Veering off Course (The Navigation Quartet Book 1)

by Chris Cheek

  “Dad, David made a mistake six years ago,” Jennifer intervened. David shot her a grateful look. “Surely he can’t be expected to pay for that for the rest of his life?”

  Their father shook his head. The set of his jaw made it clear that he was not going to budge. The whole family knew that look: a granite-like obstinacy took over, after which he was unshakeable.

  He spoke again. “We love you as parents should, David, and we will carry on doing that. But we can’t welcome you into our home for as long as this goes on. You need to give up the London job, stop seeing Alan, and make it up with Mona for the sake of boys. For our sake too.”

  “And what about my sake, Dad?”

  “You made your bed six years ago, David. As far as I am concerned, it’s your duty now to lie on it, and to honour the promises you made.”

  “I can’t do that, Dad. I’m sorry. I know I’ve done wrong and I’m willing to work as hard as I can to atone for that. But I cannot live a complete lie. Even if Mona was prepared to forgive me, to allow me back into the house – which I very much doubt – going back from here wouldn’t be fair to her, to the boys or to me. In fact, it would quite possibly do more harm than good for the boys to grow up in such an atmosphere.”

  His father’s jaw remained immovable. “I’m sorry, David, I think you’re wrong. Children brought up in a stable household, with two parents, almost always do better.”

  “But number one, it would not be a stable household. And number two, it’s not the case where the parents don’t get on or actively dislike each other.”

  “But you do get on, and quite well too from what your mother and I have always seen.”

  “That was then, Dad, and this is now. You should have heard Mona’s language tonight. As I said, I don’t think she’d have me back even if I wanted to go.”

  “You can argue all you like, David, but my mind is made up. You are not welcome in this house while you’re in this state. I think you’d better leave.”

  Jennifer let out a gasp of horror. “Dad! You can’t mean it! Your own son. She threw him out!”

  Her father rose from his chair and prepared to leave the room. “I’ve nothing more to say. And I wish you’d stop your interfering, Jennifer.”

  He went out and they heard his tread on the stairs. This was the cue for their mother to break down. Her tears flowed as she tried to apologise to both of them at once and tell them to take no notice. Their dad would come round, she was sure. “I’ll go and put the kettle on,” she concluded, and fled for the kitchen.

  David stayed where he was for a few moments, struggling to come to terms with his father’s words, and – worse – the coldness of his manner. Jennifer looked at him. “Stay where you are, David. You can stay with Mark and me tonight. Let me see to Mum. I’ll only be a minute.”

  The sound of her voice awoke David from his reverie and he looked up at her. He shook his head. “Thanks, Jen, but I need to get away. Now. Tonight. I’ll be in touch soon.” He picked up his bag and went towards the front door.

  Jennifer shouted after him not to be stupid then rose to follow him, calling him back. She ran to the front door as he left through the gate. She shook her head and threw up her arms in despair as he set off down the road. She couldn’t catch him and her mother needed her. She turned back and went inside the house.

  David moved along the road at a brisk pace, still feeling the sting of his father’s rejection. Gradually he accelerated into a jog. All he was aware of was a need to get away from Yorkshire as soon as possible and to find sanctuary with Alan.

  With a flat battery in his phone, he was unable to contact anybody. His fury with his father might have propelled him out of the house and up to the end of his parents’ road, but what to do now? He glanced up the hill, the huge floodlit directional sign looming above him against the night sky. It acted as a reminder that he was almost next to the motorway junction. What if he could hitch a ride to London? It was too late for a bus or train but, if he was lucky, he could still be at Alan’s for the morning, to see him before he had to leave for his course. That would be the best thing ever.

  A distant alarm bell rang in the back of his mind about the risks of hitch-hiking, of being assaulted by some weirdo, but he shook his head to clear it. He’d be all right. After all that had happened to him tonight, surely nothing else would go wrong.

  As he headed towards the roundabout, he heard a car behind him. Purely on the off-chance, he stuck out his thumb in the time-honoured way. A car passed him and, to his utter astonishment, pulled up a few yards ahead of him. He jogged up to the passenger side and looked inside.

  “How far are you going, mate?” said a voice with a pronounced London accent.

  David did a quick assessment of the driver – mid-thirties probably, shirt sleeves and chinos. Looked okay, and the car was okay too, a modern Audi.

  “I was hoping to get to London.”

  “Well, it’s your lucky night. Hop in, mate.”

  Chapter 36

  Alan

  As the minutes ticked by and there was still no word from David, Alan grew increasingly worried. His fear was enhanced by his sense of powerlessness and dislocation. Whereas previous generations had lived with the limitations of the post, telegrams and landline telephones, life had now changed beyond recognition. Earlier constraints had been swept away, and instant communication was the new norm – whether by mobile, e-mail or text message. Delays in hearing from people or getting responses from them had therefore become that much more stressful.

  Time passed, but agonisingly slowly. He spent the minutes between looking at his phone to see if he had missed a call or a text, and worrying about the hypothetical situations his imagination was constantly creating. Adding to his frustration was the fact that there was nobody else he could contact. He had David’s home number but, since he had received that one brief text message, Alan knew that home was the one place David would not be. After a moment, he had an inspiration – Jennifer. He was sure that he had written down some contact information for David’s sister and her husband the other week, after David had come out to them.

  He went to his desk and scrabbled amongst his papers, eventually finding the note that he had made. There was a name – presumably Jen’s husband’s surname – and an address, but no landline or mobile numbers. Eventually, it struck him that, given a name and an address, he could at least get a landline number from directory enquiries.

  Five minutes later, he was dialling a Sedgethwaite number with trembling fingers, hoping against hope that he could find out what was going on. The ring tone sounded for an awfully long time, and Alan was about to give up when his call was answered.

  “Mark Hudson.”

  “Oh hi. Sorry to disturb you. My name is Alan Foreshaw and…”

  “You’re David’s boyfriend,” said the friendly voice at the other end. “How can I help, Alan?”

  That was a good start. He sounded really helpful.

  “Yeah, that’s right. I’m a bit worried about him, to be honest. I had a short text a while ago saying that his wife had thrown him out and he was headed for his parents’ house, but I haven’t heard a word since and I’m getting a bit frantic.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you much more, Alan. I know that Jen is with her mum and dad now, so if David’s headed there he’ll be in good company.”

  “Oh, I see. That’s comforting anyway. It’s just so hard being this far away, y’know?”

  “I can well understand. This is a difficult time for you all, I’m sure. I’ll make sure that Jen rings you when she gets in, or David if she brings him too. I’d better take your number.”

  They went through the formalities of exchanging contact information and ended the call. Alan felt a little better for knowing that somebody up there seemed to have David’s back. He could at least relax a little in the knowledge that he would hear from somebody soon.

  Suddenly, his phone pinged with a text. He reached for his mobile eage
rly, fumbling in his agitation, almost dropping it. Surely this would be news from David. He slumped with disappointment when he saw Simon’s name on the display.

  SIMON:>> There’s a lot of pacing about going on up there. You okay?

  ALAN:>> No. Come up and keep me company?

  SIMON:>> Sure – give us two minutes.

  Within two minutes, there was a tap on David’s front door. There stood Peter and Simon, bottle and glasses in hand, anxious looks on their faces.

  “We thought you might need relief supplies,” explained Simon with a grin. “Now tell us what the fuck is going on.”

  Alan told them the story as far as he knew it.

  “So, she threw him out after all,” was Simon’s response. “You know, the awful thing is that, seeing things from her point of view, I can hardly blame her.”

  This earned him a glare from Peter. “Simon, love, so not helping.”

  Simon blushed and took refuge in a sip of his wine. “Oh, sorry.”

  “It’s a discussion we need to have,” acknowledged Alan, “but probably not now. Anyway, the point is that he texted me and that was nearly two hours ago, when he was on the way to his parents. There’s been nothing since. I just wish he’d let me know.”

  “You know his parents, don’t you? How do you think they will have reacted?”

  “He’s the baby of the family so he’s always been loved, especially by his mum. Dad’s a bit austere and old-fashioned, and they’ll definitely hate all the rumours and gossip. The short answer is I don’t know. But I’m worried, especially by how David might react if anything went wrong.”

  “Christ,” said Simon, half to himself. “The poor love.”

  There was silence in the room; all three were lost briefly in their own memories of a coming-out experience. The sound of an incoming call on Alan’s mobile broke the silence, the ringtone jarring and making them all jump. Alan reached across and answered it.

  “Alan? Alan Foreshaw?”

  “Yeah, hi. Who’s calling?”

  “This is Jennifer. Jennifer Hudson, David’s sister?”

  “Er, hi, Jennifer. Thanks very much for calling. I’m very worried.”

  “Have you not heard from him? David, I mean. I know you told Mark that you hadn’t, but I thought I’d check.”

  “Why, Jennifer? What happened?”

  “They threw him out as well, Alan. God, it was so awful, and he looked absolutely terrible. He ran off. I tried to stop him, but…” Her voice became shakier as she uttered the words, trailing off into a sob.

  “Oh, Jen. Was it his dad?”

  There was silence at the other end for a moment as David’s sister gathered herself. When she spoke, her voice was steadier. “Yes, it was Dad. I was with them most of the day, keeping them company, reassuring them. Mum was upset at how it had happened, and cross with David for not telling them himself, but otherwise she was okay. Eventually I got her to see it from his point of view, and to accept the fact that he hadn’t actually made up his mind what he was going to do.”

  “True. He was very worried about the boys.”

  “Yes, exactly what I said. Any road, she understood in the end. But Dad was very quiet all day and I couldn’t get him to open up. He’s very…” she hesitated, looking for the right words “…stiff upper lip.”

  “Yeah, bottles it up. Doesn’t say much at all. He was always a bit like that when we were boys.”

  “As a result, I didn’t know what to expect when David arrived.”

  “How was he?” interrupted Alan, anxiety making his voice sharper than he’d intended.

  “A bit subdued but he seemed okay, especially after we got him to go upstairs and have a wash.” She paused, letting out a long unsteady breath that was not quite a sigh. “Anyway, we sat down to talk. Mum was fine but Dad started on about giving in to ‘urges’, as he called them. Said he understood people got them, but they didn’t have to act on them.”

  “Oh, God. Then what?”

  “Basically, he told David that he’d made promises to Mona six years ago and he ought to keep them. And that he wouldn’t be welcome in the house until he did.”

  “Christ, Jen. How did David take it?”

  “He argued back at first, said that he didn’t choose to be how he was … gay or bi or whatever. But now he had to face up to it.”

  “And?”

  David could almost hear the resigned shrug that Jen gave as she replied. “Dad said that David had had a choice six years ago. He’d made his bed and now he must lie on it.” Her voice had taken on a flat tone as she said those words, but it quickly broke again. “God, Alan, I’ll never forget the look on David’s face when he said that. He looked so wrecked.”

  “I’m not surprised, poor devil. What happened next?”

  Jen’s voice resumed its flat tone as she replied. “Dad told him to go and stomped off upstairs. Mum dissolved into floods of tears and David got up and left. Alan, it was awful. I can’t ever remember a night like it in our family.”

  Alan was relentless. Stuff sympathy, he had to know. “What then, Jen? What happened to Davy?”

  “I asked him to wait, to come back with me to our house. I had to give Mum a few minutes, but he wouldn’t. Wait, I mean. He ran out of the front door – I tried to stop him, but he was off down the road. I thought he’d be all right, that he’d ring you.” Her voice wavered again.

  “Bloody hell, Jen. I’m sorry you had to cope with all that. I should have been around to help.”

  “I don’t know that there was much you could have done, Alan love.”

  “I could have been there for him.”

  Jennifer’s practical side took over as she responded. “That’s as may be, but it doesn’t make any difference now, does it?”

  “S’pose not. It’s just … I feel so powerless.”

  “I understand that, Alan. But what do we do now?”

  “Call the police? Ring the hospitals? I don’t know.”

  “Too soon to call the police, I think. Mark’s here and we could ring the hospitals. Let’s do that first.” She sounded almost relieved at being able to take some practical steps. “I’ll let you know how we get on,” she said abruptly and rang off.

  Peter occupied himself in pouring them more wine. Simon looked at Alan open-mouthed. “I heard virtually all that. Poor devil, I wonder how he must be feeling.”

  “I know, Si. I’m getting terrified now. He’s not responding to texts or calls, and we don’t know where he is. Shit.”

  Simon nodded. “I know, love. But I think he’ll be okay. Underneath it all I think he’s quite strong. He’s always struck me as a level-headed sort of guy. Not one to do anything rash.”

  “I’d agree with you normally. But today he’s been outed at work, thrown out of his home and rejected by his parents. Not exactly a formula for level-headedness, is it?”

  Simon gave a small giggle despite himself. “No, when you put it like that…”

  “Trouble is, I don’t even know how or where to start looking for him.”

  Chapter 37

  David

  The car was warm and comfortable. The driver, who introduced himself as Gavin, was a freelance photographer returning home after an assignment in Leeds. He explained that he hated hotels with a passion and preferred late-night driving when the roads were quieter.

  David talked of his job and his kids, managing to hold up one end of a somewhat desultory conversation despite while feeling completely wrecked physically and emotionally. It occurred to him that talking about other subjects was quite a good way of distracting himself; it helped him avoid the need to think further about the events of the evening. He was fully aware that he would have to do so at some point, but was grateful to be able to postpone it, at least for a while.

  Eventually, fatigue overtook him and David fell asleep in mid-sentence. Gavin, who had found him an engaging companion, shrugged, turned the music up slightly and remained silent.

  When David awoke,
an hour had passed and he was aware that the signs had changed. Instead of South Yorkshire destinations like Rotherham and Sheffield, the signs were pointing towards the Midlands towns, Derby and Nottingham then Leicester and Birmingham.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Not very good company, am I?”

  Gavin laughed gently. “Don’t worry, mate. You must have needed it.”

  They passed a sign for a service area. “I need a pee,” said Gavin. “Fancy a coffee?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  As they pulled in, David recognised Leicester Forest East, the usual venue for comfort breaks on his coach journeys.

  Hot drinks in hand, they sat opposite one another in the coffee shop. David had his first sight of Gavin in normal light and saw a pair of friendly brown eyes looking at him from a square face topped with short-cropped brown hair. At that moment, the eyes were full of concern.

  “Crikey, mate, you do look wrecked. No wonder you fell asleep. Are you okay?”

  David gave a half-smile. “Not really – but getting better the further I get from Yorkshire.”

  “I’m sorry to pry, but you remind me of Ben at the end of term.”

  “Ben?” queried David.

  “Sorry. My boyfriend. He’s a special-needs teacher in London. He’s absolutely wrecked at the end of every term – literally grey with fatigue. You looked just like that a minute ago.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  “Yeah, I’m gay.” Gavin narrowed his eyes. “That bother you?” he asked with a slight edge to his tone.

  “No, no. God no. Sorry, I hadn’t thought, that’s all. You didn’t seem…”

  “The type? Is there a type, do you think?” Again, there was a slight edge to his voice.

  “Again, no. Christ, I am making a mess of this, aren’t I? Sorry. Let’s wind back a bit. The main point is: me too.”