The Bruise_Black Sky

by John Wiltshire

  “What do—?”

  “Babushka’ll need a new dress for the ball, so Philipa’s taking her shopping to Exeter tomorrow—unless you want to take her? Might be easier with the language thing…Can you call her for dinner? We’re ready.”

  “But—”

  “Oh, course, I suppose we could drive. Then we could take Radulf, and Babushka could see some of the countryside. That might be cool. What do you think?”

  “I—”

  “Go call her then. She’s watching Strictly—”

  “Ben.” Nikolas put his hand over Ben’s to stop the terrible grinding noise. “What are you talking about?”

  “Emilia’s end of year next week. We’re going.”

  “I—”

  “I know.”

  “Then why—?”

  “Because—”

  “Will you fucking let me finish one sentence? Please!”

  “Don’t swear at me, Nikolas.”

  Nikolas actually felt his jaw drop a little and had to resist the temptation to tap it shut theatrically. He blinked.

  Ben grinned and kissed him. “Go fetch Babushka. Please.”

  Temporarily flummoxed, but thinking of a suitable reply, Nikolas turned to do as Ben asked and heard a murmured, “We’ll practise our dancing later.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Ben actually had no intention of dancing at the ball. That, as far as he was concerned, was for pussies, a judgement he also gave to art, classical music, black and white films, and any books without serial killers, or explosions, or zombies. The only times he’d done so had been at mess functions when he’d been so drunk that all he remembered was an eerie sort of tribalism that stirred the blood, until the rhythmic movements had resembled a battle fought not with weapons, but with bodies and the beat of overloud sound systems. And, of course, men didn’t cavort publicly with other men—however gay they were now willing to concede they might be. Which wasn’t all that much, as, although they’d both admitted it, both come out to a room full of men (well, seven, not including Squeezy, who probably hadn’t been listening anyway), that didn’t mean they talked about it or actually wanted to consider it as affecting their day-to-day interactions at all. They were both quite happy to live together and have sex and still not give voice to the G word. So dancing was out of the question.

  They hadn’t even held hands in public yet.

  However, he had no intention of telling Nikolas that they weren’t going to enjoy the ball.

  There was, consequently, a little edge to the atmosphere during the meal. Ben could tell. Nikolas was being overly polite. He was speaking exclusively to Ulyana Ivanovna in Russian, excluding him, whilst at the same time being exceedingly civil to him. It was a neat trick. Nikolas had depths, Ben had to give him that.

  Ulyana Ivanovna, of course, was delighted to discover that she didn’t have to travel to her granddaughter’s end of year on her own. She particularly liked the idea of driving, as she told Ben. Ben’s Russian was now quite decent enough for that simple conversation, but once she told him that and he replied, “Good,” she turned back to Nikolas, and the rest of the conversation passed him by. He concentrated on the farfalle with creamy wild mushroom sauce, tapping Nikolas’s plate a little when he realised, as usual, that Nikolas wasn’t eating.

  Nikolas picked up his fork and moved the little bows around for a while. Eventually, he muttered in Danish, “It might be awkward, Ben. That’s why I was hesitating about attending.” He took a large swallow of wine, laying down his utensil, unused, once more.

  “Awkward? How?”

  Nikolas looked a little pained. “For Emilia. If we come to her school. Who will she say we are?”

  “Her friends?”

  “Don’t be naive, Ben, please. You know what I’m saying.”

  Ben regarded him for a moment then nudged him under the table with his foot. Nikolas quirked his lip a fraction at the private communication. “Maybe you should trust Emilia. Let go, have a little faith that you don’t have to decide everything all the time.” There was far more being admitted here than a comment on a thirteen-year-old girl’s ability to understand the nuances of human relations. It was why Ben had softened his remark with the foot touch. Nikolas leant back in his chair, his dark gaze holding Ben for an unusually long time.

  His only reply, as he resumed playing with his pasta was, “But we will fly. It is too far to drive.”

  §§§

  When they arrived, Ben was very glad they’d flown. The school was remote, to say the least—two hundred acres of wooded grounds on the very northwest tip of Scotland, hugging a rugged coastline and private, sandy beaches. They left Ulyana Ivanovna at the hotel to rest and rented a car to drive to the school and pick up Emilia. She had an exeat for the evening so she could have dinner in the hotel with them.

  Ben hadn’t been sure what to expect, but was awed into silence by the graceful buildings and the sweeping lawns, bright and welcoming in the June sunshine. It was very far removed from his comprehensive in Yorkshire, which he remembered as barely more than a holding pen for delinquents. He was beginning to regret his hasty decision to accept the invitation, and understood Nikolas’s reticence a little more. Suddenly, a tall, elegant young woman came towards them from the throng of pupils greeting parents.

  Emilia stopped in front of them. She was very tall and lean for thirteen. Her hair, which they were used to seeing tumbling and curling and wayward, was done in an elaborate braid and twist. She had freckles across her nose from outdoor summer activities. Ben felt awkward until she turned to him, and, with the tiniest smile, they were back in a hanger in Siberia, making a friendship based on nothing more than a mutual confusion at the hand life had dealt them. She then regarded Nikolas. He was pretending to watch the other parents. Ben knew, though—Nikolas would never leave himself open to rejection, so he shifted emotionally away from any situation that threatened such exposure. Emilia snorted faintly and then flung her arms around him. Despite what Nikolas had once told her, Emilia had worked out for herself that some people need a more potent display of love than they let on.

  As they drove to the hotel, she leant through the gap in the front seats, badgering them with questions about Mr Darcy and Radulf and the cottage and all the other concerns in Devon. Her American accent was almost entirely gone, except for a kind of valley-laziness and rise at the end of each sentence, which matched the upper-crust drawl of her schoolfellows. Her Russian, however, was greatly improved, as her best friend at school came from that country, along with almost twenty percent of her house. She’d been working hard at it for Babushka’s sake.

  Emilia had recently made it into the school tennis team, never having played before, and was keen to practise with Nikolas over the coming holiday. Ben saw Nikolas repress a small smirk at the thought of having someone else to beat—Ben had yet to take a set off him.

  Ben pulled the programme for the next couple of days out of his pocket and handed it back to her, keeping his eyes on the road. “What time do you want us to be at the fair?”

  For the first time, looking at the schedule, she sounded hesitant. “Eleven, maybe? I’ll meet you at the front of the dorm?”

  Nikolas plucked the sheet from her. “It says silent auction at ten. What’s a silent auction?”

  “I…err…I’m not sure. I think it’s…people bid for things?”

  “Oh, I had no idea that’s what an auction was. I meant the silent part. Is it all done by mime?”

  “It’s secret bids. On paper, not out loud. I think.”

  “Why?”

  “Because! Anyway, if you come at—”

  “What are the prizes—that this has to be done in secret?”

  “They’re…you know, the usual things. We’ve donated them.”

  “We?”

  “Yes! At school. We’ve all donated things.”

  “And…?” Nik turned in his seat. She sat back, folding her arms.

  “I donated you both.” She flung h
erself forward. “I’m sorry, but I had to do something! I don’t have spare cars or holidays in chalets in Switzerland to offer!”

  Ben was watching her in the mirror. She twitched her nose and pouted. Nikolas did his staying silent trick, and being only thirteen she fell for it. “I had to donate something and lots of girls were donating services and things—half an hour cleaning cars, babysitting, you know!”

  Nikolas licked his lips. Ben could have sworn it was a nervous gesture. “You have volunteered us for baby—?”

  “Hardly.” She had the upper hand again now and seized the initiative, giving him a derisory glare.

  Ben intervened. “Emmy, just tell us, yeah? What have you donated us to do? I don’t mind cleaning a car for half an hour. And Nik can learn how, if he puts his mind to it…”

  She straightened her blazer a little, brushing some imaginary fluff off her kilt. “I donated you for a date. Everyone knows who you are…I mean, you’re almost a celebrity…” Nikolas snorted at the almost, but then seemed to realise this confession hadn’t included him. She twitched her nose again at his interrogatory eyebrow. “I explained you were a fixer. I’ve donated you to…fix things.”

  Nikolas frowned. Ben did too, trying to think of the last time he’d seen Nikolas with a tool in his hand, other than the obvious one. Nikolas appeared to be having the same problem. “I…I…I’m actually at a loss. Fixer? What did you tell them?”

  “I didn’t come out and say it like that…No one would believe me for a start…But I promised you fixed…problems.” At his continued bafflement, she concluded with a resigned eye roll, “You’re Russian. They knew what I meant.”

  “You told them that I was—?”

  “Nik…” Ben hardly needed to point out that Emilia might think she knew everything, and being thirteen it was highly probable she did assume this, but she didn’t actually know anything about Nikolas’s past or his peculiar talents.

  Nikolas turned back to face front once more and only commented in Danish to Ben that they would attend the auction early and make any necessary bids themselves.

  A little voice from the back seat muttered, “I understood that.”

  Nikolas huffed. “Good. And little girls shouldn’t listen to adults’ conversations.”

  “Well, adults shouldn’t have conversations in front of them then, and when I find two adults I’ll be sure to let them know.”

  Ben felt rather than saw Nikolas’s expression and tried not to smile.

  They arrived at the hotel and the greeting between grandmother and granddaughter put paid to any further comment from Nikolas on the auction.

  Ben could tell Nik was sanguine about the whole thing, and that by a judicious application of excessive wealth, all would be solved.

  It was unfortunate, therefore, that they’d decided to fly to Scotland, for that had forced them to hire a car. Their vehicle broke down the next day between the hotel and the school, and they had to call for a tow from a local garage. By the time they reached the school, the fair was in full swing, but, more importantly, the auction was over. Someone had paid over a thousand pounds for a date with ex-Special-Forces-expert Ben Rider—Emilia had advertised him as such and put a copy of the cute selfie he’d sent her at Christmas on the poster. A little over a thousand pounds. Ben couldn’t tell if Nikolas was impressed or amused by the amount.

  Nikolas’s auction had raised ten pounds.

  Apparently no one had been sure what a fixer was.

  But someone had been willing to risk a tenner to find out.

  §§§

  They wandered around the fair in the warm June sunshine amongst the glorious buildings, feeling unexpectedly at home. Well dressed, affluent, they blended in with the parents and other guests who were likewise enjoying the ambience. The pupils flittered here and there, dragging elegant mothers to view yet another gem of the school or meet yet another friend. Ben noticed Emilia giving the happy families glances once or twice, and felt a surge of gratitude and love for Nikolas when, unprompted, he challenged her to a game of archery. She quickly forgot to watch the girls with their mothers in the excitement of choosing a bow and making a suitable bet. They decided if he won she would have to name her horse Bronislav, as Nikolas wanted—after all, as he had pointed out to anyone who would listen to him, what better name for any animal than Glorious Protector? She agreed to his terms, then thinking theatrically, and with a small quirk of her lips at Ben, she declared that if she won, Nikolas would have to take the floor with her for the opening number that evening.

  Ben felt an immediate twinge of anxiety at this for some reason. He told himself it was fear of Nikolas’s inevitable reaction and Emilia’s predicable hurt at this refusal, but if it was, then he was worrying needlessly. Nikolas agreed gracefully with a small bow that yes, if she won, he’d dance with her that evening.

  That sent Ben into a minor tailspin. As she walked over to pin a new target sheet up to the board, he stood a little closer to Nikolas than he’d been doing all morning. Nikolas smelt incredibly good, which was instantly distracting. “You have to let her win, Nik.”

  Nikolas frowned. “No I don’t.” He took off his jacket and carefully handed it to Ben, loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves. He smelt even better now, the sun soaking into the expensive cotton of his shirt, its light gracing the blond hair on his tanned forearms…

  Ben licked his lips and tried to pull his thoughts back to the present. “You can’t beat kids at things. You’re an adult.”

  “Then why make a bet with them? I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “Jesus, Nik. Didn’t anyone ever let you win when you were little?”

  “They didn’t have to. No one could beat me at anything. Isn’t that the point?”

  “No! Let her win! Please!”

  “But she’d hate that! This is Emilia, Ben.” He pushed Ben to one side and strode confidently to the line.

  They had four arrows each.

  Nikolas shot first.

  He missed the target completely with his first two arrows so he scored nothing. Ben watched with fascinated glee as a trickle of sweat glistened on Nikolas’s forehead, but he gave him the benefit of the doubt—it was very hot. He hit the outer rim with his third arrow and scored one point. With his final one, he got a solid inner ring—five points. Six. Nik clearly wasn’t sure if this was good or not. He’d hit the target, which was something.

  Emilia sank three bull’s-eyes, but was laughing so triumphantly she missed the target entirely with her fourth and last arrow. It really didn’t matter. She’d been taking archery for a year and could add up three bull’s-eyes without Ben’s help. But Ben liked to be helpful and told them both a number of times that she’d scored thirty.

  And that Nikolas had six.

  He nudged Nikolas as they were moving onto the next stand, handing over the jacket and saying quietly in Danish, “You’re a bugger, Nik. I believed you for a minute. Thanks for letting her win.”

  Nikolas pursed his lips as he adjusted his tie. “Really, Benjamin. I’m not that sad that I need to beat little girls at anything. Of course, I let her win. So, you are okay with this dancing thing?”

  Ben gave him a quick glance. “You think I’d be…jealous?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. No, I was just wondering whether it was…appropriate?”

  “Her father would dance with her, I guess? If he was still alive…?”

  “But I’m not her…Is that how you see me? As her father?”

  “Nik, no, but I think that’s how she’s starting to see you.”

  Nikolas stopped and caught at Ben’s arm, allowing Emilia and her grandmother to get further ahead. “What do you mean?”

  Ben toed the ground for a moment. “I’m not sure. It’s just…she’s moving in with us…You’re sending her to school. But nothing is…settled.”

  “Nothing is settled between us, either, but I find nothing to worry at in that.”

  Ben thought about this for a
moment. “We’re…different. And we’re adults. Or at least, one of us is.”

  “And she can be the same, I think—different.”

  “She’s only thirteen, Nikolas. She may be thinking—or wanting—something else. I think she sees you as family, now. Safety, security. That’s all.”

  Nikolas glanced up at the sky, squinting at the sun, apparently deep in thought for a moment. He slipped on his dark sunglasses. Ben could no longer see his eyes. “Perhaps that is how it should be. We can make our own destinies in life and we can make our own families—conscious decisions.” He began to stroll towards the marquee then murmured, “I am very happy with my current choices.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Still smarting slightly from being beaten at archery, Nikolas spent the rest of the day at the fair annoying Ben to cheer himself up. Ben was less able to retaliate away from home, more his old deferential, easy-going self, so he was an undemanding target for all of Nikolas’s helpful observations. Irritated still more with the auction results, he had plans for thousand-pound Benjamin Rider-Mikkelsen when they returned to the hotel room that would remind him of his place in the scheme of things. He was startled, therefore, as they left Ulyana Ivanovna at her room and entered theirs to find himself flattened against the closed door, key still dangling from his hand, before he even had time to speak.

  Ben seized Nikolas’s face and opened Nikolas’s mouth up with his tongue, seeking, demanding. Nikolas responded, jolted from a lazy, amused mood, thinking about taking Ben down a peg or two, to an immediate, overwhelming need for him. Ben ground himself all along Nikolas’s sharp angles and hard planes, eliciting a groan of delight, letting out a held breath and looking down to where their hips met. He pressed on, harder, grabbed Nikolas’s neck and brought their mouths back together. “I was picturing you naked when you were shooting the arrows.”

  Nikolas smiled into the kiss, biting Ben’s lip gently at this confession. He hadn’t sensed any such thoughts from Ben at all, but then he had been a little distracted.