by Jules Jones
He wasn’t sure if George and Patrick would appreciate the wines either, but he would, and he liked the idea. “As long as you don’t mind eating in the kitchen. It might be a while before the dining room’s done.”
“Then we’ll have another dinner for that room.”
“You’re on.”
“Oh, and my agent has been doing battle with the local electricity company. They’re arguing over whether it counts as a new installation or a reconnection; but whoever ends up paying for it, there will be new cable. They think the original installation is too old to support modern wiring inside the house. Anywhere from three days to six weeks, depending on whether she can convince them it’s a reconnection and how busy they are.”
“How much?” He’d need to get some money transferred from his savings account.
“Don’t know yet, and it’s my problem. It’s a business expense for the estate, so it’s probably easier for me to claim as a tax deduction than it is for you.”
“Thanks.” He’d pay for it in the end, in the increased price of the house, but having Mr Parker actively involved in managing the project was paying off already. Not just in saving money in the short term, but in having someone whose job it was to argue with utility companies.
“It’s keeping me amused. The building surveyor’s booked for next week. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
As he hung up, he wondered if it was keeping the old man amused. He might be providing a way for Mr Parker to see the summerhouse restored, without having to deal directly with painful memories. He hoped so.
He went to find George and Patrick and make plans for tomorrow. They’d made a good start, but there was a lot of work to be done still.
Chapter Twenty
They made good progress over the next few days. The main project was the kitchen, so that they could have one room in working order as soon as possible. But they also spent some time measuring up the broken glass in the ground-floor windows and buying replacement panes so that George and Patrick could start unboarding the other rooms. It was something they could easily work on while Martin was away, whether or not they had power.
The one power tool Martin did buy was a cordless drill with a spare battery. Even if it would only last a few hours before needing to be recharged at Simon’s, it would make a significant difference in some jobs. He could buy more cordless tools later as they worked out what they needed.
He left them on Sunday night with strict instructions to be careful and to call Simon or Mr Parker if they needed help. “And no climbing up ladders while I’m away. I don’t want to find you in hospital when I get back.”
* * * * *
Mr Parker phoned him two days later to say that the building surveyor’s preliminary report had found no major structural problems. “The roof will need some work after the next storm, but it can soldier on for now. There’s a little wet rot here and there, but it’s a DIY job. A few other things, all at the nuisance level.”
That was very good news. “So there’s nothing that needs a builder right now.”
“No. I’d book someone to look at the roof once you’ve got power and water again, but as long as it’s done sometime this summer, it will be all right.”
“So we can get the minor repairs done without worrying about it being all for nothing.” The roof would have to be tackled soon, but as Mr Parker said, it would be better to do it once they had mains power and water.
* * * * *
As predicted, he ended up spending one night a week at his own flat, and the weekends at Simon’s and the summerhouse. There was another note from Barry waiting for him the first time he went home to his flat. All it said was “Thanks”. He found that he could read it without any real reaction other than being glad he’d set Barry’s mind at rest. There were still regrets there, but now they were about it not having worked rather than about getting involved in the first place.
A month went by, a month of hard work at his day job and weekends with his partners. It was a glorious summer, and the lack of electricity didn’t hold them up, but merely channelled them into the jobs that could be done with hand and battery-powered tools. The repairs to the windows were the top priority to begin with anyway, to prevent further damage from weather finding its way in; and that was a job that wasn’t greatly slowed by the lack of mains power. The other priority was putting up a post-and-wire fence along the property line by the coast path, to discourage people from wandering in and pestering George and Patrick with questions.
The house was slowly connected back into the outside world. The water company came and turned the water back on, threatening to turn it off again if there were leaks. The pipe proved sound and they had mains water -- though the spring water tasted better. The septic tank was inspected and found to be operational.
Mr Parker phoned him with the news that the power had gone in. “They’ve also installed some temporary power points to use for the building work. There’s no point in trying to rewire the whole place yet, but I’ll send an electrician round next week to install the kitchen circuits. You can run extension cables from there as well.”
“Thanks. I appreciate your help. It’s been a lot easier with you chasing the paperwork for me.” Mr Parker’s agent had handled all the utilities work -- George and Patrick had simply gone into retreat when alien workmen were due to arrive.
“Just remember that you owe me a dinner. Should be up to it in a couple of weeks, I think?”
“Several dinners, and yes.” He was looking forward to it. He’d grown fond of the old man.
“Looking forward to dinner with three handsome young men. Be able to tease a few old friends about how I’m finally turning into a dirty old man.”
“What did old age pensioners do for gossip before email?”
“Used the phone, my boy. And before that they visited for weekends. Very long weekends, sometimes.”
Mr Parker had seen the very end of that era, but Martin was reluctant to push the subject. There were too many memories for Mr Parker, some of them not good. Let the dinner in the newly restored kitchen be the test of whether the good outweighed the bad. “Right. I should be finished with this job tomorrow or Friday, so I’ll see you at the weekend.”
He hung up and tried phoning George and Patrick. Their phone was off, as he’d expected, but he left a text message for them. They’d been reluctant when the idea of the dinner party was first broached, but had agreed that it was a reasonable thing for them to do. Giving them a warning that it was going to be soon was only fair. They’d never met Mr Parker and had still met Simon only in passing. Strangers were far easier for them to cope with than people who might want to be friends with them.
He was sure that the main reason they were willing to have the dinner party was that between the mutual interest in fossils and wanting to hear more about the history of the house, they had topics of conversation that didn’t involve their personal history. All the social chitchat about what do you do, where do you live -- these were things that required keeping careful track of half-truths. He understood far better now why they had gone to the cruising area in the dunes behind the naturist beach. Convenient lies were accepted, even expected, there. It had given them social intimacy without the strain of pretending to be who they weren’t.
He sighed and turned his attention back to his microscope.
* * * * *
Naturally, the one Friday he didn’t get away early was the last day. One thing led to another, and another, and a plea for him to stay on to deal with things before the weekend. Given a choice between that or having to come up again on Monday, he stayed. Walking out wasn’t an option, not when he was hoping for more work from them in the future. He phoned Simon and left a message on the answering machine, and then sent a text to Patrick and George.
Naturally, he then got stuck in the Friday evening traffic jam of people escaping from London for the weekend. And the traffic jam caused by the accident on the motorway. He tri
ed George and Patrick again, but the phone was still either switched off or the reception at the house was poor at the moment.
He would normally be back at Simon’s or the summerhouse by six, but by ten o’clock he was still inching towards the motorway exit he could see in the distance. He phoned Simon again while the queue was stationary.
“Where are you?” Then a slightly muffled, “It’s Martin.”
“On the motorway. Got caught in a tailback, but it’s starting to move now. What’s going on?”
More talking to someone else. “He’s still stuck in traffic.” To him, “George and Patrick are here. They got worried about you. They couldn’t get your mobile to answer, so they phoned me.”
He’d told them that he didn’t answer the phone while driving and that if they phoned him while he was on the road they’d have to wait until he found a safe place to pull off. But that couldn’t have been it, because he’d never even heard it ring. “I must have been in a dead spot. But I sent them a text earlier.”
“Yes, but you also said you’d be a couple of hours late, not several hours late. I think they got worried because you’re normally pretty punctual. And you know how the reception is a bit flaky along that bit of the Purbeck coast, so I picked them up and brought them here. At least I’ve got a landline.”
They must have been worried if they’d phone Simon, never mind go home with him. “Tell them I’m sorry. It could be another couple of hours before I get there, but we do seem to be moving now. Oh, it is moving. I’ll have to go. I’ll go to your place first.”
“I’ll tell them. Bye.”
He’d been sleeping at Simon’s rather than the summerhouse, so it was an obvious place for them to go when they started worrying, but he was still slightly surprised. The occasional passing visits to pick up and drop off things must have got them used to Simon, at least enough that when given a good reason they’d go to him.
* * * * *
He finally got to Simon’s at around half eleven. Patrick and George jumped on him; then, having satisfied themselves he was all right, insisted on taking his bags inside for him.
Simon watched them go, then said, “We’ve had an entertaining evening of awkward silence. They really are shy, aren’t they?”
“I did warn you.”
“I’m just surprised you managed to get involved with them in the first place. I left them alone with the books; that seemed to keep them distracted. But they were a lot happier after you phoned. They actually started talking to me then.” He headed back into the house, and Martin followed.
They met George and Patrick coming back out again. Simon said, “It’s far too late for you two to get back to the house tonight. You’re welcome to stay here.”
“Is there room?” George asked.
“You’ve just seen the size of the bed in his room.” Simon looked George up and down, all six foot seven of him. “It’s big enough to fit three normal people; it can probably manage even you two. Or there’s another spare bedroom if Martin objects to sharing a bed with you two giants.”
George actually grinned at Simon. “Well, he never has before, but he wasn’t spending all night with us.”
Martin had always been amused by Simon’s self-indulgence in fitting the two biggest rooms with king-sized beds, but now he appreciated it. There might be room for the three of them to sleep together in moderate comfort. “If they keep me awake by bumping into me, I can always go into the other room myself. They’d better have the biggest bed if we do split up.”
George and Patrick didn’t seem entirely happy with that idea, but George just said, “We’ll go to bed now. What about you?”
“I need to unwind for half an hour. If I go straight to bed, I’ll be seeing headlights in my sleep.” He’d had that problem before after a long drive, and much as he’d like to cuddle up to them in bed, he needed to walk around for a few minutes and switch out of driving mode.
“All right.”
“There are probably spare toothbrushes under the sink,” Simon offered, “but I doubt if my pyjamas would fit you.”
“The toothbrushes are more important,” Patrick said. “Thanks.”
Patrick and George went off to the bathroom, leaving Martin alone with Simon. “Want a brandy?” Simon asked. “You look as if you could do with one.”
“So do you. And yes, please.”
“It’s the strain of dealing with those two.” Simon held up a hand before he could say anything. “No. I like them. They seem very nice. But they made me feel as if I was the big bad ogre ready to pounce on them. There’s just something about them ...” He shook his head. “I’m not sure whether it’s cause or effect, if they’ve just spent too long with mostly each other for company, but I can understand why their family might be happy to see them only on high days and holidays.”
“Give them time to get used to you. They don’t like talking about themselves. They’ll be better once they’re convinced you’re not going to interrogate them.”
Simon rolled his eyes. “Oh, so I’m not the big bad ogre; I’m the old aunt who insists on knowing every embarrassing detail of what nevvie’s been doing since my last visit.”
He laughed at the description. The exact description wasn’t accurate, but it was still a fairly good approximation of their reaction to being asked anything about themselves. “Got it in one.”
“How are they going to deal with this dinner for Mr Parker?” Simon asked. “I was talking to him earlier this week, and he mentioned it.”
“Badly, probably. But they’ve got the house to talk about, and I’ll be there as a buffer. Have you been seeing much of him?”
Simon nodded. “Like I said, he’s interesting. And he’s interested in what I’ve been doing.”
He could see Simon appreciating that. Most people saw only the glamour of TV, not the hard work that went on behind the scenes to bring those images into the nation’s living rooms. Simon had only looked for the owner of the summerhouse to help Martin out, but seemed to have got something out of it himself.
* * * * *
George and Patrick were still awake when Martin went to bed. They’d taken Simon seriously and left plenty of room for Martin, but Patrick put an arm around him as he climbed into bed. “What was all that about giants? He’s not exactly short himself.”
“That’s why. He’s not used to being one of the shorter people in the room, and having you two looming over him all evening will be good for him.”
“Ah.” George sounded amused, so Martin assumed that he understood the psychology now that it had been pointed out to him.
There was silence for a moment; then Patrick said, “He was decent. Just asked whether we needed anything, then left us alone.”
“I’ve told him you’re shy, and he knows that pushing at shy people is more likely to make them run away than anything else. Will you be all right now that I’m here?”
“Mmm.” Patrick snuggled up to him. Not looking for sex, not when he didn’t seem to have an erection. Just the tactile reassurance that Martin was there. “We’re tired, so if you’re too tired ...”
“Right now I just want a cuddle and then sleep.”
“Sounds good to me,” Patrick said happily.
He fell asleep within minutes and slept soundly in spite of three in the bed.
When he woke up there was sunlight in the room and a warm body on either side of him. He had a second of panic at the two bodies, then remembered where he was and who he was with. Odd, that, but then he’d never spent the whole night with them before, only an after-sex nap.
One of them must have got up during the night, since he hadn’t started out in the middle. Satisfied that he knew what was going on, he tried to doze off again.
He was disturbed by a wet finger pushing into him, and an amused whisper. “You’re awake. We can tell, remember.”
They must have noticed the spike in his pulse when he’d had the whowhatwhere moment. That on top of the change in his breathin
g must have made them fairly confident that they wouldn’t be waking him up. “Go ’way. I’m sleeping.”
“All right, we’ll just fuck you as you are.”
If he hadn’t been quite certain that they’d stop if he really objected, he would have objected to being treated like that. As it was, he just ignored them. It wasn’t as if they were likely to use up their capacity for sex and leave none for him to have later when he felt a little more lively. He could happily catch another ten minutes of dozing while they worked off the week’s backlog.
He heard the sound of a condom being ripped open and realised that they were working as a team. One of them was stretching him; the other was going to fuck him. He didn’t know which was which, and found that he didn’t care enough to open his eyes to check. As long as it was George and Patrick, he was quite happy to play the blow-up doll for whichever of them wanted first turn.
Finger out, cock in. Whoever it was was being careful, at least at first. Then after a couple of easy strokes, he really went for it. Preliminary diagnosis was Patrick, although George was quite capable of doing that as well.
It was rather pleasant lying here in a half-awake state, cock up him but not expected to actually do anything about it, not even an encouraging grunt. He relaxed and let it happen, enjoying the sensation of being fucked when he was only just starting to get aroused. No pressure to perform, to catch up, not when he knew that they could easily do him half a dozen times each if they so chose. There were advantages to having partners who weren’t entirely human.
Whoever it was gave one last deep thrust and held still. He’d definitely come, but he didn’t pull out, just collapsed onto Martin for a minute or two. Martin was just starting to consider complaining about the weight when whoever it was roused himself and lifted his weight a little.
Then there were kisses along Martin’s shoulders, followed by more thrusting.
“Definitely Patrick,” he commented sleepily.
“How --”
“Because it’s obvious,” he heard George say. He could tell George was grinning, even if he couldn’t see him. “You can be a bit single-minded at times.”