Junkyard Heart (Porthkennack Book 7)

by Garrett Leigh

  I got up, showered, and left the house with the last of the Jammie Dodgers stuffed in my pocket. My train was on time, and before I knew it, I was halfway to Bristol, leaving Kim far behind.

  The notion made my stomach churn and my heart skip a beat. We’d gone from a one-night hookup, to friends, and then friends that fucked, to being completely entwined with each other, and being without him, even for just two nights, felt all wrong.

  So wrong, that I was tempted to get off the train at Bodmin and head straight back home. But I didn’t. Beyond the fact that we both had work to do, I still hadn’t got around to telling Kim I was head over heels in love with him—if indeed such a thing was necessary—and so barging into the workshop a few hours after I was supposed to be gone for two days might seem a little extreme.

  I made it to Bristol and checked into my hotel. A text was waiting for me from Kim: Thinking of you—three simple words that eased the anxious gripe in my gut. I smiled and fired a message back: Thinking of you too . . . and missing you.

  Missing him didn’t come close to how I was feeling, but after waiting a moment for a reply I didn’t really expect, I pocketed the phone and got on with my day.

  The job was in the city, photographing the interior of Bristol Cathedral and taking some aerial footage of the outside with my Phantom 4. I did the drone work first, and the flights took most of the day, only stopping when the light got away from me.

  I packed up and headed back to the hotel, craving a hot shower, a beer, and a greasy burger. The shower in my room provided instant gratification, and a grumpy hotel porter appeared with my dinner a while later. I didn’t bother with the beer. Whatever Kim thought about it, being with him was actually good for my alcohol consumption, and I was feeling the benefits of drinking less already.

  My early start caught up with me fast, and I was dozing off when my phone rang sometime later.

  Blinking, I reached for it, half expecting it to be Dad or Laura panicking about something ridiculous to do with the barn opening. Kim’s throaty chuckle took me by surprise.

  “Did I wake you?”

  I sat up and squinted at the time: four minutes past midnight. Damn. It had been ten o’clock last time I’d checked. “A little. I don’t mind, though. I was hoping you’d call.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I’ve missed you today. I wish you were here with me.”

  “Me too, and if you’d gone a day later, I could’ve been.”

  The lightness in Kim’s tone was a clue, and it took me a moment to grasp what it meant. “You finished?”

  “Yup. Delivered the last dozen chairs an hour ago.”

  “Wow.” I couldn’t mask the awe in my voice. The last I knew, Kim had been twenty-five chairs short of the forty-chair order, with just a pile of driftwood to help him along. The scale of what he and his crew of guys had achieved in such a short time was incredible. “I’m so happy for you. How do you feel?”

  “Relieved. I didn’t think we were going to make it, and we wouldn’t have done except that your dad called me this morning and told me not to paint the last few chairs . . . to keep ’em natural with just a varnish. Saved me two days of fannying around.”

  “Thank God for my dad and his indecisiveness, eh?”

  “Indeed. Anyway, enough about me. How are you? How was your day?”

  “Long.” I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Drone flying is fun, but it’s hard work, you know? Got to make sure I don’t hit anything.”

  “Like a plane?”

  “Only if a plane was about to clip Bristol Cathedral, but yes . . . planes, birds, buildings. I’m fucking knackered.”

  “Yeah, you sound it. I’m gonna let you get back to sleep.”

  “Don’t go.”

  Kim chuckled softly. “I’m not going anywhere, mate. Get some shut-eye, yeah? And get through tomorrow. Then we can open that bloody barn and I can stop seeing it in my sleep.”

  Knowing that the sooner I slept, the sooner I’d be a day closer to seeing him again, I relented and whispered good night. Kim returned the sentiment, but his soft sigh kept me from hanging up the phone.

  “Kim? What is it?”

  “Nothing, really, I just need you to know that I’ve never felt this way about anyone else. You believe that, don’t you?”

  I closed my eyes and pictured him on the steps of his beautiful trailer, long legs stretched out in front of him, nursing a cup of lukewarm tea. “I do. Good night, Kim.”

  “Night, Jas.”

  The next day passed in a blur of hard-core photography. I finished the aerial footage in the morning and then set about the interior shots in the afternoon. I’d hoped to get it done by the evening, perhaps allowing me to head home early, but it wasn’t to be. Daylight faded too fast, leaving me stuck in Bristol for another night.

  I called Kim to moan about it, but he didn’t answer, and I didn’t call back. The bloke hadn’t had a night off in weeks and chances were he was fast asleep, catching up on the rest he’d so desperately needed. I sent him a text and then passed out myself.

  It wasn’t until the next morning when I woke to a blank phone that I realised I’d left my charger at home. Going out to buy one would cost me precious time, so I didn’t bother, but I headed straight for the cathedral to finish my work.

  I wrapped it up in two hours and dashed to the train station, jumping on the first train I saw heading south. It was barely ten o’clock, and the three-hour fast line left me plenty of time to make the four o’clock barn launch.

  Or so I’d thought. Animals on the tracks meant delays, and I got caught in traffic on my way back to Porthkennack. It was after five by the time I rushed up the driveway of Belly Acre Farm, and I’d missed the grand opening, though the party appeared to be in full swing.

  “There you are!” Laura grabbed my arm and propelled me into the barn. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  “Sorry, Ma. My train got stuck at Plymouth. How did it go?”

  “See for yourself,” Laura said. “I’ve got to get back to the kitchen.”

  She left me at the door. I grinned after her, pleased for her, proud of her, and indeed proud of everyone who’d been involved in a project that had seemed like it would never come to fruition.

  I stood to one side and surveyed the bustle of the packed barn: the families eating Laura’s cake and Gaz’s chutney with local cheese, the buzz of conversation, the hum of contentment, and the faint surge of gentle laughter that warmed the barn even more than the central fireplace. And of course, the bespoke artisan furniture that Kim had poured his heart and soul into. I wandered around, taking in everything from the mismatched driftwood chairs, to the beautiful tables he’d built from piles and piles of discarded pallets. Each piece was stunning, and none were the same. For the millionth time since I’d met him, I was utterly floored by his brilliance.

  I was on my second loop when I spotted the picture frames hung on the walls—rustic white imperfect squares that I instantly knew had been made with the smashed-up bookcase from my London flat. Eight of them in total, all filled with a timeline of Manning family photographs. The sight of my family made my heart fit to burst, and it was the first time in as long as I could remember that I felt something for a photo I hadn’t taken myself.

  A light came on in my soul, illuminating the giant space that Kim had carved out. All I needed now was the man himself, but there was no sign of him in the barn, not even with Brix and Calum, who were huddled up at the back, digging into a heaping plate of sweet ginger fairing cookies.

  “I haven’t seen him in days,” Brix said. “I thought he was with you.”

  “He was until Monday morning. I’ve been in Bristol since then.”

  Brix’s concern was sudden, and the excitement I’d arrived with died an abrupt death. I looked at Calum, hoping to see the measured calm I’d seen in him on the day we’d gathered the driftwood, but he already had his phone in his hand. “I’ll call around,” he sai
d. “Jas, go check he’s not with your dad. Don’t worry, if I find him, I won’t make it obvious you’re looking for him.”

  Kim getting the hump was the least of my concerns as I left Calum and Brix behind and made a loop of the farm, asking anyone and everyone if they’d seen Kim, but no one had.

  My dad trailed me out of the farmhouse, his flowered shirt billowing behind him. “What is it, son? Has something happened?”

  “I don’t know, Dad. I just expected him to be here.”

  “He did say he would be. Maybe he’s running late? Have you called him?”

  “My phone’s dead.”

  “Give it here. I’ll plug it in.”

  I left my phone with my dad and rushed back to Brix and Calum, who were at the barn door.

  “No one’s seen him,” Calum said, “but that doesn’t mean anything’s happened.”

  Brix looked less optimistic. I grabbed his arm. “What do you think? Are you worried?”

  “I’m always worried about Kim, mate. Even the good stuff sends him off the rails.”

  My heart dropped into my stomach as Kim’s ominous words about his past relapses flashed into my mind—“I guess I’m a bit depressed. It happens now and then, especially when something good happens in my life. Weird, eh?” He’d sounded happy the last time I’d heard his voice, free. Was it possible that the relief of finishing such a mammoth job had tipped him over the edge?

  By the obvious worry in Brix, I reckoned so. “I need to find him.”

  “He won’t be at home,” Brix said.

  “Where will he be?”

  “The cliffs,” Calum answered. “It’s where they all go when they can’t feel the sea.”

  The cryptic answer made perfect sense as I recalled the evening I’d spent with Kim huddled up in my car at Porthkennack’s highest point.

  I dashed away from Calum and Brix to my car, which I’d had to leave on the road leading up to the farm. Some twat in an Audi had blocked me in. I forced my way out and scraped the shit out of their fancy paintwork, then I hit the road, my heart still seeping from the soles of my feet. Much of Kim was still a mystery to me, but of one thing I was certain: something was wrong.

  I drove to the cliffs at breakneck speed, recklessly screaming around the bends in Porthkennack’s perilous roads. As I drove, it began to rain—really rain—and big fat drops obscured my vision, forcing me to slow down just in time for a wide truck to come at me from the opposite direction. At first I was all set to try and slip past him, unwilling to stop, even for a moment, but I came to my senses at the last second and skidded to a halt.

  The driver gave me the finger, and he was totally justified, but I paid him no heed and stamped on the accelerator, spraying gravel behind me as the car lurched forward. The cliffs were still a mile away, but I could see the ocean on the horizon, and it was dark and angry, its blue hue so deep it was almost black. And the sky was fast catching up with it.

  I’d spent most of my adult life chasing light, and today was no exception, but I’d never felt such desperation as I raced against the fading sun. Locals knew the cliffs like the backs of their hands, but I didn’t—I only knew the car park, the railings, and a couple of benches. If Kim had retreated to somewhere more secluded, I’d never find him in the dark.

  Panic seized me, and I drove faster, pushing the car’s one-litre engine and dubious power-steering to its limits. The tyres skidded and the brakes screeched, and the roar of the struggling exhaust kept me grounded, tying me to reality so I didn’t lose my mind—because my mind was my own, but my heart was Kim’s, and he needed me.

  The road to the cliff-top car park finally came into view. I took it as fast as I dared and threw myself in the first space I saw. Not that it mattered, the place was deserted—no cars, no people . . . no Kim.

  I scanned the area and my heart sank. Had I got it wrong? Was he at home? Or somewhere else? Perhaps he’d gone to Red . . . needing her more than he needed me after all. It wasn’t as though he’d made me any promises.

  The possibility that he’d simply left me was like a truck driving into my gut. The impact spread from my belly and into my veins, and the bad memories my time with Kim had erased came flooding back. I hadn’t loved my ex like I loved Kim, but the betrayal had broken me all the same. Did Kim have it in him to be so callous? My heart said not, but his absence left a void that only images of him and Lena together—without me—could fill.

  But as I stared out into the darkness, a scenario far worse than Kim leaving me for Lena crossed my mind. The absolute certainty that Kim needed me returned, and brought with it a boatload of panic. Brix’s concern had been too obvious to ignore, Calum’s too. And if they were worried, I was fucking terrified. Kim rarely talked about falling off the wagon, but he’d left no doubt that it had been brutal in the past—destructive and cruel. Oh God. What if—

  A flash ahead derailed my thoughts. Shit. The sky had darkened to the point where I could barely see my own hand in front of my face, but Kim often wore a biker jacket with a sliver of reflective fabric on the sleeve, a strip of pale gold that was now caught in the beam of my headlights.

  I jumped out of the car, leaving the engine running, and dashed across the car park, vaulting the low wooden fence. The rain fell like a monsoon around me, but I felt nothing, saw nothing, except the heartbreaking sight of Kim huddled on the bench, his eyes closed to the world.

  “Kim, Kim!” I reached him and dropped to my knees, taking his limp, cold hand. “Kim? Wake up, mate. Please?”

  There was no response, and for a terrifying moment, I honestly thought he was dead. But then he shifted slightly, like a baby in deep sleep, and his hand fell from mine.

  I grabbed it again and squeezed it, and then shook him hard, the way I’d seen paramedics do to the drunks on Oxford Street. “Kim, come on. You can’t stay here. You’ll freeze.”

  If he hadn’t already. I leaned over him, searching for another sign of life. I waited for the smell of booze to hit me—beer, wine, whiskey, I’d never asked him what his choice of poison was—but instead of alcohol, all I smelt was wood and rain.

  All I smelt was Kim.

  I put my hand to his cold cheek. “Kim.”

  My plea was whispered this time, but by some miracle seemed to penetrate where I’d failed so far. He groaned, and then his eyes fluttered open, bloodshot and unfocussed at first, until he saw me.

  “Jas?”

  “It’s me. Can you sit up?”

  Kim blinked, clearly lost. “What are you doing?”

  “Might ask you the same thing. It’s wetter than an otter’s pocket up here, and cold as fuck.”

  “Cold?”

  The confusion in his troubled gaze tore me in two. I took both his hands in mine and tugged him gently forward, causing his feet to hit the ground. “Kim, we’re up on the cliffs, mate.”

  “The cliffs?”

  “Yeah. You didn’t show for the barn opening. I was worried. Calum told me to look for you here.”

  “Calum.”

  It wasn’t a question this time, and slowly but surely, cognition returned to Kim’s usually keen green eyes.

  He ripped his hands from me and covered his face, groaning. “Fuck.”

  I rubbed his damp leg. “It’s okay. We can fix it. How much did you drink?”

  “Drink?” Kim revealed his face again. “I didn’t drink anything.”

  “No?” Stress sharpened my tone. “So why were you passed out on a bench in the rain?”

  “I—” Kim glanced around. “Shit. How long have I been here?”

  “I don’t know. Do you remember coming up here?”

  Kim nodded. “I came out for a walk.”

  “When you were drunk?”

  “I’m not fucking drunk, Jas!”

  His shout was sudden and loud, even with the vicious wind swirling around us. I flinched and shrank back. He caught my arm. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

  “Then tell me what happened, Kim. Please? I c
an’t help you if you don’t.”

  His only answer was a violent shiver, reminding me that we were both wet through and exposed to the elements—him more than me, and Christ knew how long he’d been out here.

  I coaxed him to his feet, steadying him as he wavered. “Come on. Let’s get warm.”

  He didn’t protest as I led him to my car, which, because I’d left the engine running, was thankfully still warm. I sat him in the passenger seat and slammed the door harder than I’d intended, helped along by the wind, then got in the driver’s side.

  Kim’s head was down, his eyes closed. I touched his arm, rousing him. “Okay?”

  He nodded slowly. “Where are we going?”

  “Home.”

  And by that, I meant my place, where I knew where every drop of booze was, and could easily dispose of it the moment we walked through the door.

  We made the journey in silence; me focussed on the road, Kim staring dazedly out of the window. If he was surprised to find himself at my flat a little while later, it didn’t show. I steered him inside and helped him out of his wet clothes. “Shower. Warm yourself up. Don’t lock the door, though, in case you fall.”

  “I’m not going to fall.”

  He drifted away before I could answer. I waited for him to slam the bathroom door, but he didn’t. He left it open and turned the shower on, and after a few minutes, I poked my head around the door to find him sitting in the bath, his face hidden in his knees.

  The sight of him broke me, and the frustration I’d felt since the car park melted away if, indeed, it had ever truly been there at all. Kim’s addiction was an illness, and I wouldn’t let him suffer alone.

  I joined him in the shower and turned the heat up to properly warm his bones. At first, he didn’t seem to notice me gently rubbing shampoo through his hair, even when I slid my fingers over his scalp to the base of his neck, kneading. It was a while before his quiet sigh broke the silence.