Companion Required

by Brian Lancaster

  “You know Richmond and Mike,” said Patrick, indicating the henchmen dwarfing him, then turned to the nice-looking guy a few years younger than Kieran. Something in his discomfort told Kieran he’d also been an unwitting bystander in the decision to invade the party. “This is Joey. He’s accompanying me this year.”

  “And this is Kieran, my plus one,” said Kennedy. “Everyone else here you know. Come in and make yourselves at home.”

  Kieran’s twinge of pleasure at the label ‘plus one’ was short-lived. On their way in, only Joey made an effort to smile and shake hands with him. The other three ignored him, and one of them actually brushed into him without a word of apology. Kennedy escorted the four new guests over to the bar, leaving Kieran standing alone. He looked around for Steph and Laurie, but they were nowhere to be seen.

  Finally, Pete came to his rescue and dragged him over to where his rosy-cheeked father was sipping on a large glass of wine. Considering they were father and son, they could not have looked more different—chubby Pete with his wild chestnut hair exploding from his pear-shaped head, and Eric, carefully groomed with a full head of straight white hair and matching handlebar moustache. The perfect double act.

  “Don’t worry, Kieran. None of this has anything to do with you. I asked Patrick if he wanted to join us this year, wanted me to book him a cabin, and he categorically declined, after what happened last year. As did Richmond and Mike, which was no biggie. They’re like the Three Musketeers, joined at the codpiece. And now they even have a fourth, their very own d’Artagnan, the young, handsome hero. Although I’ve no idea who he’s supposed to be here with.”

  “Patrick. Accompanying him.”

  “Whatever that means. You know, even after they split, both Kennedy and Patrick used to come on the cruises—separately, of course. Until last year. Did Kennedy tell you what happened?”

  “No, he didn’t mention anything.”

  “So, a word of warning. Don’t get sucked into being sweet-talked by Richmond and Mike—I call them Rich and Poor, by the way, because Mike’s last name is Porter—unless you want Kennedy to throw a wobbly. Last year, they had a three-way with Kennedy’s then boyfriend, Ewan. Caused one hell of a stink, I can tell you. Honestly, I still believe Patrick put them up to it, to get back at Kennedy. So, you know, just watch yourself around them.”

  “Trust me, Pete, that’s not going to be a problem.”

  “Yeah,” said Pete, assessing Kieran. “I believe you. Can’t quite make you out yet. You are not like the usual vacuous twink he brings along. Is our man over there finally growing up and moving on?”

  When he followed Pete’s gaze, to where Kennedy stood at the bar, Kieran’s heart wrenched a little to observe Kennedy’s discomfort, even though he appeared to be putting on a brave face. Leonard must have sensed the tension too, because he immediately stepped in to join Kennedy in support. At almost the same time, they noticed Steph and Laurie descending the staircase from the bedroom mezzanine level. They’d clearly been having a sneak peek around the cabin. Steph’s face was a picture when she noticed the group at the bar. Frozen mid-staircase, with Laurie almost bumping into her back, her mouth dropped open. Looking over at Pete, she mouthed the words ‘what the fuck’, which even had Kieran grinning. But troopers to the last, they descended and went straight over to the new guests, liberally providing theatrical hellos, hugs and kisses.

  “Why doesn’t Leonard bring anyone on these cruises?” Kieran asked Pete, absently. When Leonard laughed, his eyes sparkled and the goatee revealed deep dimples in his cheeks.

  “Good-looking bloke, isn’t he?”

  “Had he been here, my friend Cole would have been all over him.”

  “How old is he? Your friend?”

  “In his early twenties, I think, but very good-looking.”

  “Not Leonard’s type, dear. Leonard’s into Daddies.”

  “He’s—what?”

  “Yes, I know. The man’s forty-four. But his late partner was twenty years older. Passed away years ago. We all just assumed it was one of those things—they met young, connected, stayed together. Until the first time I brought Dad along on the cruise four years ago, and Leonard tried to jump his bones.”

  “No!” said Kieran, stifling a laugh.

  “Flattered,” slurred Eric. “But I’m afraid I’m a bouncy boobies ladies’ man.”

  “Christ, Dad!” chastised Pete. “Gross, or what?”

  After Pete offered to refill his drink, Kieran made a point of circumventing Patrick and his minders, and escaped to the safety of the outside balcony. Only then, as he stood there, did he sense the motion of the ship, and realise the vessel had left the port and was heading out to the open seas. After ten minutes standing at the sea rail, he sensed someone come and join him, and turned to see Joey standing there. More than likely, he too wanted to get away from the tension in the room. After nodding a welcome, they swapped stories about each other. Interestingly, they both lived south of the Thames river in different towns in London. Joey worked for the NHS, doing his foundation training on the way to becoming a doctor. Kieran found him entirely genuine and explained candidly about his own work-study situation before asking how Joey knew Patrick.

  “We met a couple of months back, at a bar round the back of Charing Cross. This holiday is totally last-minute. Richmond and Mike booked a two-bedroom suite and friends of theirs dropped out. Sorry about coming along today, but they insisted. How long have you known Kennedy?”

  “About the same time.”

  “He seems okay. But from the way Richmond describes him, you’d think he was a mass murderer.”

  Interesting, thought Kieran. Richmond, not Patrick, is bad-mouthing Kennedy.

  “You know Patrick and Kennedy used to be an item?” said Kieran.

  “Every bloody day we’re together. Feels like I’m competing with the ghost of Kennedy Grey. And I can’t compete, of course. I’m two years into my postgraduate training and scraping by. But I really like Patrick. I just can’t give him the material things Kennedy could. Not right now, anyway. And on top of that, Patrick has a lot of baggage.”

  “How do you mean?”

  Before Joey answered, he turned and gave Kieran his full attention.

  “Tell me about you and Kennedy, first of all. What is it you like about him?”

  “A lot of things. He’s smart, works bloody hard, treats people he loves really well and, if you want my honest opinion, deep down he has a good heart.”

  “You really like him?”

  Kieran stared out to sea and mulled over the question, but the answer came instantly.

  “Someone else recently asked me the same question. And I’ll tell you the same thing I said to him. I admire Kennedy. I think he’s an inspiration.”

  “Wow, man. You’ve got it almost as bad as me,” said Joey, smiling and following Kieran’s gaze out to sea. “Patrick had issues with Kennedy and his family. Said they all looked down on him. Made him sleep in a separate bedroom in their house when he visited. Complained that Kennedy cared more about his work than being in a relationship.”

  “Kennedy certainly works hard, that much I know. You don’t become successful in this day and age without putting the hours in. I’m sure you know all about that if you’re working on becoming a doctor.”

  Peripherally, Kieran noticed Joey nodding.

  “Did they make you sleep in a different bedroom? His parents?”

  “Yeah, they did. Loved it. My own en suite bathroom and a huge bed.”

  “But you’re sleeping together here?”

  Kieran paused for a moment, wondering how to answer the question.

  “Yep. You win some, you lose some.”

  Joey laughed at that, before asking, “Which estate agency did you work for?”

  “Landreal Properties, based in Croydon.”

  “Shut the fuck up!” said Joey, aghast. “Then you must know my sister. She’s still the Surrey regional manager. Chloe Drinkwater?”
<
br />   Kieran froze. He knew Chloe well—she had been the one pushing to keep him when voices from the top began to let a whole raft of salespeople go. The trouble was, Chloe also knew his ex-girlfriend Jennifer, and got on really well with her. Chloe and her husband had been out for drinks and dinner with Kieran and Jennifer three or four times. For a second, he faltered, wondering how much to tell Joey.

  Right then, the balcony door slid open. Laurie poked her head out and rolled her eyes.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but we’ve all been summoned. Patrick has something he wants to say to us all.”

  Back inside, everyone either sat on sofas or stood awkwardly, looking towards the bar, where a slightly uncomfortable Patrick stood at the bar counter, about to give a speech, obsessively rubbing his left forearm.

  “Look, we didn’t want to hijack your welcome celebration. But sometimes one needs to take the bull by the horns. So I just have a few words I want to say then we’ll bugger off to dinner and leave you alone. We’re here on the cruise last minute, so I’m sorry you weren’t forewarned. I’m also truly sorry last year’s holiday didn’t end well, and I’m not about to start laying the blame at anyone’s feet. What happened, happened. But the fact is we’re all here, and this is a huge boat, with a hell of a lot of people, so we can easily lose ourselves among the crowds. At the end of the day, old friends can withstand a few knocks, don’t you think?”

  Kieran thought the words sounded heartfelt, but when he peered at Kennedy, he noticed him glowering at the floor. A couple of people around the room murmured their agreement, while others simply nodded.

  “And if anyone’s interested, we’re having our own afternoon drinks party. On the eighth day at sea, after Vietnam. A small gathering before the captain’s table banquet in the evening. Our cabin’s a little cosier than this one, but you’re all very welcome to join.”

  “A toast,” said Pete, who had stood the whole time with his arms crossed, but now raised his flute of champagne. “Here’s to having fun and adventures on the high seas.”

  “Hear, hear,” said Eric, topping up his glass with red wine and taking a gulp.

  Maybe Kieran imagined the reaction, but everyone appeared to join in half-heartedly. Straight afterwards, Patrick and his friends filed out of the cabin, Joey smiling a farewell at Kieran. Hopefully he had forgotten his earlier question. Almost as soon as the door closed, the room breathed a collective sigh of relief.

  “What the fuck just happened?” said Pete, almost the same time as Steph took over.

  “Oh my God, Kennedy,” she said, turning on Kennedy. “I totally forgot to mention. There’s a ballroom dance competition the night of the captain’s table. I’ve already entered us.”

  Kieran noticed that Kennedy’s mind had been elsewhere, but she now had his full attention.

  “Shiply Ballroom. And people, me and sex god Kennedy here are going to wow everyone with our signature tango to the Latin version of Roxanne—El Tango de Roxanne. Not exactly the same dance, but the same song as the Moulin Rouge movie version. So we’ll need you there to support.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so,” said Kennedy.

  “You dance?” asked Kieran, incredulous.

  “Darling,” said Pete. “These two have moves you would not believe. They’ve been dancing since university days. Kennedy, you have to say yes. Just to fuck Patrick off.”

  “You do,” said Laurie, who had initially appeared unsure, but was now nodding. “That bastard needs to be shown that you’re still fun to be around.”

  Kieran could not imagine Kennedy dancing to anything, let alone ballroom. But maybe the man he had come to like had hidden depths.

  “Let’s at least have a practice run,” said Steph. “Find an empty space and go through the dance steps. See what we can remember. What do you say?”

  * * * *

  Once the party finished, their group headed to the restaurant, and although Kieran ate his fill of the buffet food, Kennedy’s appetite appeared to have evaporated. Steph’s suggestion that they end the evening with a couple of potent cocktails at the bar on deck had worked to soften everyone’s mood before they headed back to their respective cabins.

  That night, after Kennedy had finished in the bathroom, Kieran took his turn to get ready to sleep. If he’d felt any apprehension about sharing the huge bed with Kennedy, everything melted away when he saw Kennedy sitting up, arms folded, glaring into space.

  “Look at us,” Kieran said, as he slipped beneath the covers, trying to make light of the situation. “In bed together with absolutely no intention of having sex. We ought to be married.”

  Kennedy had no reaction, still lost in thought staring at the foot of the bed.

  “Sorry, I’m talking nonsense. Nervous, I guess. It’s the first time I’ve shared a bed with a guy.”

  In response, Kennedy snorted softly.

  “I told you I’d be a gentleman.”

  “I know, I know. Sorry. Are you okay?”

  Kennedy turned his head to Kieran and attempted a smile.

  “Go to sleep, Kieran.”

  Kieran snuggled beneath the quilt, his head sinking into the pillow, staring at the ceiling. Kennedy had been right—he barely noticed him moving on his side of the bed when he readied himself to sleep.

  “So—err—what happened? With you and Patrick?”

  “We’re not going there.”

  “Okay then, but tell me if I’m fucking up here? Give me something I can work with.”

  Kennedy sighed loudly.

  “You’re not doing anything wrong. In fact, I’m really glad you’re here. There are just things between Patrick and me that are unresolved. And I think I’m going to have to grow a pair and put that right. Something I’m not looking forward to.”

  “I see,” said Kieran, even though he didn’t. “You want to know something I’m looking forward to?”

  “What’s that?” asked Kennedy, sounding a little guarded.

  “Seeing your moves on the dance floor.”

  Finally, Kennedy chuckled next to him.

  “Goodnight, Kieran.”

  “‘Night, Ned.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kennedy

  Kennedy woke late the next morning to an empty bed. After using the bathroom, he descended the stairs into the main living area. Only then did he notice the curtain billowing softly into the room. Out on the sun-drenched terrace, Kieran sat at a beautifully arranged breakfast table complete with pristine white tablecloth and laden with a mouth-watering assortment of breakfast victuals—a basket of Danish pastries and croissants, a jug of fresh orange juice, a fruit bowl, a rack of golden toast and two plates covered by silver domes. In sunglasses and white bathrobe, his feet crossed at the ankles up on the chair seat, a knee on either armrest, Kieran sat texting on his smartphone.

  “Morning, dear,” he said, looking up and grinning. “You looked so peaceful, I didn’t have the heart to wake you. Hope you don’t mind I’ve started breakfast without you. Simeon brought you a double espresso—just now, so it’s still hot—said to ring if you needed anything else. And I mean, anything Mr Grey needs.”

  As he moved around the table to take a seat opposite, Kennedy tried hard not to smile at Kieran’s impression of Simeon.

  “What’s my laptop doing here?” he asked, noticing his computer sitting on his placemat.

  “I put it there,” said Kieran. “Is that okay? I noticed how you always checked emails first thing in the morning at breakfast at your parents’ place. So I saved you the effort of fetching it.”

  “Thank you, but you didn’t need to.”

  Kieran shrugged nonchalantly before reaching for his coffee cup. To be honest, Kennedy appreciated the gesture, liking the fact that Kieran had noticed his habit of keeping abreast of news and work first thing in the morning.

  “Steph’s managed to blag a member of the cruise staff to let you two use one of the nightclubs this afternoon to practice your routine. Between two and three. They
don’t open to the rest of the passengers until four-thirty, so they can let you use the space for an hour. Shall I tell her yay or nay?”

  “You’re texting Steph?”

  “We set up a chat group last night. Pete, Steph, Laurie and me. Shall I add you?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “And how about this afternoon?”

  Kennedy’s mood hadn’t improved overnight, but he needed to lighten up around his friends, otherwise he was going to bring them all down.

  “What the hell. Tell her yes.”

  “Excellent. This I cannot wait to see.”

  “You’re not going to be there.”

  “The hell I’m not. I want to see everything you’ve got, Kennedy Grey.”

  “We’re sharing a bed now. I’d be careful how you phrase things like that around me.”

  This time Kieran tilted his head back and laughed into the morning. Kennedy chuckled along with him. Pouring coffee for himself, he realised how lucky he was to have chosen Kieran. His mood had already improved.

  “Can I say,” said Kieran, grinning playfully, “and please don’t take this the wrong way—but, at a stretch, I could imagine you having interests outside work. Squash, chess, tennis, swimming, art collecting—big game hunting, even. But ballroom dancing?”

  Once again, Kennedy found himself smiling. Kieran had correctly nailed him as being someone who enjoyed individual as opposed to team sports. Steph, who had also grown to love ballroom dancing as a kid, had been astonished to find out he could dance when they’d first met up at university.

  “Mum and Dad. Every Saturday morning for two years, my sister and I were dragged off to dance lessons. I think he thought I’d follow in his footsteps later in life, you know, diplomacy. And because he—they—had to attend a number of formal occasions and social functions throughout the year, being able to do the basics, like the waltz, quickstep, foxtrot and tango, went with the territory. At first I hated it—I’d have been eight at the time, stuck in a hall with a bunch of prissy girls—but there’s a discipline to dancing, a strategy to the moves, and even within that strict control, there’s a feeling of freedom, of letting go.”