“Amen to that.”
“So nobody else knows you’re gay?”
“No,” Asher said, wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead, aware that he was uncomfortable with such direct questions but knowing it was making him feel better finally getting it all off his chest.
“Why not? You don’t think your family would approve?” Diane asked, passing him his glass. Asher took it and gulped half down, and Diane raised an eyebrow.
“I guess they might be all right with it,” Asher said, shrugging, licking his lips. “But I don’t want to risk telling them. They might throw me out, disown me, anything. I don’t want to lose them, not when I don’t have anyone else.”
“You don’t have your eye on anyone then?”
Asher thought of Carl and how much he wanted to be with him.
“Not really,” Asher said, shaking his head.
Whilst he was grateful to have Diane to talk to, he didn’t want to admit the whole truth to her. It would change things between him and Carl, if Diane knew the depth of Asher’s feelings for him.
Diane looked suspicious but had a drink and didn’t press the subject further.
“I won’t say anything to anyone, but you should consider telling people. They might not take it as bad as you think, and you can’t live a lie your whole life, it isn’t right.”
“What if they reject me?” Asher asked.
He was aware that he was asking about his family, but also about Carl. Diane considered the question for a moment before responding.
“If they reject you just because you’re gay, then they’re not worth it anyway, mate.”
* * *
Charley lay in Bolton’s arms listening to his gentle snores and watching his smooth chest rise and fall in time with his breathing.
She was content and sleepy, comfortable with his arm wrapped around her waist and one of his legs entangled within hers.
For an hour, Bolton had transported Charley to a world of pleasure, but now that it was over her thoughts returned, clear and sharper than before.
Bolton’s pupils had been small dots in his beautiful eyes and his body had been tense, his movements quick and agile.
Although she was no expert, she knew that he had taken something whilst spending time with Dante. Probably coke or a few pills, but knowing Dante, it could have been almost anything.
The thought didn’t disturb her much, but Charley knew that Bolton wouldn’t have been tempted if it wasn’t for him being with Dante and listening to his deluded reasoning about drug use and how it never harmed anyone.
Part of her wanted to forget it all and drift into sleep, where she was free from thinking about it and could wake up tomorrow relaxed and happy. The other part of her wanted to wake Bolton up and insist he not spend so much time with his best mate.
It was unreasonable, she knew, but she couldn’t help herself. She didn’t want to stop Bolton from seeing his mates, but if he couldn’t be trusted to behave sensibly then what other choice did she have? When she spent time with Leigh-Ann, they chatted and maybe had a few drinks; they didn’t risk everything by snorting lines and dropping pills.
Bolton stirred beside her and nestled against her, his body warm against hers and his gentle breathing soothing against her neck.
She closed her eyes and decided she would see how she felt in the morning. It was too late and she was too tired to make any rash decisions now. If in the morning she still had the same doubts, she would broach the subject with Bolton and deal with it then.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Charley looked around the flat and knew that this was the place she wanted to make her home. Standing beside her, Leigh-Ann seemed equally impressed.
“You think this is the one?” Leigh-Ann asked, turning to face her.
Charley nodded, surveying the wooden floors and large windows in the lounge. The view wasn’t great, the only landmarks in sight being her mother’s block of flats and the rest of the Goldsworth estate spread out like a concrete stain beyond, mirroring the bleak grey sky above. Still, the two bedrooms were spacious and airy, the kitchen was modern and free of cockroaches, and the bathrooms were clean and without any leaks.
“This is the place,” Charley said. “It’s perfect.”
The estate agent walked over, her hair pulled into a tight bun and a clipboard under her arm, hardly able to contain the smile on her face.
“Would you like to make an offer?” she asked, looking between them.
Charley wanted to say a resounding ‘yes’ but she wanted to consult Bolton first. Even though he had told her that the decision was up to her, she wanted him involved in the process. He had gone off to work with Dante, leaving her to attend the viewing alone. Luckily, Leigh-Ann had phoned a few minutes later and Charley had persuaded her to join the search, with the offer of letting her organise the housewarming party when they found the right place.
“I’ll have to check with my boyfriend,” Charley said, casting an apologetic look at the estate agent and ignoring the look of disapproval that crossed Leigh-Ann’s face. “I’ll ring him now, see if he can get some time off and come and check this place out.”
“Very well,” the estate agent nodded, and retreated.
“Didn’t he tell you that it was up to you?” Leigh-Ann asked, lips pursed.
“Yeah, but he’ll be living here too. It feels wrong to put an offer in without even asking him first.”
“What if he doesn’t want to be disturbed?”
“He can make time to come see this flat,” Charley said.
Leigh-Ann looked doubtful but remained silent.
Charley pulled out her phone and rang Bolton. He picked up on the last ring, sounding impatient.
“I’m at work,” he said, the frustration barely controlled. “In an important meeting, can’t this wait?”
“I’ve found the place,” Charley said, ignoring his tone. “You have to come see, it’s amazing. Two bedrooms and an ensuite bathroom. And the lounge has –”
“Listen, babe, that’s great. You should put in an offer.”
“Don’t you want to come and see it?” Charley said, struggling to keep the disappointment out of her voice.
“I would love to, but I can’t. I’m busy with work.”
“What if I put an offer in and you don’t like it?”
“I will like it,” Bolton said, “I trust your judgement. Now I’ve got to go, but put an offer in if you like it so much.”
Charley was about to say goodbye when Bolton hung up. Charley dropped her phone back into her bag feeling annoyed at the dismissal.
“What did he say?” Leigh-Ann asked.
The estate agent drew closer but remained at a distance, not wanting to intrude.
“He said I should put an offer in,” Charley said.
“Excellent,” the estate agent said, stepping forward and consulting her clipboard. “Would you like me to do it all now, or would you rather come back to the office?”
“Might as well do it here,” Charley said, shrugging. “Save on the taxi fare.”
The estate agent nodded, covering her grimace by plastering a phony smile on her face. Leigh-Ann was looking around the room, as if looking for a fault they had not yet discovered. Charley heaved her handbag up onto her shoulder and listened as the estate agent explained what happened next.
* * *
“Did you put a deposit down?” Toni asked, scrubbing the dishes in the sink, throwing specks of foamy water up her arms.
Charley sat down at the kitchen table and groaned.
“Not yet, the estate agent said we’ll hear back from them soon. They’ve got to sort it all out with the landlord first.”
“What’s there to sort out?” Toni asked, frowning at her over her shoulder. “You’ve offered to pay the deposit, that should be it sorted.”
“I don’t know mum, they said there are other things to consider.”
“Like what?”
“I guess they want to make sur
e we pass credit checks and stuff,” Charley answered, feeling tired and irritable after an afternoon spent with the estate agent and her clipped tones and fake smile. “Make sure we can afford the rent each month.”
Toni was quiet for a moment and Charley leaned back in her chair, making the wood creak in protest.
“You don’t have to leave,” she said. Charley looked up in surprise, but Toni still had her back to her, the water still splashing in the sink as she washed up. “If you stayed here you could save your money and focus on the baby. That should be your priority.”
Charley considered her mother’s words. They seemed fair enough on the surface, but she knew that there must be an ulterior motive.
“You just don’t want me moving in with Bolton. You don’t care about saving me money; you just want me to stay here where you can keep bossing me about and make sure I don’t spend too much time with my boyfriend.”
Toni turned to face her, her look stony and her eyes round with anger.
“Can you blame me? That boy is no good for you, I can see that even if you can’t,” she said, flecks of spit pooling in the corners of her mouth. “And no good will come from you two sharing a flat, he’ll just corrupt you even more.”
“And you think me staying here will be good for me?” Charley asked, her voice raised. “I get a headache every five minutes when I’m here. I can’t move for people, and the bathroom is like bloody Waterloo Station, the amount of people in and out of there.”
“You think you can cope with living with a boy, do you? You just wait until you have to do the cooking and cleaning, all whilst having a crying baby wanting attention. You’ll soon be wishing you’d listened to me then.”
“Is that you offering to help out with the baby then?” Charley asked, feeling the beginnings of a migraine at the base of her skull. “Because we both know you won’t lift a finger to help me out. Not unless there’s something in it for you, eh mum?”
“I’ve paid my dues, in case you hadn’t realised. I’ve raised you and three others, and you still expect me to pick up the pieces behind you. Now you want me to raise your baby as well? What did I do to deserve such an ungrateful brat? Dear God, what did I do?”
She put her hands up in prayer, the rubber of her Marigold gloves squeaking with the movement.
“I don’t want your help,” Charley said, raising her voice above Toni’s mumbled prayers, “Me and Bolton will be just fine, if only you’d stop interfering and leave us to it.”
Toni snapped out of her prayers and lowered her arms, her hands clenching into fists.
“You’d best hope this landlord lets you move in,” she said, a vein twitching in her forehead, “Because any much more of this and you’ll give me a coronary.”
Charley rose to her feet and left the room, slamming the kitchen door behind her. She heard a dish shatter against the wall in the kitchen and retreated to her bedroom. She collapsed onto her bed and closed her eyes.
She had thought that she would feel pleased, having found the flat of her dreams. Now she just felt irrationally upset that she was not yet living there. She had phoned Bolton and told him that they hadn’t let her put down the deposit and he had reassured her that they always consulted with the landlord first, but Charley didn’t entirely buy it.
On top of it all, Charley was still feeling frustrated with Bolton for spending so much time at work. She knew that it brought in good money and that it gave Bolton a sense of pride and respect, but she didn’t like that it meant he was spending even more time with Dante.
She had decided to quell her doubts over him and hadn’t told Bolton that she didn’t want him spending so much time with his best mate. After all, she had reasoned, she had no place to decide who he could or couldn’t spend time with. She would hate it if he tried to control her life, so she had no right in trying to control his.
Still, between Toni’s frequent mood swings and disapproval over everything she did and Bolton’s increasing work hours and time with Dante, Charley was feeling stressed out.
She took a few deep breaths and tried to calm herself down. She had been warned not to get so frustrated because it wasn’t good for the baby.
When she was feeling calmer, Charley returned to the kitchen to help Toni with the dishes and to ensure that she could remain at home until the landlord got back to them.
* * *
Asher walked into the pub feeling the knot in his stomach expand. His eyes took a few moments to adjust to the gloom of the room and he looked around, spotting Carl sitting at a table with two bar stools at the back of the room.
He waved and Carl nodded in his direction. Asher ordered a pint of beer and waited for the barman to pour it, glancing occasionally at his friend. Carl was wearing his usual attire of jeans and T-shirt, unwinding after a day of patrolling the streets.
The barman handed him his pint and Asher paid, before taking the stool across the table from Carl.
“I was wondering what took you so long,” Carl said, glancing at his watch. “Was starting to think you might have gotten roped into another date with Diane.”
Asher grinned and shook his head. After their date, Asher and Diane had both remained tight-lipped about what had happened and the others had gradually grown tired of asking them, shifting their attention to other things and forgetting all about it.
Except, it seemed, for Carl.
“So how are things going with you two?” he asked, looking inquiringly at Asher.
“I told you already, nothing happened.”
“Yeah, but that was in front of the other guys,” Carl said, sipping his pint. “Now it’s just the two of us, I thought you might tell me. We’re mates, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, we are,” Asher nodded. “But I’m being serious, nothing happened.”
“She weren’t up for it then?” Carl asked, shaking his head. “That’s a damn shame. She seemed well into you when you asked her out.”
“I guess she changed her mind.”
“There’s not a second date lined up then?”
“Nope,” Asher said. “How are things with you anyway?”
Carl laughed, spilling some beer onto the tablemat beneath his glass.
“I see what you’re trying to do, changing the subject and all that,” Carl said, mopping up the mess he had made with a tissue. “But fair enough, nobody likes to talk about how they got dumped.”
“I didn’t get dumped,” Asher said, feeling indignant. “It was a mutual decision.”
“Yeah, whatever you say. Anyway, things are going all right with me. Clare’s folks came down and that was hell, but we’re getting back to normal.”
Asher felt his face fall and fought to keep smiling.
“That’s good to hear,” he managed.
“I mean, we’re out of the honeymoon stage,” Carl continued. “But things are getting better. We’re talking properly, which is a start, I guess.”
Asher nodded, trying not to look too pleased for himself.
* * *
Toni sat in the lounge and watched Charley as she flicked through the television channels. They had reached a truce, of sorts, after their earlier argument. Now they sat in silence, the television the only sound in the room, and Toni tried to focus on her newspaper.
The phone rang in the hallway and Charley jumped out of her seat and ran to pick it up. Toni knew why. She was hoping it was a call from the estate agents. It wouldn’t be Bolton, who knew better than to ring the house phone when Toni was home. And anyway, he always rang Charley’s mobile, where Toni couldn’t monitor what was said between the couple.
“It’s for you mum,” Charley said, sticking her head around the door, the phone in her hand, covering the mouthpiece. “I’m not sure who it is, but they say it’s important.”
“Tell them to call back,” Toni said.
Charley mumbled something into the phone and looked back up at her.
“They say it’s really important,” she said, grimacing.
Toni groaned and rose to her feet. She snatched up the phone and waited whilst Charley retreated to the lounge before raising the phone to her ear, twisting the cord in her hand.
“Toni Brunns speaking,” she said, “Who’s calling?”
She kept her voice blunt and unfriendly. She wanted to make it clear that she had been disturbed and wasn’t in the mood for social niceties.
“It’s Nathaniel,” a man’s deep, gruff voice said. “Did you get the letters I sent?”
Toni felt the air catch in her chest. He had gotten her phone number. She had known it was only a matter of time, but she had been hoping that he would have given up already.
“Are you still there?” Nathaniel said, his voice crackling down the line. “We have to talk.”
“Sorry, you have the wrong number,” Toni said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
Nathaniel began to speak, but Toni dropped the phone back into its cradle. She took a few deep breaths and put a hand to the wall to steady herself.
A few moments later, she returned to her armchair in the lounge and Charley looked up at her, curiosity in her eyes.
“Who was it?” she asked.
“Wrong number,” Toni said.
“But they asked for you,” Charley said, her forehead creasing in confusion. “How could it have been –”
“It was a wrong number,” Toni reiterated, her voice stern now.
Charley still looked suspicious but didn’t say anything else, returning her gaze to the television. Toni watched her for a moment, before opening the newspaper. She knew her daughter had doubts, but hopefully that would be the last of it. She would never suspect the truth.
But Toni knew that time was running out. He had gotten her phone number and he knew her address. She could control things at the moment, but if he turned up at the flat, matters would be taken out of her hands and she couldn’t allow that to happen.
* * *
Asher followed Carl out of the pub and stood for a moment, savouring the fresh air and cool breeze that whipped across his face.
“You need a ride back home?” Carl asked, zipping up his jacket against the cold.
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