Red Sky by Morning
Page 7
Lin rose to his feet at once. He did not want to be on the receiving end of another over the knee lecture.
Despite Henry's predictions there was no sign of rain or cooler air as they walked up the steep path leading to the majestic cliffs above the village. If anything the heat lay even heavier upon the land, draping like a thick woollen blanket around their shoulders as they climbed, making them perspire and long to be able to cast it off.
It was a relief to finally sink down onto the crisp sun dried grass and gaze out across the sea, breathing in the salt air, watching the gulls loop and dive in the pale blue scattering.
Silence reigned between them. Lin stretched out on his front, picking at the faded grass trying not to dwell on how much his bum was aching. David sat cross-legged beside him. He slid a hand under Lin’s t-shirt to rest against the warm, sweat-moist skin of his back.
The birds retired to roost as the sun began a slow descent into the ocean, a giant peach ripening from soft gold to dramatic amaranthine, melting across the rippling waves until it disappeared altogether, leaving the moon free to rise from its ashes.
The scene transmuted into tones of blue and silver offset by the inky blackness of the great cliffs, which had stood sentinel for thousands of years. The sea sent soft waves to whisper messages at their feet. It was beautiful, awe inspiring and yet tranquil.
For the first time in days, Lin relaxed, permitting peace to penetrate him, harmonising mind and body, so he was once again clear about what really mattered to him. He turned to look at David, who was now stretched out on his back. He had one leg bent up, his hands clasped behind his head, as he gazed at the sky watching the stars reveal themselves. “I’m sorry, David.”
“Sorry for what?”
“For getting hysterical about the chapel being sold, for whining and complaining non-stop for days, and for only giving attention to what I want and never giving a second thought to what you might want.”
“There’s no mystery about what I want.” David turned on his side, reaching out a hand to caress Lin's face. “You, our relationship. It's all that’s important to me. I’ll protect it, protect us and our way of life anyway I can.”
“Whether I like it or not.” Lin touched a hand to the one stroking his face, holding it in place.
David gave a small laugh. “I love the way you understand me. Yes, whether you like it or not. You can squall and fuss all you like, it won't make any difference.”
"I don't mean to be difficult all the time. I just want to be someone, David, the best, someone you can be proud of."
"You are someone, love, you're you. If you insist on being labelled then you're the kid who started out as a washer upper and progressed to being one of the most talented and successful chefs in the country and you did it by sheer hard graft and determination."
"I fucked it all up in the end though. I always knew I would. I mess everything up."
"That's enough negativity, Lin." David's voice sharpened and then grew soft again. "You didn't fuck anything up, not a thing. You got ill and needed a change of direction and pace. You're a wonderful cook and writer, and no one can ever take those skills away from you. You don't have to keep trying to prove yourself, least of all to me. I'm immensely proud of you."
"Thank you, David. I'm proud of you too. You've given me more than I ever dreamed of and I love you, brutish bossy man though you are."
"You need a brutish bossy man to keep you in line and keep you safe. Come here, my bonny boy, give me a kiss." David reached for Lin, pulling him into his arms, kissing him with passion.
Their growing ardour was cooled by the sudden arrival of the rain foretold by their neighbour’s climatically attuned bees. Lin broke the kiss with a sigh of regret as light raindrops pattered around them. “I suppose we ought to make our way home.”
“I’ve got a better idea.” David made no effort to move. “Let’s stay here and continue what we were doing and get wonderfully wet.”
“What a pleasant thou…”
“Now then, Mr Jordan, Mr Larkin.”
They both froze as George Crooks dulcet tones sliced through the night air. “This rain will bring better fishing. Will I be seeing you down at the harbour again soon?”
David responded, trying to sound as if it was perfectly normal to be reclining on a dark cliff top in the rain. “I reckon you will, George, at some point. You’re out late this evening.”
“Aye, been at a cards night ower Brunswick way.”
“Any luck?”
“Bugger all,” said George gloomily. “It’s why I’m having to walk ‘ome. Goodnight then.”
“Goodnight, George. Take care.” David gave a sigh of relief as George moved off into the darkness and Lin eased his vice-like grip on his body.
“Has he gone?”
“Yes, now where were we before…”
“Eyup, Mr Jordan, Mr Larkin.”
David winced as Lin’s arms tightened around him again.
Seth Crooks voice echoed through the rain. “Nice evening for it. I just might have a few lobsters to offer you in the morning. I know you’re partial. Shall I call on by?”
“That would be wonderful, Seth, thank you. No luck on the cards I take it?”
“Ah’m telling you, Mr Jordan. I hope the bloody lobsters are more obliging about filling my pots, than luck has been about letting me win a pot tonight. Be seeing you.” He followed his cousin into the darkness.
“What did he mean,” whispered Lin, “nice evening for it? Nice evening for what? What does he think we’re doing? It'll be all over Stanes by tomorrow that yon queer fellas were making out in the rain.”
“Making out, what a sweet expression,” murmured David. He kissed Lin on the lips, unperturbed by the interruptions, and the raindrops, which were gathering pace and falling with determination, drenching them. “I believe everyone should make out in the rain at least once in their lifetime.”
“Don’t mind me, Mr Jordan, Mr Larkin.” Jeff’s voice boomed a damp baritone.
“Don’t tell me, Jeff,” a weary note crept into David’s voice, “you’ve had no luck with the cards tonight either?”
“Cards?” Jeff sounded puzzled. “I know nowt about cards. I’m giving Florrie a last run.” He whistled, getting a bark in return. “Come on, Florrie, good girl.” He crunched through the grass, calling over his shoulder, “this rain will be right grand for the gardens. The plants on my allotment are gagging.”
There was a brief silence after the sound of man and dog had faded away, then a plaintive, “David, can we please go home now, before Henry Medup and his bees arrive to give us an update on the weather? I'll put the shower on a cool sprinkle, throw a few clumps of grass around and we can make out in there. If you close your eyes you won’t know the difference.”
“You’ve sold me. Shower it is.” David stood up hauling Lin with him. “Want a hog up, a piggy back?”
“Piggy back as in a carry down the hill, or as in chapter three of 'Confessions of a Pig Bottom Skinhead'?”
“Forget the carry down the hill.” David slipped an arm around Lin’s shoulders, hugged him and then held out his hand. “If memory serves me right I’ll need to reserve all my strength for re-enacting that scene, especially if you want me to take on the roles of both Tops. I'll use classier dialogue though.”
“If it’s too lowbrow and strenuous for you,” Lin slipped his hand into David's feeling a swell of happiness as they began the walk homewards in the cooling rain. “We could always go upmarket and re-enact a scene from a Jane Austen novel.”
“What, like taking tea and making polite and witty conversation later to be construed as social commentary on the place of women in a male dominated society?”
“We could improvise, bring Janey into the twenty-first century and sex things up a bit by daringly exposing our ankles while listening to the Shipping Forecast on Radio Four. I reckon hearing the words Cromarty, Dogger, Fisher, German, Bight, spoken in BBC tones, would have driven
Mr Darcy to ravish Miss Bennet over the cucumber sandwiches. I’ll expect no less from you," said Lin, swinging David's hand as they walked along. "And seeing as the chances of us eating them are slim, I’ll even let you make the sandwiches.”
David was still laughing when they reached Sandstones.
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Other stories in the Postcards Series
Fresh From The Sea
Storm In A Teacup
Puzzled by certain words?
Glossary of dialect words:
http://www.fabianblackromance.com/glossary.php