Gareth Dawson Series Box Set

by Nathan Burrows

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t rude, was I?” Jennifer laughed, and I grinned up at her despite a bastard of a headache behind my eyes. I must look like shit, unlike Jennifer who looked like she’d had a great night’s sleep. I sat up on the sofa, running my hand across the back of my neck as the pain in my head shifted to a tight band across the back of my neck.

  “Not at all,” Jennifer said, still laughing. “I was in the middle of telling what I thought was a hilarious story about my brother when I looked over to see you’d passed out. Not quite snoring, but not far off.” She laughed again, much more of a morning person than I was. I looked at my watch. Almost seven o’clock in the morning. I rarely got up much before ten, so being awake at this time of day was an unusual experience.

  By the time Jennifer had finished in the shower, I had drunk the tea. She walked back into the lounge, still wearing her dressing gown and with wet hair cascading over her shoulders. She looked beautiful and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was wearing anything underneath the dressing gown even though I’d just woken up and was hungover as hell.

  “I’d better be going,” I said. “I’ll get out of your way, but thanks for the tea. It was perfect.”

  “No problem at all,” Jennifer said. “And thanks for your company last night, it was just what I needed.” Truth be told, I couldn’t remember a great deal about last night beyond the red wine being opened. I remembered nothing about a funny story involving her brother, and I didn’t remember her putting a blanket over me or removing my shoes. I hoped my feet weren’t too offensive.

  “Where do you want me to put this?” I asked, waving the empty mug at Jennifer.

  “Oh, just leave it there. I’ll wash it out later,” she said. I walked to the front door of Jennifer’s flat and opened it. The bright sunlight outside hurt my eyes, but the fresh air was just what I needed.

  Across the road from her flat was a bright red BMW with a familiar face up behind the wheel. I turned back around, to see Jennifer holding the door open and peeping round it. This would not look good for matey boy sitting over the road. Jennifer seeing me out of her flat first thing in the morning when she was fresh from the shower.

  “Why is Robert sitting outside your flat at seven o’clock in the morning?” I asked her. She groaned.

  “Oh God, he’s not, is he?” I stepped aside so that she could see him. If Robert hadn’t seen her in her dressing gown, he could now. Oh well, some you win some you lose.

  “Do you want me to have a word with him?” I asked her, looking back at the BMW. It looked brand new, but I don’t really know much about cars. Tommy would know the make, model, and how to nick it, but he wasn’t here.

  “No, don’t worry,” she said. “He’s been there twice this week and not said anything or done anything.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Honestly,” she said. “It’s fine.”

  “Okay, but if you change your mind, just let me know.”

  I descended the steps outside her flat and walked toward the end of the road. When I turned to look to see if Jennifer was still standing at the door, it was shut. I was kind of hoping that she would be standing at the door, waving at me or something like that. As I reached the end of the road, I heard a car pull up alongside me. I turned to look, and sure enough, it was Robert. The look he gave me was one of absolute fury. I didn’t want to make things more difficult for Jennifer, but I couldn’t help winking at him and giving him a knowing grin. He wasn’t to know I’d spent the night passed out on her sofa, so let him imagine away what might have happened. The BMW’s tyres screeched as he sped up hard away from me, and I noticed his personalised number plate. It spelt ‘RO3 ERT’. Robert.

  What a cock.

  5

  I’d been going out with Jennifer for two months when she decided that it was time for me to meet her family. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d met a girlfriend’s family. It must have been while I was still at school. I guess that was because I wasn’t the type of bloke that girls wanted to introduce to their families, or perhaps it was because I didn’t have that many girlfriends.

  Meeting the family seemed like things were getting serious between Jennifer and me, which in fairness they were. It had taken another couple of weeks after the night I’d passed out on her sofa for me to stay over again. Even now, after everything that's happened, I can’t think about that second night in her flat without smiling. It was amazing. Jennifer was amazing. Was I amazing? I like to think so, but doesn't every man? I’d felt a massive sense of relief, emotional and physical, as I lay in her arms afterwards. We were both breathless, naked. Jennifer had used her thumb to mop a bead of sweat from my forehead.

  “Well that was rather nice,” she’d said with a sly smile that I’ll remember until the day I die. “Can we do it again?” So a bit later on, we did. That night, I didn’t have a drop to drink until we were both exhausted.

  There was still a nagging doubt in my mind she wasn’t interested in me as a person, but that I was useful to have around. I wasn’t complaining though, and I tried to convince myself that it didn’t matter if she didn’t like me in that way. I was having fun, and I thought she was having fun. So where was the harm in that? The other problem was that she had no idea about my part-time job, and the more time I spent with her, the more uncomfortable I got about my secondary income. I’d even considered, but not mentioned it to a soul, giving it all up and going straight.

  But, despite those issues that nagged inside my head, like me she did, and I have to say we made a good couple in the early days. Tommy didn’t help when I told him that Jennifer and I were seeing each other. He’d said I was punching so far above my weight I needed a ladder. Despite him, the first few months of that summer was one of the happiest times of my life. I’d been so nervous as we drove to her Dad’s house I’d almost bottled it and asked her to drop me off at the nearest pub. We drove towards Thorpe End, a village on the outskirts of Norwich where even the smallest houses had names, not numbers, and I would have stuck out like a sore thumb at any of the pubs we passed. I was wearing my only suit, which was much tighter around the neck and the waist since the last time I’d worn it. I’d bought it a few years ago when I was thinner, and even with the top button of both the shirt and the trousers undone, it was still too small. When Jennifer slowed down to turn into her Dad’s driveway, I realised that the house couldn’t be seen from the road but was hidden behind large, mature trees. The tyres rolled over the smooth weed-free gravel as we pulled into the drive, and she parked her Mini behind a brand-new Audi TT.

  “My brother’s car,” Jennifer explained when she saw me admiring the Audi. “He got it with last year’s bonus.” I didn’t know what it was he did, but to buy a TT with the bonus he got for doing it meant he must be doing well. I looked at Jennifer’s Dad’s house, which loomed above us as we walked toward it, our footsteps crunching on the gravel. The house was enormous, red brick, white windows on two stories with a steep roof. It loomed over us as we approached, not menacing but not friendly either. Either side of the front door the house jutted out like it had stately home style wings, and the grandiose effect was finished by a large garden. No nosey neighbours on this street. I wanted to ask Jennifer why she lived in a little flat on the edge of a council estate in Norwich when the rest of her family seemed to be minted, but I thought better of it.

  The man who opened the door as we approached was the same guy I’d seen in photographs in Jennifer’s flat. He was in his early sixties by my guess, and still in good shape. Six-foot two or three, about the same height as me, and he had broad shoulders. The man didn’t have an ounce of fat I could see. Smart brown trousers, an open-necked blue shirt under a multicoloured jumper with a large diamond pattern. He wouldn’t have looked out of place on a golf course, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d owned a golf course.

  “You must be Gareth?” he asked, an inscrutable look on his face.

  “I am, sir,”
I replied, following Tommy’s advice about meeting the parents, or in this case parent. Be respectful, Tommy had said. Always call them sir and ma’am, rhymes with jam. I extended my hand outwards. “Pleased to meet you.” He looked at my hand, frowning before his face split into a wide smile. He grabbed my hand and almost crushed it.

  “Ha! I’m Andy, Jen’s Dad, obviously. So you’re the boy who’s had such an effect on my baby girl?” he said, shaking my hand up and down. I tried to grip his hand back, but he’d got my fingers like a vice.

  “Dad, please,” Jennifer said, her face reddening as she pushed past him and walked into the house. He laughed in response, a loud booming laugh that endeared him to me straight away.

  “She’s only my youngest by a few minutes, but she’s still my baby girl,” he said, looking at me. The wide smile on his face faded, and he looked at me with an earnest face. “I am pleased to meet you though, Gareth. She’s not shut up about you for the last couple of weeks, and you look a hell of a lot better than most of the tossers she’s been out with over the years.”

  I was suddenly uncomfortable. Although I’d been with Jennifer for a few months, we’d not discussed previous partners. I knew about Robert but knew nothing about anyone else. At least my revelations wouldn’t take long — I’d been with exactly two and a half women in my life before meeting Jennifer. The half was an experience in Amsterdam that I’d rather forget, with a Thai lady who’d looked mighty fine in the window but turned out to be not quite as advertised.

  “Come in,” Andy said, still gripping my hand. “Please, come through. Welcome.” He let go, and I resisted the urge to massage my fingers as he walked into the house. I followed him through the front door into a hall that was bigger than my entire flat. His downstairs toilet was probably bigger than my entire flat. Family photos covered one wall, and there were a few of a much younger Andy playing cricket and holding up trophies. As we walked through the hall, a bunch of framed medals on the wall caught my attention. They were mounted one above the other, large bronze discs surrounded a thick walnut frame. Leaning towards them as I passed I saw that they were medals for finishing the London Marathon. The most recent one was only last year. Andy went up in my estimation. Although I used to run a bit when I was younger, I could barely run for a bus these days, let alone finish a marathon, and he had to have forty years on me.

  We walked into a light, airy kitchen with an industrial size cooker in the centre taking pride of place, and the most fantastic smell of cooking meat in the air. Leaning up against the cooker was a man who I knew was Jennifer’s brother, Jacob. I knew it was him as I was expecting him to be there, but what I wasn’t expecting was how much he looked like Jennifer. She’d laughed when I’d asked her if they were identical twins. Apparently that wasn’t possible, but they still looked pretty damned similar to me.

  “Gareth, is it?” he said, walking toward me, hand extended. Jennifer’s family were big into handshakes.

  “Yes, and you must be Jacob?” I replied, shaking his hand. A normal handshake this time. “Jennifer’s told me all about you,” I said. He sighed before replying.

  “Oh, really? What’s she said then? Just so you know, I’ve got more dirt on her than she’s got on me.” He flashed a smile at Jennifer, who was leaning up against the kitchen counter with a glass of wine in her hand. She grinned in response and raised her glass in our direction.

  “Don’t worry Jacob,” I said. “It’s all good.”

  “I should hope so,” he replied, smiling again at Jennifer. It was strange talking to him, knowing he was her twin brother. He spent a fair bit of time in the gym, that was obvious from his oversized arms, broad shoulders, and tapered waist. But he shared some of her mannerisms, like the way he stood and the way he smiled. Jacob glanced at Andy and lowered his voice. “Jennifer told me how you two met. That was good of you to help her out.” I shrugged my shoulders.

  “It was nothing. Her ex just needed some gentle persuasion, that was all,” I replied.

  “Is he still hanging around then, your ex?” Jacob turned to Jennifer. “You said he was the other night.” I looked across at Jennifer. She’d not mentioned that.

  “Robert’s fine,” Jennifer waved her hand at Jacob. “He’s got the message, don’t worry.” I could tell from the look on Jacob’s face he was worried and wondered if perhaps I needed to have another word with Robert. As I thought about the best way to do this, Andy walked up and handed me an ice-cold can of lager and a glass that felt like it was fresh from the fridge.

  “There you go, Gareth,” he said. “Get that down you. After you’ve had a couple of beers, we’ll all seem normal.” He laughed at his own joke, and the rest of us gave polite chuckles. “Right then,” he rubbed his hands together. “Let’s get this show on the road then, shall we?” I caught Jennifer rolling her eyes at her brother. In fairness to her, she had warned me about this. Dinner was a family affair in Andy’s house, and that included the preparation.

  For the next hour, I peeled potatoes, diced swede, and took the top of my finger off trying to cut an X into the bottom of a Brussels sprout. Jennifer and Jacob both gave up after about half an hour, Jacob offering to nip out to get more tin foil. Jennifer went with him, saying he’d need a hand. She avoided my eyes as she walked past me, but I could see her trying to keep a straight face. She pinched my backside as she brushed against me on her way out, and it was my turn to try to keep a straight face. Thinking back, they must have planned it in advance to give me some time alone with Andy.

  “I meant what I said earlier, Gareth,” Andy said, his eyes meeting mine for a second before returning to whatever he was chopping up. “Jen seems thrilled being with you. I’ve not seen her this happy for a long time.” He paused, knife mid-chop, and looked back at me. There was a sadness behind his eyes. “Not since before her Mum died, I’d say.”

  We took a break from the lunch preparation, and Andy decided that we needed what he called a “cheeky drink”. For him, this was a very large whisky. I declined one, deciding to stick to beer to be on the safe side. Andy slid the patio doors open and stepped through them. I followed him, realising for the first time just how big the garden was. You could put a goal at either end of it and not be far off a football pitch.

  “It’s getting warmer, isn’t it?” he said as we walked onto the patio. “I’ve heard we’re in for a scorcher this summer.” Andy sat in a chair facing the long lawn and took a deep breath. I joined him and we both regarded the garden in companionable silence, bathed in the weak sunshine.

  “They’re very close, the two of them,” Andy said. “Jen and Jacob, I mean.”

  “Less than two minutes, I’d heard,” I replied, proud of myself for coming up with that one on the fly. Andy laughed.

  “Superb, Gareth,” he replied. “I can see why she likes you. Seriously though, they are. Well, they’re twins but even so. He’d do anything for her, but half the time she refuses any offers to make her life easier. Wants to make her own way, she says. I’m comfortable enough, and Jacob’s doing all right for himself. We’ve both tried to help her out here and there, but she won’t have it.” I wondered if Andy knew how Jennifer and I had met when she most needed some help. It wasn’t my place to tell him if he didn’t know.

  “I take it that Jen’s told you about Jacob, has she?” he said a few moments later.

  "Er,” I replied. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “That he’s a left-handed batsman?” he said. I thought for a second before replying.

  “No, sorry. I’m not with you.” I had no idea where he was going.

  “Sits on the top deck of the bus. You know? Plays for the other team,” Andy said. I looked at him, none the wiser. “That he’s gay?”

  “Oh, yes. I see what you mean. No, she didn’t tell me he was gay.” Left-handed batsman? I had never heard that phrase before. We sat for a moment and I took a large sip of my beer to cover the silence.

  “I’m quite keen on grandchildren, you see. I
think I might have to call you ‘Obi-Wan’ if that’s okay?” Andy paused before continuing. “You’re my only hope.” I snorted, inhaling beer and coughing. It wasn’t helped by the fact that I was trying to laugh at the same time. He roared with laughter, slapping me on the back, just as the patio doors opened and Jennifer and Jacob looked out.

  “So this is getting lunch ready, is it boys?” Jennifer stood with her hands on her hips. She had a stern expression on her face, but she couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth twitching. Jacob was just behind her, holding a roll of tin foil in the air as proof they’d accomplished something.

  By the time Jennifer and I were driving back home that night, I was in a fantastic place. We’d eaten until we couldn’t eat anymore. Andy and I had got drunker throughout the day while Jennifer had switched to diet coke after her earlier glass of wine. I’d tried to persuade her we could get a cab back, come back and get the car tomorrow, but she wasn’t having it. Andy had even suggested that we both stay over, in separate bedrooms but that wasn’t on the cards either. The whole day had just been so comfortable, and I’d experienced something that I’d not experienced for years, if at all. At the risk of sounding dramatic, I felt as if I belonged.

  We were lying in her bed, both exhausted but wide awake. Jennifer turned and propped herself up on her elbow.

  “Thank you for today, Gareth,” she said.

  “What? Thank you for bleeding to death doing the sprouts and laughing at your Dad’s awful jokes?”