Veering off Course (The Navigation Quartet Book 1)

by Chris Cheek

  Alan sighed. He’d been looking forward so much to introducing David to Tris and Ian. Now, when – if – David did eventually arrive, he’d be completely knackered and stressed to hell. He paused for a moment, fingers poised over the keys, trying to decide what to do. Having assessed the options, he texted back to David.

  Alan>>: Will take your party frock with me to Tris’s. Grab a cab from the coach park and come straight there.

  Around twenty minutes later, David gave a quick reply.

  David:>> Smart thinking, Al. Wilco. Whoops, traffic moving again. CU L8R.

  Alan frowned at this, but eventually translated the last bit into “see you later”. He certainly hoped so. He needed his fix of Davy to get through the week.

  He glanced at his watch and realised that he ought to get ready. He packed a bag for David, taking his outfit, overnight things and clean stuff for tomorrow’s return northwards. Then he went into the shower and got himself ready.

  With no David to wait for, he decided to head over to Tris’s place in Kensington early to see if he could help. It turned out to be a wise move; the preparations were in some chaos when he arrived. The caterers had arrived late and were still setting up, and the musicians had not yet shown up at all. As a result, the house looked as if a bomb had dropped on it rather than the beautifully organised space it was supposed to be.

  Ian gave Alan the job of taking Tris out into the garden and calming him down. “I’m sure it’ll be all right by the time people arrive but at this moment it’s best if he doesn’t see what’s going on or try to interfere,” he said. “You’ve always been able to calm him down – the Tris Whisperer,” he added with a grin.

  Alan endured Tris’s wails of frustration at the sheer incompetence of people, who, he said, were totally incapable of carrying out the simplest of instructions. And as for turning up on time, well… And so on, while they paced up and down in the garden.

  Suddenly they heard a high-pitched feedback noise from the drawing room, followed by a burst of musical notes on a guitar; it was clear that the musicians had arrived. Tris’s stress levels came down a couple of notches. A few moments later, a waiter emerged into the garden carrying a tray of filled champagne glasses. Tris breathed a sigh of relief. All would be well.

  Then he started to panic again. “Hey, I’ve just realised, you came on your own, Alan. Where’s David?”

  Alan grimaced. “Stuck in a traffic jam near Leicester, I think. Six car pile-up and two dead, according to the web.”

  “Christ, Alan. Will he get here at all, do you think?”

  Alan nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t know what time. I brought his clothes over so that he can come straight here and change.”

  “Great idea, man. Did Ian sort you out a room? You might as well stay here tonight. David can go straight from here in the morning.”

  “Thanks, that would be great. Can I borrow a toothbrush?”

  “The spare ones are still in the cupboard, old thing. Just like they used to be.” Tris fixed him with a look. “Don’t be a stranger, Alan.”

  “No, I shan’t be, Tris. But this is home for you and Ian now, not me. I mustn’t assume.”

  “Nonsense!” Tris barked. “Still yours as well, whenever you need it.” He suddenly looked wistful. “I do miss you sometimes, even now. I love Ian madly but it’s not comfy, like you and me.”

  Alan laughed but was touched by the remark nonetheless. “Hmm. That’s how you think of me now, is it? Like a comfy pair of old bedroom slippers?”

  Tris laughed too. “No, silly. Like a teddy bear, always there for a hug.”

  Alan found himself wrapped in Tris’s arms, being hugged whether he liked it or not. He did, but wasn’t about to admit it. Tris was Ian’s now and he, Alan, had Davy. So everything would be all right, wouldn’t it? His train of thought was interrupted by a loud cough. He looked up to see Ian grinning at him.

  Ian winked and said to Tris, “Everybody’s finished setting up. Want to check everything over?”

  Tris lifted his head and blinked. “Oh, great, thanks, luvvie. You stay and cuddle my teddy bear for a minute, will you? He’s all on his own tonight.”

  Tris disappeared towards the house. Ian beamed at Alan and replaced Tris in Alan’s embrace. “Thanks, mate. You did a beautiful job of calming him down.”

  “My pleasure. He wants tonight to be right, you know? Especially for you.”

  “I know. He doesn’t seem to realise that nothing matters, provided I’ve got him. Now tell me about David. What’s happened?”

  Alan explained the delay and updated Ian on how matters stood with Davy. They stood and sipped champagne, waiting for Tris to emerge and declare everything to be ready.

  After a few moments, he emerged from the kitchen door, wreathed in smiles. “All done,” he announced. “Looking great.” He let out another laugh. “Now all we need to make this party go with a swing is a sexy coach driver. Do you know of anybody, Alan?”

  Alan was about to answer when his phone buzzed with a text. David had arrived at Marble Arch. He’d be about another hour, but at least he was safely in London.

  Chapter 27

  David

  It was almost nine o’clock when David dropped his passengers at Victoria and headed over to the coach park. He was four hours late.

  He dialled Alan’s number, who picked up immediately. Trouble was that David could hardly hear is voice for the music in the background. In the end, he managed to make out the words ‘I’ll text you’ and ‘I love you’. Despite his tiredness and frustration, the words made him feel warm inside.

  The text reminded him to get a cab straight to the house, where he could change because Alan had taken his clothes with him. Tris’s address was at the end of the message. The idea of hailing a London taxi was utterly strange. David had only used a cab on two occasions – and neither of them had been in London. He knew it was daft, but the idea made him stupidly nervous.

  He headed for the main road near the coach park and saw several vehicles with their orange lights shining, indicating that they were for hire. The first two he hailed missed his tentative wave completely but when the third hove into sight he was more determined. This one stopped, prompting David to shut his eyes and swallow hard before managing to give the address to the driver. However, his voice was so tentative that the driver had to ask him to repeat it. David cleared his throat, managed to make his destination audible and clambered into the back seat. As he buckled his seat belt, he let out a sigh of relief and mopped his brow.

  He was actually a paying passenger in a black London cab for the first time ever. Just like all those people on the telly. How exciting was that?

  It was a typical July night in London – still warm after a day of hot sunshine and quite humid. Not a breath of air stirred the trees and there was a special quality to the sounds of the city, a slight echo that carried sound further in the thin air.

  David enjoyed the breeze from the open windows as the cab crossed the Thames. They passed the museums of South Kensington and headed into the streets to the south of the Hyde Park. Rows of elegant stuccoed Victorian houses stretched in terraces on the streets they crossed at right angles. Eventually they turned left into one of them. David recognised the name from Alan’s text and realised that they were nearly there. This street did not follow the grid pattern of the others, though, and bent round to the left. The cab entered a cul-de-sac and came to a halt at the end of the street.

  Opposite stood a beautiful, early-nineteenth-century building with three floors. It was semi-detached house, flat-fronted. On the right-hand side, the building had a small tower, below which stood a black front door, partially open. The roof of the front porch formed a balcony, accessed from French doors in one of the first-floor reception rooms. Guests spilled out onto the balcony. The other windows were fully open. The air was full of laughter, underpinned by the buzz of conversation.

  There was no mistaking the fact that there was a party in full swing; Davi
d could hear the beat of loud rock music from deeper in the house. At first he made no move to get out of the cab, spellbound by what he was looking at.

  “There you are then, old son.” The cab driver’s voice stirred him from his reverie. “Number 48 is right over there, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Oh, thanks. Sorry. I’ve not been before – it’s much grander than I expected.”

  “You go and enjoy yourself, mate,” said the cabbie with a grin. “Looks like a posh do.”

  “Thanks,” David responded with a nervous grimace as he handed over the money for his fare. “Looks a bit too posh for the likes of me, though. We’ll see.”

  The cab drew away, leaving David on the pavement opposite the house, awe-struck. Alan’s building had seemed imposing enough, but this was like a small palace. He was rooted to the spot, unable to move. All those people, all elegantly dressed, whereas he was still in his crumpled and hardly fashionable coach driver’s uniform. He only knew three of the guests at maximum – and even two of those were way out of his league. Come to think of it, Alan was hardly in his division these days…

  If Simon and Peter were out of his league, this lot weren’t even playing the same sport. He had to leave, to get away. He did not belong here, amongst these people. He turned to walk back up the street, but at that moment the front door opened wider and a figure came down the steps. Before David could move, an elegantly dressed young man crossed the road and approached him, addressing him by name.

  “David? David Edgeley?”

  “Aye, that’s me.”

  “I thought it must be. Alan said you were on the way and then I caught sight of the cab pulling up. I’m Tristram Baxter – Tris. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  Before he could move or utter a word, David found himself wrapped in a strong embrace. He was still not used to all this hugging and responded stiffly at first. Gradually the warmth of the greeting relaxed him.

  “Welcome to the chaos,” Tris said warmly. “Though I gather you’ve had some of your own tonight.”

  “Thanks. Yeah, just a bit,” David replied. “Four hours stuck on the M1 – what a way to spend a Saturday night, eh?”

  “Come away in, and let’s get you showered and changed. Alan’s got everything beautifully organised.”

  David followed Tris into the house. The hall seemed impossibly large, and there was a grand staircase leading up via a half-landing to the first floor.

  At the top stood Alan with a big grin on his face. “You made it then, our Davy?” he called in his broadest Yorkshire accent.

  “Aye, happen I did, lad.” Relieved to see him, David grinned back and played up to the joke. “Happen I did. But I’m a bit jiggered.”

  “Well, get thissen oop these stairs, and we’ll get thee fettled nicely.”

  Immediately Alan’s presence made David’s surroundings feel less alien.

  Tris put an arm round his shoulder and gave him a squeeze. “Go on, old chap. You can relax now. No pressure. We’ll see you in a while.”

  ***

  Showered, changed and thoroughly kissed, David found himself at Alan’s side in the thick of the party half an hour later. It had been a supreme act of self-discipline that the thorough kissing had not escalated into anything else, but the formal toasts for Tris and Ian’s celebration were expected shortly and could on no account be missed – especially as Alan was scheduled to propose one of them.

  Their first destination was the buffet. David was ravenous, having not eaten since lunchtime. The spread that greeted them looked spectacular and featured a bafflingly huge range of dishes. The sight only served to bring back with a vengeance his insecurity and sense of not belonging. He had no idea what most of the dishes laid out in front of him contained and couldn’t decide what to have.

  Fortunately there was a waiter there to assist, offering to add items to his plate, and naming them as they moved along. But even the waiter used words David had never heard before. Being a decidedly unadventurous eater, despite Mona’s occasional attempts to tempt him with “foreign” food, David wasn’t familiar with words like samosa, avocado and asparagus. Taramasalata and hummus were also mentioned but he waved them away, repulsed by their colour and texture. When offered salad, the iceberg lettuce he was used to in his burgers was replaced by leaves in funny colours and odd shapes. The waiter gave them confusing names like frisee, lollo rosso and rocket. Why would somebody offer him a firework in his food? And what did oeufs mayonnaise mean? Was it the same as hard boiled eggs with salad cream, like his mum used to make? It certainly looked a bit like that.

  In the end he played safe and selected some cold meat and pink stuff, which the waiter said was salmon mousse. David had always thought that mousse came in little plastic pots from the supermarket and was flavoured with strawberry or chocolate. Finally the waiter, who was rather nice looking and seemed to have taken a bit of a shine, persuaded him to taste a little of it and bloody good it was too. That beat the tinned red stuff.

  David passed on the salad, unsure whether he would like it or the oily stuff that it seemed to have been dipped in, and took a bread roll. The next trick was to eat the bloody stuff whilst also balancing a glass. Fortunately he and Alan found a table and managed to consume their meal in a fairly normal fashion.

  As they finished eating, Tris appeared and dragged Alan off to do his bit with the toasts. David followed Alan from the table towards the main room but hung back near the doorway, keen to observe rather than participate, to watch what everybody else did. A passing waiter gave him another glass of wine so he was equipped for the toasts. At least he knew how that bit worked.

  He leant on the door jamb, glad to take some rest after what had seemed to be an endless journey. As he did so, he saw Simon and Peter and waved. They came over and joined him, greeting him like long-lost pals. That gave David a warm glow and made him feel marginally less ill at ease.

  They stood together as the other guests assembled for the speeches. Peter was taller than David, so he masked his presence. David could not be seen by another couple who were standing nearby. But he could hear them.

  “Alan Foreshaw’s new squeeze looks quite hot.”

  David felt himself blushing.

  “Oh, you mean his bit of rough?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My dear, didn’t you know? He’s a coach driver, darling! All the way from gloomy Yorkshire, with all those moody moors! And think of those butch rubber tyres and enormous gear sticks.”

  “You’re kidding. What on earth can Alan see in him?”

  “Oh God knows, darling, but I can hazard a guess.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Think about it, love. Coach drivers – not the sharpest knives in the drawer, usually. And you know what they say.”

  “No, what?”

  “Well, the thicker they are, the thicker they are, if you get my drift.”

  David blushed even more deeply and felt tears sting his eyes. Suddenly, he felt a hand in the small of his back. He glanced up and saw it was Simon. “Take no notice, hon,” he whispered. “Poisonous queens.” In a louder voice, he said, ‘So, David, how was Yorkshire when you left this morning? Was the air a bit thick?”

  “No actually, it were decidedly thin.” David caught on and exaggerated his accent again. “It were reet chilly as I made way to t’depot. I were jiggered by t’time I got there. Mind you, I’m quite thick, so I nearly didn’t make it.”

  Startled, the two commentators turned quickly. David and Simon stared levelly at them until they turned and hurriedly left the room.

  “Serves them bloody right,” Simon remarked. “Snobbish bitches. I hope that spoiled their evening and they die of shame.” He giggled. “It certainly made mine. Toxic little tramps.”

  David laughed. He already loved Simon for his kindness on the two previous occasions they’d met. After this intervention, he was enslaved for life. But it didn’t entirely remove the sting of the remarks, mainly bec
ause he felt deep down that the men were probably right. He was a bit rough and pretty thick – and certainly did not belong in circles like this.

  He was only just coping with his tiredness, the stress of the whole evening from the taxi ride to the buffet, and now the bitchy but accurate remarks of Tris’s guests. They had combined to ruin his mood and he had a strong desire to get out – firstly into the fresh air, and secondly away from this house, Kensington, and everything it stood for.

  He left Simon’s side and headed towards the front door but his progress was impeded by groups of guests waiting for the toasts. The sight of Alan brought him to a halt. He was standing next to Ian and Tris on the half-landing, about to speak. Whatever else happened, David realised that he would have to stay for this.

  Alan looking so smart and handsome that David’s anger and disappointment melted away. Tonight might have been stressful, nerve-wracking and hurtful, but it was still worth it because of this one man, his boyhood friend and now his lover. Again he experienced a warm glow inside, realising once again that Alan was his life from now on. No amount of fear of his lifestyle, or anger with his friends and acquaintances, would change that.

  Chapter 28

  Alan

  Alan stood next to Tris and Ian on the half-landing, shaking like a leaf. He’d spoken publicly many times at client presentations and conferences but he’d never done this sort of thing before, and for some reason he was petrified.

  The audience had assembled in the large hall below and there was a buzz of anticipation. As Alan looked around and checked that everybody was ready, he sought a glimpse of David in the crowd. David seemed to be making for the front door, prompting Alan to frown and wonder what was going on.