Red Sky by Morning

by Black, Fabian

  Postcards from a Seaside Village

  Red Sky by Morning

  Fabian Black

  Copyright © Fabian Black 2011

  Smashwords Edition

  This electronic book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords to purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  http://www.fabianblackromance.com

  Chastise Books

  Cover Art by Dare Empire

  Table of Contents:

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Postcards From A Seaside Village

  Red Sky by Morning

  One

  Lin woke from a restless sleep to find the bedroom robed in a fine dawn light. It was pleasantly warm with none of the heavy humidity that would weight the air as the day progressed. A glance at the clock told him it was twenty past five. Beyond the bedroom window nature was already in full voice with seabird calls competing with the song of garden birds, rock stars versus ballad singers.

  David was still sound asleep, lying on his stomach, arms tucked under his pillow, as was his custom. His face was serene in repose, light playing along the natural tints in his light beard, something slightly more than stubble, but much less than facial hair, designer stubble as it was called.

  Lin tried to regurgitate annoyance against him, but couldn't. Instead he traced a gentle finger along his jaw, feeling a swell of pride because he had a claim on this handsome man. Pride gave way to a sudden fearfulness. He often wondered what David saw in him when he could have the pick of anyone.

  Getting out of bed he padded across to the window opening the blinds a touch to view the new day, which nestled under a soft blue sky streaked with broad bands of fiery red. Its beauty was tainted when an ancient suspicion popped unbidden into his head: ‘red sky by morning sailor take warning.’ His unkind mind chose to use it as a presage of doom, going so far as to replace the generic term sailor with the specific name Linval.

  Anxiety clawed at his guts, seeking something to feed on. He glanced back at the bed. There was no guarantee of forever stamped on any relationship. Perhaps today would be the day David fell out of love with him. Such things happened. Real life wasn't a romance novel with a HEA stamped into the author's contract. Someone younger, nicer, better looking, more successful would come along and David would wonder why the hell he'd wasted so much time with him.

  Some measure of Lin’s anxiety trickled through David’s somnolent sensibilities. He opened his eyes, murmuring. “What’s the matter, love?”

  “Nothing’s the matter. It’s morning, that’s all.”

  David twisted his head to look at the bedside clock, “only just and you were tossing and turning until gone two.” He rolled onto his back, holding out his arms. “Come back to bed.”

  "I thought I'd go out for a run."

  "Later. Come back to bed."

  The annoyance Lin had sought to conjure moments earlier now came without effort, but he did as he was told, returning to bed and lying down, curling on his side with his back to David.

  “What are you fretting about this early in the day?” Undeterred by the obvious rebuff David also turned on his side, spooning Lin, kissing his bare shoulder.

  “Nothing.” Lin inched away from David's body.

  “Untrue. You’ve got anxiety oozing out of your pores. Is it a specific anxiety or broad-spectrum undefined?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Are you still angry about yesterday?”

  “Not much I can do about yesterday is there.”

  “Not a thing, love. So there’s no use fretting and fuming. Let it go and be at peace. I have no regrets about it. Come to me, come on, turn over.” David handled Lin with ease, overcoming his resistance and settling him against his body. “Everything's all right. Close your eyes, try to sleep for a while longer. You need your rest or you'll be out of sorts all day and I've had enough of being snapped at. I'm not the enemy and I'm tired of being treated as such.”

  Lin obediently closed his eyes, feeling the rise and fall of David’s chest beneath his cheek as he breathed. He tried to match the pace of his thoughts to its calm rhythm but without notable success.

  His mind throbbed with a question he wanted to ask, while certain he already knew the answer, an answer he was unwilling to accept. He gave a low sigh, trying to think of ways of posing the question so it sounded the right note, a note he'd hitherto failed to convey. One that would convince David it was time to reopen The Venus because he was now composed enough to resume his duties.

  David was well aware of the turmoil going on in Lin’s mind, reflected in the growing tension of his body. He was sympathetic, but also resolute about the way things were going to be played out. He used plain words. “You know the score, there's no change.”

  Lin suppressed a rise of temper as his question was answered without him even getting a chance to voice it aloud. He cleared his throat, trying to sound unruffled. “Ease up, David. It’s Saturday. Let me open even if it's only for the morning session. I can manage coffee and cakes. We might as well jump on the bandwagon of extra trade before it pulls away.”

  Despite his best intentions a note of tremulous excitement crept into his voice. “I could put some of my books on sale. I’ve got a box leftover from the last print run. I bet they’ll be snatched up now, especially if I sign them. People love signed copies. What do you think?”

  “I think you’re not listening to me.”

  “Is there something wrong with my books, don’t you think they’re good enough to sell anymore, is that what you’re telling me?”

  David refused to rise to the bait. “I've suggested any number of times we offer a range of your books for sale in The Venus and you've always said you're running a restaurant not a book shop. If you've changed your mind it's something we can think about at a later date.”

  The words didn't soothe Lin's temper. “I don't want to think about it at a later date. I want to reopen this morning. And by later date what exactly do you mean? Next week, next month, some time never?”

  “Enough.” David patted a cautionary hand to Lin’s bottom.

  “The Venus has been closed for three nights. You’ve more than made your point.” Lin rolled away from David to lie on the far edge of the bed. “I’ve been punished enough for what I did.”

  “Just as it’s for me to decide if a point needs to be made, so it’s for me to decide when the point has been made.”

  Placing his hands behind his head, David studied the bars of white gold light rippling across the walls and ceiling as the inquisitive sun poked through the vertical blind slats. “It’s also for me to determine when you’ve been punished enough. Though as well you know this isn’t purely a case of punishment.”

  “Bloody feels like it.”

  “Only because you’re determined to view it as such. You're not in the right frame of mind to resume cooking for the public. Your attitude is exactly the same as it was on Wednesday when you tried to go behind my back and open for business when I'd said no.”

  David sat up, all sleepiness gone. He didn’t enjoy seeing Lin miserable and angry, but he would weather it. His behaviour on Wednesday had shown he needed a strong reminder about who held seniority in th
eir relationship and how serious the consequences of forgetting or ignoring it could be.

  If another restaurant did open nearby it was especially important for Lin to be clear about who had the final word on matters, because given half a chance he would go all out to compete and keep ahead. He’d already begun the process. It was the only reason he wanted to reopen The Venus, not for the joy of cooking, but because he was obsessing about keeping one step ahead of his, as yet, imaginary rival.

  There'd be no pleasure in the activity, only stress. His temper would shorten because things weren’t matching the model of perfection in his head. Every single thing he produced in the kitchen would be held against something this 'other chef' might produce, and be found wanting. It would also likely be found splattered over the kitchen walls. His tension would transfer from the kitchen and affect everyone from Lucy to the customers.

  Lin tried another tactic. "Apart from anything else," he twisted his head to look at David, "it isn't fair on Lucy. She's saving up for driving lessons and a car. She needs the money. If her dad's illness does progress to a stage where he'll need to use a wheelchair then her having transport is vital, to get him to the hospital for his appointments."

  "Lucy isn't losing out. The Venus being closed hasn't affected her wage. She's still doing the general cleaning and what she's missing by working in the restaurant she's making up in other ways. She cleared the backlog of ironing while we were away yesterday. If anything she's earning more because Harry has given her some evening work in the bar of The Golden Lion."

  "You play more fair with the hired help than you do with me. If we stay closed much longer I'll lose my touch. Is that what you want, for me to be second best? I have to keep on top of my craft, especially if another chef does move in on my patch."

  After uttering another silent, heartfelt prayer for a carpet company to have bought the old chapel, David reaffirmed his position. “The Venus is closed until I say otherwise. You may not like it, but you will accept it. I'll reconsider the matter when I'm satisfied your attitude has changed.”

  “You're being a total pig over this.”

  “I can be a much bigger pig.” David glanced at the resentment stiffened back. “If you continue to fight and snipe at me then be warned I’ll consider augmenting my decision with something more than words, do you understand?”

  "Yes." Lin abruptly sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m going for a run before it gets too hot. If that’s all right with your majesty of course?”

  “Go if you think it will give your mood a lift. Make sure you stay well away from the seawall and the chapel. Standing staring at them won't solve anything, it will simply hype you up further." He stretched out a hand, only to touch air as Lin stood up, moving out of the path of the caress. He too got up, pulling on boxerbriefs to cover his nakedness. “You’ll need something to eat before you go.”

  “I can’t run with a full stomach and I’m not hungry anyway, so you might as well stay in bed.” Lin dragged a t-shirt over his head.

  “I’m up now. I’m not suggesting you partake of a full English breakfast, just something light to give you some energy and stop you passing out when your blood sugar drops like a stone. Be sure and put plenty of sun block on before you go out. It might be early but there’s already heat in the sun.”

  Lin pulled a face, but didn't comment, stalking off to the bathroom to pee.

  Putting on a pair of shorts David made his way downstairs to the kitchen, turning on the radio to catch the day’s headlines. He filled the kettle and plugged it in.

  Looking out of the window into the sunny garden he watched in amusement as an irate sparrow soundly scolded a large black-headed gull for having the temerity to splash around in its birdbath. He loved this place, never ceasing to marvel how well he’d adapted to a slower pace of life. Not for a moment did he regret leaving the rush, grime and noise of life in the city. He could pretty well keep in touch with his business interests via the Internet without having to go into a stuffy office every day.

  He caught sight of Henry striding purposefully down his garden path, attired in baggy pyjamas patterned with a broad horizontal stripe. They reminded David of the cartoon villains depicted in children’s comics. All Henry needed was an eye mask and a bag with SWAG emblazoned across it.

  No doubt he was on his way for an early morning confab with his beloved bees and no doubt they'd issue him with a weather report. In the wake of his own odd experience on the day of the storm, which he had kept to himself, David was more respecting than ever about the bees, and Henry's, capabilities. In his own case he didn’t need the local weather sage to tell him the forecast for his day was likely to include some choppy seas.

  Lifting a banana and a kiwi from the fruit bowl he peeled and chopped them into a small glass dish, setting it on the table. The fruits wouldn’t be too heavy on Lin’s stomach, but would give him some fuel to run with.

  The kettle boiled with a fanfare of steam and he poured the water into the teapot, briskly stirring a spoon around the contents to hasten brewing before putting the lid on, grimacing, as he heard a mental echo of Lucy’s scandalised voice when she had first observed him perform this atrocity. ‘Ee, Mr Jordan, you mun never stir tea like that. It has to mash natural or you won’t get the true flavour.’ He had humbly apologised for his ignorant southern ways, but habit usually won out and he stirred instead of allowing it to 'mash' naturally.

  Setting the pot on the table he slipped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster for his own breakfast. As he waited for it to toast he gently flexed his right knee back and forth. It was stiff, the ligaments strained as a result of the storm drama. His foot still ached too, though he couldn't help but admire the glorious array of colours as the dense bruising faded from black and purple to greens and yellows. It was rather magnificent in its own way, a trophy of a traumatic event.

  Red Sky by Morning

  Two

  Sitting on the bottom stair lacing his running shoes, Lin listened to the sounds of domesticity coming from the kitchen, accompanied by the low voice of the radio. David automatically switched it on as soon as he walked into the kitchen of a morning, twiddling and fiddling if the reception was poor, turning it off he couldn't get his favoured BBC stations.

  Lin sniffed. He preferred the commercial radio stations specialising in trashy gossip and trashy music rather than the staid, last bastion of the establishment, tones of radios three and four, which he found faintly intimidating. The well-educated voices of the presenters made him feel somehow inferior, perhaps by reminding him of his own humbler socio-economic origins, an anomaly in a society that claimed to no longer adhere to such boundaries. It was rubbish of course. Society was still run by an elite. If there were true equality you'd hear presenters with regional accents presenting classical music programmes or leading a debate on radio four.

  Even 'The Archers' the radio four soap so beloved by David, a supposed tale of everyday farming folk, had more a twang of gentleman landowner than muck encrusted farmhand about it, to Lin's senses anyway. The actors could ‘ooh-arr’ as much as they liked, but they still sounded like Oxbridge graduates underneath it. To his mind the BBC still operated a system of jobs for the boys, even the beverage vending machine had probably been at school with the producer’s son.

  David had laughed when he said this, accusing him of inverted snobbery based in some imagined inferiority, which might or might not be true, depending on what mood Lin was in when the subject came up for discussion.

  Getting to his feet Lin braced his hands against the wall to perform a few token warm up stretches, sour thoughts giving his mind cerebral indigestion.

  Sometimes he suspected David of being a secret war baby, one that had had extensive plastic surgery to maintain a youthful façade, behind which lurked a well heeled man in late middle age with all the accoutrements of the state: multiple business interests, a love of the Financial Times, tea drinking, radio four and The Archers.
/>
  Though to be fair, Lin conceded a point, when they brought in gay characters he had taken more of an interest in the show, he as much as David being glued to the episode featuring the first gay radio kiss in British broadcasting history. Not that he approved of the use of sexual orientation to draw an audience. It didn’t denote true acceptance. It was cynical exploitation to up ratings and if anyone knew about exploitation and ratings he did.

  David had put on his paternal hat and wagging a stern finger at Lin told him he was always looking for something to be righteously angry about. He said it was his kind of attitude that kept people suspicious and hostile towards one another. Some progress on the same sex front was better than none. It represented a weakening of barriers and a step closer to a world where the only thing to matter when two people kissed was not the gender of those doing the kissing, but the fact two people were in love.

  The mini lecture didn't end there. It was hard to stop David when he was in full flow. He could lecture for Britain. He also said tolerance was a two way street, which everyone needed to learn to walk across, and some gay men and women viewed the straight community with as much contempt and intolerance as sectors of the straight community viewed them. They didn't want to be a part of it, but recognised as elite, something special and superior to it.

  Lin shot a haughty glance in the direction of the kitchen. Sometimes his man had far, far too much to say on any given subject. Hoisting up his shorts and straightening his top he strode down the hall. Stuff breakfast! He plucked his sunglasses off the mahogany sideboard and put them on. The Dominator couldn’t have everything his own way. It wasn’t good for him.