite the sense of fun and innocence, Adrian felt an undercurrent of something evil, a danger lurking just out of sight of the long grass. Once again, he turned to try and find Lenny, but his lover was nowhere to be seen. When he turned back, Luke’s eyes had become serious, concerned, his gaze on the clouds. And in that moment, the skies darkened unnaturally and someone—Lenny?—was urging them to get up and run, forcibly shaking his shoulder, bringing him out of his reverie.
“Adrian, wake up. Wake up!”
Adrian wanted to protest, insisting the storm would pass, but the voice was unrelenting, the hand continuing to jostle him roughly. Something acrid and toxic assaulted sense of smell. Had somebody set light to the field?
“Ade. Seriously. Get up.”
Adrian surfaced blearily at Leonard’s urgent tone, and noticed him already up, hopping into his track bottoms and track shoes.
“Get some clothes on. I think the house is on fire.”
Chapter Seventeen
Woken
After sleeping soundly at first, Leonard had woken in the small hours. Rogue gusts of wind rustled trees in the back garden and battered the side of the house, making ghostly howling sounds down the chimney and rattling a loose windowpane. Intermittent moonlight, occasionally appearing past what he assumed to be racing clouds, shone through a crack in the curtains, projecting a silver sword across their bedcover. Adrian slept soundly lying on his side facing him, his chest rising and falling, the sound of his breathing even and oddly comforting.
Breathing life back into the old Welsh house had warmed Leonard, in the same way getting to know Adrian first as a friend and now as a lover had felt like a rebirth, a resuscitation even. After meeting a client, followed by the long day of driving and an unexpectedly enjoyable steak dinner, he had been ready to fall soundly into slumber. But Adrian had a way of waking his bo
dy, which in turn stimulated his mind better than a problem waiting to be solved. Now he lay there, awake and alert, thinking about the strange sequence of events since his father’s funeral.
A sudden rush of wind hitting the side of the house dwarfed the faint sound of breaking glass, agitating the trees again and making the whole window frame shudder. Maybe he had imagined the glass shattering, but something nagged him about the sound. When ghostly moans and wails came down the chimneystack and echoed from the fireplace, he lifted his head from the pillow.
He strained his ears to listen when the wind subsided, but a strange calm had filled the room. Until something else nudged at his senses. Leonard had been around enough building sites to know the distinctive smell of burning.
“Adrian, wake up. Wake up!”
By the time Adrian had woken, Leonard was ready to head down the stairs but Adrian, pulling on his sweatshirt and boots and only a fraction behind, insisted they go down together.
From the top of the stairs the orange flicker of fire already lit the stairwell. As they rounded the bottom of the stairs, tall flames burnt fiercely amid broken glass by the front window. Contained in one spot, the blaze already reached as tall as Leonard, feeding on a dust sheet discarded on the floor.
“This is not good. I’m sure that’s petrol I can smell,” said Adrian, who looked tired still, but had rallied from sleep remarkably. “Go outside and call the fire services. Let me handle this in here.”
“Sod that, Ade. I’m going to stay and help.”
“Fine, but please call emergency services first. In case this gets out of control.”
Leonard dialled the emergency number and gave details. He noticed Adrian’s eyes flicker around the room before he headed towards the kitchen area. As soon as Leonard ended the call, he went over to the fireplace and picked up the red bucket of sand. Unfortunately, over time, the sand granules had clogged together, and he had to tip the bucket upside down and thump the base to unstick the contents. By the time he had dislodged the sand and scooped some onto the fire with little effect, Adrian had returned carrying a large fire extinguisher and immediately started dowsing the flames with white powder.
Leonard stood back, amazed at how quickly the flames receded. Before long Adrian had extinguished the fire completely, and the room returned to its darkened state. Both of them stood unmoving, Leonard still stunned at what had happened. Moonlight shone in through the plastic sheeting at the back of the house.
“Do you think it’s safe to turn the lights on?” he asked eventually.
While he had been talking, Adrian must have moved over to the light switch, because the room was suddenly flooded with light. By the starkness of the naked bulbs, they could see the extent of the damage. Not too much, from what Leonard could tell. Fortunately, they hadn’t started decorating yet, so whatever smoke damage had happened could be disguised with fresh plaster and paint. He noticed Adrian studying the front window, pointing to the jagged hole in a large pane of glass.
“This was no accident, Lenny. I’ll bet odds this was a petrol bomb. You want me to see if I can catch whoever did this? They can’t be long gone. I will, if you say the word.”
“Christ, no. Absolutely not, Ade. If they’re capable of this, then what else are they capable of? I don’t want to put you in any more danger.”
“Fine, but this time we get the police involved, yeah?” said Adrian, heading towards the front door, and turning in the doorway to address Leonard. “This is why we always shift all fixtures from the property as soon as possible when we’re renovating. Imagine if we’d piled all those old wooden kitchen units up by the window. This place would have gone up like a tinderbox. Hold up, I think I can hear them approaching. Let me go out to the lane and let them know it’s been contained.”
When Leonard listened, he could hear the faint sound of a siren in the distance. Adrian wanted to be of help, so Lenny let him go. Instinctively, he checked the time on his phone—4:55 a.m. Alone with his thoughts, he looked around the room. Last night he’d barely had the chance to view the renovations, but now he acknowledged the great job they’d done, his enthusiasm tempered in the aftermath of the fire. All walls had been plastered and levelled, all floorboards either sanded down or replaced, ready for a coat of varnish, even the power sockets and light switches Leonard had chosen were installed downstairs. Adrian and Toni had worked hard and the place, when finished, would look amazing. And now somebody seemed intent on undoing everything they had done.
Why on earth would somebody want to burn the place to the ground? Did this have something to do with Luke’s dysfunctional family? Adrian was right, though. Maybe Leonard did not see the need to tell the police about the intruder, but this little stunt could not—would not—go unreported. Tomorrow he would call the home security company he used—Kennedy’s outfit, Grey Steel Global—and get them to install the best they had, front and back. No expense spared and no more pussyfooting around. What if this had happened with Adrian and Toni alone in the house? Had they been injured or worse, he would never have forgiven himself.
Within twenty minutes the room filled with firefighters and a couple of police officers. As best he could, Leonard stayed out of the way and let Adrian do the talking, while he made hot drinks for everyone. Fortunately, somebody—Toni, maybe—had brought a large pack of paper cups, so all Leonard needed to do was boil water and spoon coffee or dunk in tea bags. No doubt, at some point, one of the policemen would want to speak to him, but for now he enjoyed seeing Adrian in action. Both police and firefighters had singled him out because he had been in the house for the whole week and also because he’d had the foresight and good sense to have a class two, dry powder fire extinguisher on-site with him. One of the firemen also pointed out the plastic sheeting on the floor, which was coated with a flame retardant.
As expected, one of the policemen, the younger one, came over to take down Leonard’s contact information and other details. Leonard thought he might ask questions about the incident. Eventually the older of the two, who had been busy looking over the grounds and the rest of the house, moved over to talk to Leonard and allowed the younger man to continue his work. Sensibly, they had divided up their tasks. Much older than his counterpart, this policeman reminded Leonard of the jovial-looking village policeman depicted in early British films.
“You’re the new owner, Mr Day. Is that right?”
“Correct.”
“I’m PC Morgan. Charlie Morgan. I saw you in the pub only last night. I was having a pint with Dave Llewellyn, landlord of the Manor Inn, and our friends. Megan says you’re the late Colin Day’s son.”
“You knew my father?”
“No, son,” said PC Morgan, chuckling. “I’m only fifty-eight. But some of our older residents remember him coming to Disserth, and I’ve known some of your other family members. Why don’t you give me your account of what happened here tonight.”
Leonard pulled out a couple of the folded chairs and invited him to sit. PC Charlie Morgan turned out to be a good listener, nodding and asking pertinent questions. In between, he talked about himself over his cup of tea, as though they were old friends.
“Fifty-eight and still with the Dyfed–Powys Police. Should have got pensioned off years ago, what with all the cuts in forcing, but they managed to keep me hanging on. Not sure if I’m pleased or pissed about that.”
Partway through being interviewed, the firefighters, the other policeman and Adrian came to join them in the very basic, very empty kitchen. Everything appeared to have been wrapped up and they decided to enjoy a bit of respite together. Someone even brought over the yard broom they’d used to clean up the debris. Leonard happily dished out more teas and coffees, found a packet of digestive biscuits in a plastic tub, and placed everything on the small square table. Amused, he realised this would constitute the first gathering he had ever had in the house.
“So what do you think happened here?” asked Leonard as they made appreciative noises about the beve
rages. Behind their heads, outside the plastic sheeting, Leonard noticed the sky becoming paler.
“From what we can tell,” said the older of the firemen, “the fire was started by a very crude Molly—Molotov cocktail—a petrol bomb. They used a clear glass bottle with a plastic stopper, filled with petrol and traces of engine oil. The bottle smashed on impact but the stopper and bottle top are still intact. Good job you don’t have curtains or furniture in the house, otherwise there could have been more serious damage.”
“I only ever employ the best builders,” said Leonard, winking at Adrian, who smiled back. “Who assure me that a clean site is a safe site.”
“Quite right too,” said the fireman, then to Adrian, “I hope he’s paying you well.”
“He’s very generous,” said Adrian, winking at Leonard.
“Well, we’re done here,” said the man clearly in charge. “Charlie, we’ll have a proper report on your desk by Monday, if that’s okay. You coming with us?”
“No, you go on, lads. I’ve got a couple more questions for Mr Day and Mr Lamperton. Bobby, go and move the car, will you? Give the lads room to back the fire engine out of the lane.”
Eventually, the firemen and the younger policeman filed out of the house and closed the front door behind them. Once they had gone, Adrian unfolded a collapsible wooden chair and joined them.
“Very nice brew this, Mr Day.”
“Leonard. Please call me Leonard. And this is Adrian.”
“Leonard and Adrian, it is. So you and Adrian know each other professionally?”
Leonard caught Adrian’s anxious gaze.
“We do. But we’re also old friends.”
“Old friends who shared the same bed last night?”
Adrian coughed and Leonard felt his cheeks getting hot.
“Don’t mind me,” said PC Morgan, grinning. “I’m not judging. I had a peek around upstairs and couldn’t help but notice only one bed had been slept in. But I’m also just trying to figure out motives, and why somebody would want to try to burn the house down in the middle of the night with the two of you still inside. Of course, that’s assuming anyone knew you were inside. Your car is completely concealed by the tree outside and there’d otherwise have been no signs of life. Do you keep any lights on inside the house?”
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