“Why are you sad, Enna?” Oliver asked. And so it began.
While they were alone, Jess and Adele had taken the opportunity to enjoy a soak in the hot tub, and clear the air, albeit in a very superficial way. Adele was feeling very important indeed, with Jess telling her that she felt she ought to explain why she had been spending so much time with Rob, although it was only a means to an end, inasmuch as she knew that Adele would tell Dan, and therefore Andy would get to find out. Rob had got the money for his surgery now, his last text message confirmed, and he promised to call as soon as he had an admission date. Adele made all the right sympathetic noises and even gave Jess a hug and an apology. None of it was heartfelt, but both believed they had gained sufficiently from the experience to at least act like they were friends for the rest of their time in Wales.
Things weren’t much less tense a few miles down the mountain, where George had led his reluctant companion up a winding cobbled road that opened out onto the village green, across from which was a pub called ‘The Ferret’s Hat’. It was old and tatty, with missing roof tiles and flaking window frames. Outside there were three weather-bleached picnic tables and a sandwich board penned by an illiterate:
Fine Cask Ale’s
Fresh food served dayly
“We’ve been walking around this place for almost an hour,” George pre-empted, expecting Josh to dismiss the pub, like he had the three others before it.
“All right,” he sighed, stopping to wipe off the apostrophe with a dampened fingertip.
“Joshua!” George admonished, grabbing his sleeve to pull him inside. Josh jolted his arm away and made a big deal out of straightening his shirt. “Would you please stop moaning? It’s this or the chip shop.”
Josh followed him sullenly to the bar and glanced around the place listlessly, shrugging at the suggestions being made, leaving George to decide that they were having steak and ale pie and a glass of Coke.
“What’s the matter?” George asked, as they took their drinks and sat at a table outside.
“Nothing. I’m not that hungry.”
“You’re very fidgety today.”
“Am I? I feel fine,” Josh dismissed, whilst at the same time becoming very aware that he was jigging his leg up and down. He stopped immediately.
“You would tell me, wouldn’t you, if there was something wrong?”
“Stop worrying!” Josh smiled quickly and broke eye contact.
George didn’t ask any more questions. Clearly there was something bothering him, and he knew not to probe if there was to be any chance of receiving an explanation. It was just so infuriating to see him revert to his previous mood when things had been going so well and they’d been so open with each other for the past few days. The chill in the air wasn’t just because they were sitting in the shade, with the silence only temporarily suspended to thank the person who brought out their food. It was very well presented and tasted just fine to George, but Josh hardly touched his, so clearly desperate to leave. George ate as quickly as he could, giving himself indigestion in the process, and they were back on the cobbled road again thirty minutes later.
“So what do you want to do now? We’ve got another hour before Shaunna and Kris are due back.”
“Can we just go and find somewhere quiet, away from people?” Josh suggested. George looked around the deserted village. It was half-day closing and they had hardly seen anyone at all. To his left there was a signpost for the marina, which had already been dismissed as being too full of tourists; to his right was a footpath arrow pointing to a gap in a dry-stone wall.
“This way,” George said, heading off in the direction of the footpath. Josh held back, then ran and caught up.
“Sorry. I don’t feel very well today.”
“Too much beer last night?”
“Err, a bit more than that.”
They stepped through the gap, emerging into a field of cows. George stopped dead. “Ah,” he said.
Josh walked on, up the footpath which ran along a wall separating this from another field, fully expecting George to be right behind him and only realising that he wasn’t when he was thirty feet or so away.
“George!”
“Could you come back here, please?”
“No. They’re not even paying any attention to us.”
“Not yet, they’re not, but it’s only a matter of time. Please?”
Josh refused to move, so George slowly, carefully, walked up the field towards him, trying to ignore the cows. One of them turned and stared at him, steadily chewing her way through the mouthful of long grass that was hanging down from either side of her enormous nose. George drew level with Josh and stopped again.
“Don’t make me do this.”
“I’m not going to make you go any further. Just stay here, with me, for a few minutes, and we’ll watch them.”
“No way. I know what you’re up to and I’m quite happy to keep this phobia, thank you very much.”
“Are you sure? Only it seems a shame to miss this perfect opportunity to do something about it.” By now the herd had started moving towards them, and George was already backing off. The wall was too high to climb over, which meant the only other escape was right up the top of the field, in which case they would have to come back this way again later, or the hole through which they had come, beyond the expanse that was now filling with cows.
“I hate you for this,” George muttered through tightly clenched teeth, and although he didn’t mean it, the words were tinged with the venom of someone whose every instinct was telling them to flee.
“I’m beginning to hate me for this too,” Josh said. He didn’t share George’s fear, but they were getting a little too close and even he was starting to feel nervy. The path back to the gap in the wall was still clear, and he took George’s hand.
“We’re going back,” he instructed. “Close your eyes if you need to. I’ll guide you.”
George kept his eyes wide open and followed, stumbling a couple of times, watching the nearest of the enormous beasts plodding slowly in their direction. If he’d been on his own he’d have made a run for it, which was the worst thing to do, but as it was, his pace was being controlled by Josh, and they were now almost at the exit. Without warning, a guinea fowl, disturbed from its hiding place in the long grass, flew out in front of the cow; it startled and ran, and so did George, dragging Josh out of the field and back onto the road. He stopped and leaned against the wall, panting and trying to catch his breath. Josh shook his head in amazement.
“How in God’s name did you cope on the ranch?”
“I didn’t,” George replied breathlessly. That was part of the reason he’d so readily given it up, although only a very small part.
“You know this animal psychology idea of yours?”
George knew where this was going and Josh was right. If he had any intention of taking things further, he was going to have to deal with his ridiculous phobia. However, his whole interest in anything to do with psychology, counselling and therapy was at an all time low, as a result of his bad experience at the prison, so now was not the right time to be making quick career decisions. Josh sensed he wanted to let it go and respected his wishes.
“On the plus side, you’ve distracted me from my moping. Let’s go take a look at this marina,” he suggested. George frowned grumpily. “Come on. I’ll even throw in an ice-cream.”
CHAPTER THIRTY:
NEGOTIATION
Only their third evening at the cabins, and they were already settled into a routine, which began in earnest once the children were fed, the dog was walked and those intending to make the most of the hot tub had surpassed the disappointment of their bathing attire still being wet from the day before. Andy wasn’t the first to suggest skinny-dipping as a viable alternative, but all those concerned decided that a few moments’ discomfort was preferable to spending an entire evening exposed to the elements and to each other. Dan and Andy had bought some disposable barbecues from
the shop up by the sports centre, where there was also a launderette, should the people in the hot tub feel the need to avoid the wet swimming costume problem in future, although by the time it came up in conversation they were all so warm and tipsy from yet again spending too long sitting in the hot water that no-one really cared.
This time, rather than leaving the occupants of the centre cabin to clear up (and after several not-so-subtle hints from Shaunna), each took their empties away with them when they left at the end of the evening: a much more respectable eleven o’clock, although Josh and Kris—the only ones from their cabin not to go in the tub—were still wide awake, and stayed up playing pontoon for chocolate buttons. Jess had put on a convincing façade of enjoying herself, but her dark mood returned as soon as they were away from the celebratory atmosphere, so when she came for a glass of water at two in the morning, having been woken by the pair of them laughing at how many chocolate buttons Kris had piled in front of him, she didn’t say a word, although her silent glare told them exactly what she thought of their little card game. George had also gone to bed, assuming he wouldn’t be alone for long, and had fallen asleep quickly, emotionally and physically drained from their excursion to the village, and from trying to cope with Josh’s mood swings. It was to be expected, he supposed, given that it was only last week that they had both finally owned up to how they really felt, and now they were sharing a bed, which would have been a bit of a shock in any relationship, even more so in one requiring so much negotiation and compromise. It was almost three o’clock when Josh finally came to bed, and he curled up close, once again sending George into an immediate state of arousal. He concentrated on his breathing and was asleep again within minutes.
The next morning they were both sitting in bed, reading books and sipping coffee. It was all very conventional and made them feel a bit like an old married couple, although the main reason they were still in bed was to avoid Jess, who had been up since seven, flooding the lounge with her misery. When they did eventually make it out of their room, it was only en route to the car, from there driving to a pub on the way to the village they had visited yesterday, to eat lunch and be somewhere inside where Jess, or indeed, any of their friends, was not. They were having something of a minor disagreement, because George really wasn’t being obstreperous in asking so many questions; he just couldn’t get how an ‘intimate’ relationship was possible without even the most occasional sex, which was not what he said in so many words, but Josh knew what he meant and kept switching between patiently explaining—again—the difference between romantic and erotic love, and dissolving into sulky silence, where all George could do was say sorry, knowing that any time now he would receive an apology back; and on it would go.
They stayed in the pub for as long as they could without loitering, which was difficult, seeing as Josh was driving and the only non-alcoholic drinks available were mixers. After a half an hour of further chatting, with no drinks on their table and lots of funny looks from the barman, they left and returned to the cabin to find they were alone.
“See now,” George began cautiously, trying to make his observation sound carefree and not a bit important to him, “this would usually be a perfect opportunity for a bit of afternoon nookie. Is there a romantic equivalent to that?”
Josh folded his arms and leaned on the breakfast bar, a bemused smile settling on his face.
“Why is that funny?”
“Because you really have no imagination, do you? You want afternoon nookie? Come on then.”
George frowned. He couldn’t see how this was going to work, but Josh was already in their room, so he had no choice but to follow.
“So, what are we doing?” he asked.
“Thought we could make it up as we go along.”
George flexed his aching back. The firmness of the mattress wasn’t doing him much good, but it was more tension than anything.
“Perfect,” Josh said, flipping off his shoes and getting into a kneeling position on the bed. He patted a spot in front of him. “I’ll give you a massage.”
Now it was George’s turn to look bemused. He sat where indicated and tried to relax, as Josh’s fingers gently came into contact with his skin. He ignored the stirring of interest inside his jeans and focused on the sensation of the light pressure on his tense neck muscles.
“Take off your t-shirt.”
George turned his head and gave him a ‘Do you think that’s wise?’ kind of look.
“I can’t very well rub your shoulders through it, can I?”
George complied, aware of the rumblings of lust starting up within. Josh continued to knead and stroke, round his neck, into his shoulders, working his way down each arm, before moving on to his back, at which point he told him to lie on his front. With Josh now straddled across his buttocks, it was all he could do to stay where he was, convinced that, for the first time since he was a teenager, he was going to make a terrible mess in his boxers. The whole ‘purpose’ of these exercises, aside from intimacy, was to try and establish the point at which the sensual became the sexual, and he really ought to admit that he was so far beyond it that there was probably no going back. He was on his way to the crest of the wave when Josh moved away, and he heaved a sigh of relief. Alas, it was optimistic and short-lived, as the next thing he knew he was lying on his back, with Josh sat astride his waist, his hands coming down on his chest and it was all too late. He wanted to cry with embarrassment.
When he returned from cleaning himself up, Josh put his arms around him.
“I’d have stopped if you’d said something.”
“It’s not as easy as that.” He couldn’t get his head around it, and the more he tried, the worse it got. How could Josh not be aroused by what they were doing? His self esteem was plummeting through the floor.
Josh waited for George to put his shirt back on and indicated that he should sit down. He looked so dejected.
“Please don’t be embarrassed.”
“I’m trying! But when I find you so…it’s this whole sexual attraction thing. I’m struggling with it being all one-sided. It’s making me feel so inadequate.”
“Honestly, you’re such a goon sometimes. First off, there’s more to good looks than sex appeal. I mean, look at Shaunna, who, let’s face it, neither of us have any sexual or romantic interest in, but does that mean we don’t find her attractive?”
“No, I guess not.”
“And for the record, I am attracted to you, as I told you before, but it doesn’t work the same way for me. That doesn’t make you, or me, inadequate.”
George wasn’t convinced, but he gave him the benefit of the doubt.
“We made it to here, didn’t we? After all that time apart.” He nudged George and he nodded dolefully. “And perhaps that’s the way we’re going to have to do it, because I really don’t mind if you…do what you did before.”
“It feels like I’m being selfish.” Josh was about to protest, but George continued: “I know what you’re saying, but it’s a whole new concept to me.”
For all that they had shared so far, Josh didn’t want to say that this was new to him too, which was why he’d accidentally tipped George over the edge. Even now he was struggling to comprehend how a massage was erotic, just as much as George was struggling to see how it wasn’t. To think: all the time they’d known each other, and yet they barely knew each other at all.
The awkwardness of their ‘afternoon nookie’ was soon forgotten once they were in the company of others again. Tonight’s activities: Shaunna and Kris had cooked a colourful array of Indian dishes, which were going down very well with a bottle or two of their chosen beverage. And Shaunna was on fine form once again, regaling them with stories of Adele’s first visit to an Indian restaurant, where she’d thought the hot cloth delivered at the end of the starter was another course and politely informed the waiter that she hadn’t ordered it. Even Adele laughed when Shaunna mimed the actions of someone trying to bite into a piece of wet f
lannel and saying, “Mmm…chewy!”
Overnight it rained so heavily that there was a virtual stream running along the stretch of tarmac in front of the cabins, before it coalesced with the river that was the road down the mountain. By midday it started easing off, and Dan was back on Andy’s case about the bungee jump he’d been threatening to undertake. However, the previous afternoon, after they’d checked in their hang gliding equipment, they’d got talking to a couple of skysurfers who were about to go up, and being the adrenaline junkie that he was, Andy challenged Dan to a rematch. Before they knew it, they were both freefalling towards the mountains (this time with the benefit of expert advice and the right equipment), each catching occasional glimpses of the other attempting basic manoeuvres. It was an exhilarating and successful dive, until they came in to land, when Andy jettisoned his board so late that it bounced back and hit him on the side of the head.
Thus, as soon as anybody mentioned bungee jumping (which they were all doing at a far greater frequency than usual—amazing how it could be worked into a conversation on almost any topic), Andy would put his hand to his head and complain that he felt sick and dizzy, although not so sick or dizzy as to stop him drinking beer, and with the weather so bad, they’d started early. Poor Oliver was tearing around the place, so desperate to play outside that in the end George took him for a short spell at the playground. The boys on bikes were there, making the most of skidding in the muddy terrain, but they stopped to come over and play for a while with Oliver. When it started raining again, George got to experience the tantrums firsthand, and stood in heavy downpour for a full five minutes, while Oliver stamped his feet and screamed. He didn’t mention any of this to James later.
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