The Goldsworth Series Box Set

by Davie J Toothill

  “Talking of guys taking responsibility, have you arranged to meet your dad again?” Leigh-Ann asked, snapping Charley out of her thoughts.

  Charley shook her head.

  “Why not? I thought you got along with him.”

  “Yeah, I did,” Charley said, relaxing some now that they were off the subject of Bolton. “I just don’t want him to feel pressured into meeting me. It’s best if we take things slow. It’s been so long, I don’t want to scare him off.”

  Leigh-Ann rolled her eyes.

  “You worry too much,” she said. “Your dad wouldn’t have gotten in touch if he hadn’t wanted a relationship. And as for pressuring him, hell, I figure he owes you. He ain’t been there for you your whole life, he deserves to feel a bit of pressure.”

  Charley nodded. She loved Leigh-Ann, but sometimes she only saw things in black and white. She didn’t realise that some things were in a grey area, and that caution and concern were important. Leigh-Ann blazed through life doing what she wanted, keeping resolute and unmoveable in her opinions. Charley was pleased for her, but she couldn’t help being more considerate of others.

  “You should ring him,” Leigh-Ann continued. “If nothing else, it’ll give your mum something else to complain about.”

  Charley smiled. It was almost worth seeing her father just for that.

  “She was round at mine the other day, chatting to my mum. She gave me the third degree, trying to find out if you were planning on seeing him again.”

  “Did you tell her?” Charley asked.

  “No way, I just let her think the worst,” Leigh-Ann said, letting out a laugh. “You should have seen the look on her face. Anyway, she was telling my mum how she thought it was a bad idea. She wouldn’t stop going on about it for ages. In the end, my mum only got her to stop when she changed the subject to you and Bolton.”

  Charley laughed, but her thoughts returned to Bolton. She wondered what he was doing and what was bothering him.

  “Did he say where he was going when he went out?” she asked.

  Leigh-Ann shrugged.

  “Probably out at work,” Charley said, more to herself than Leigh-Ann.

  “Are you sure that he’s always at work?”

  Charley was surprised by the question. She looked at Leigh-Ann, eyes narrowed, but her friend didn’t elaborate.

  “What else would he be doing?” she asked, still watching her closely.

  Leigh-Ann shifted uncomfortably.

  “Leigh-Ann, if you’ve heard something then I have a right to know.”

  “It’s just a rumour. It’s probably not even true, you know how people like to talk shit around here. Anyone gets happy, and someone tries to stir up trouble.”

  “Spit it out,” Charley said.

  She watched Leigh-Ann and felt her stomach lurch. She wanted to know what was being said about her, but at the same time she dreaded what she would hear. Even if it wasn’t true, the thought would plant itself in her mind and she didn’t want to add more problems to her ever-growing list.

  “Well, I was talking to a girl from school a couple of days ago and she said that she heard through her boyfriend that Bolton was, well, playing away from home.”

  Charley’s breath caught in her chest. She was shocked. She had considered the possibility, of course, but she had never given it much thought. She trusted Bolton too much and she didn’t want to strain her relationship by worrying about his faithfulness, not when he was working so hard to support her and the baby.

  “Like I said, it’s probably just some stupid rumour,” Leigh-Ann said quickly, looking uncomfortable at Charley’s expression. “I wouldn’t pay any attention to it.”

  “Did this girl say anything else?” Charley asked, trying to keep her voice as normal as she could, when she wanted to scream.

  Leigh-Ann took a moment to think. Charley tried to hide how anxious she was, folding her hands into her lap.

  “I don’t think so,” Leigh-Ann said, shaking her head. Charley sighed. Leigh-Ann sat up straight and her eyes widened. “Actually, I do remember something else. She said something about not understanding why he was seeing the other girl, because she was a right pig apparently. Some girl who’s boyfriend’s locked up.”

  Charley’s mind raced. She remembered the New Year’s Eve party, when she had been cornered by Sapphire Cortez. She had told her, in slurred words, that her boyfriend was in prison and that she missed him desperately. Straining to remember more, Charley closed her eyes. She could remember offering her sympathies to her and Sapphire had laughed, saying something about finding a temporary replacement until he got out.

  Then Bolton had joined them and Sapphire had fallen quiet and left soon after. Charley had thought nothing of it at the time, but Bolton had obviously known her previously. It wasn’t unexpected, as she was Dante’s cousin and Bolton spent so much time with him. Nevertheless, Charley felt her heart flutter in her chest.

  Sapphire was a big girl and all the pieces seemed to fit. Unless somebody had seen them talking and assumed that they were up to no good, when the truth was that nothing untoward had been going on.

  She opened her eyes and found Leigh-Ann looking at her in concern.

  “Are you all right?” Leigh-Ann asked, leaning forwards. “Look, I shouldn’t have said anything. That girl I spoke to, she’s a right liar; she probably made it up to sound important. Stupid bitch. I know I ain’t exactly a big fan of Bolton, but I don’t think he’d cheat on you. He’s just not that kind of guy.”

  “I know.”

  Leigh-Ann still looked concerned, but Charley forced herself to smile at her and had another drink. Leigh-Ann soon started talking about something else, but Charley’s mind remained on what she had heard. She didn’t want to believe that Bolton had been unfaithful, but now that it was in her mind she couldn’t shake the thought.

  Their relationship had been strained recently, but that didn’t mean he was cheating on her. She thought about the times he had come home late and had showered before he got into bed with her. They took on a frightening new meaning, and Charley swallowed hard.

  * * *

  Asher waited at the pub, a pint in his hand, and kept checking his watch. He was feeling nervous and he tried to focus on the news on the small television in the corner, but he felt too distracted and returned his eyes to the entrance.

  Carl arrived five minutes later, stressed out and looking dishevelled. Asher sat, barely containing his patience, whilst Carl went to the bar and got a drink. When he had taken the seat at his table, Asher leaned forward.

  “How did it go?” he asked.

  Carl sighed and took a drink from his pint.

  “I told Clare everything,” he said, sounding worn out. “At first, I thought I’d just tell her I wasn’t happy, but she wasn’t having any of it. She kept saying how she’d given up so much for me and she needed a better reason. She started shouting, accusing me of having an affair. Then she threatened to ring up work and start asking questions, and I just let it all out.”

  Asher’s eyes widened. Carl closed his eyes, remembering the confrontation. Asher took his hand and rubbed it, and a flicker of a smile appeared on Carl’s face.

  “Did you tell her about me? About us?”

  Carl nodded.

  “Yeah, all of it. She just kept shouting and I couldn’t take it anymore. I said I was leaving her because I was gay. She kind of froze. Then it all came pouring out. About you, about how I tried not to think about you, and then about what happened whilst she was away.”

  “I bet that didn’t go down too well,” Asher said.

  “She handled it well, considering,” Carl said, his voice going quiet. Asher knew that he was upset, and gave him a reassuring nod to continue. “She just kind of crumpled after that. I think she realised that it really was over. I mean, she knew that we couldn’t be together after I’d told her I was gay. She wasn’t happy that I already had a boyfriend, though.”

  “Is she angry?”

/>   “She was, for a little while. Then she started crying. I knelt down beside her and tried to tell her we could still be friends and that I’d never meant to hurt her, but she wasn’t ready for that. When I told her I wanted a divorce, she just nodded. By then, I think she’d heard enough and if I hadn’t asked for one, I bet she would have.”

  “She agreed to the divorce then?” Asher asked, feeling his excitement build.

  Carl nodded. He smiled at Asher’s evident relief and stroked the back of his hand, taking another drink.

  “Yeah, she agreed. I said that we didn’t have to sort anything out just yet, that we just needed to separate, but she wants a quickie divorce. She’s going to a lawyer tomorrow to file. I guess she’ll sight irreconcilable differences. Anyway, I felt bad because she’d been crying so I said she could stay at the flat. She said it’d make her more depressed and packed up her stuff. She’s still packing now, but she said she’ll be gone in an hour or so.”

  “She’s moving out?” Asher asked, surprised.

  He had been expecting a vicious divorce struggle. He felt guilty for Clare’s suffering, but he knew that if they had kept quiet, it would have only prolonged her misery.

  “Yeah, her sister’s driving down from Kent with the car to take her stuff back,” Carl said, and Asher could tell he was feeling bad. “Clare’s been going on about moving back to Kent for months now. She never liked London much and all her family’s back there. She should be all right. Once she gets over the shock I think she’ll be fine.”

  “The hard part’s done with now,” Asher said. “Now she knows the truth, she can move forward with her life. There wasn’t any point in staying married, not if there was no future in it. And now you’re free to move on too. We can be a proper couple now.”

  “I know, I just feel guilty,” he said, looking down at his hands. “I should never have married her. I’ve put her through all that for nothing. She’s right, I am a bastard.”

  “No you’re not. You were confused. I was confused, too.”

  “You never married a woman, though,” Carl sighed. “Even though you weren’t attracted to her. Even though you thought you liked guys more.”

  “No,” Asher admitted. “But I tried to be with women. I had a girlfriend. We all make mistakes when we’re confused. The important thing is that you’ve put it right now.”

  Carl nodded. He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t look so downcast.

  “You did the right thing,” Asher said. “The bad bits are finished with now. It’s time to be happy.”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Carl said, his voice quiet. Asher leaned forward, caught off guard. “Now that Clare’s gone, and I’ve got the flat to myself, I was wondering if you wanted to move in with me.”

  Asher looked at him, wondering if he had misheard him. Carl was looking at him expectantly, his eyes now uncertain. Asher struggled for words, clasping his hand.

  “Yeah,” he said, choking on his own words. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

  Carl beamed and Asher could see the relief washing over him. He found it hard to believe that just a few months ago his feelings for Carl had been a well kept secret, known only in his night time fantasies. Now they were moving in together and everything seemed so perfect.

  After they had finished their drinks, they walked back to the flat. Asher stopped at the corner shop to buy a bottle of cheap champagne so that they could celebrate. Thoughts of Clare and her misery left Asher’s mind as they rounded the corner.

  “I can’t see Clare’s sister’s car anywhere,” Carl said, sounding relieved. “I guess that means she’s gone already.”

  Asher held his hand, knowing that it would take a while before Carl could lay his guilt to rest. He didn’t approve of everything they had done, Asher had to admit, but he knew that it had been for the best. Now they could all move on with their lives and find happiness.

  Carl led him up the few steps to the front door. The lights on the third floor were all out and Asher was reassured that Clare had left. The door swung open.

  “I’ll have to get you a key cut,” Carl said, turning back to him. “If you’re moving in.”

  “I can bring my stuff round tomorrow if you want.”

  Carl laughed.

  “You’re keen to get out of your mum’s house,” he said.

  “Do you blame me?”

  They both laughed. Asher could see that a weight had been lifted from Carl’s shoulders and felt pleased for him. He glanced around and the street was quiet. A few cars drove past and a few shoppers trudged along the pavement, but nobody was paying any attention to them. He took Carl’s face in his hands and kissed him. Carl was surprised, but he relaxed into him and their kiss deepened. Asher felt brave, his feelings for Carl outweighing the fear that people would find out that he was gay.

  Asher pulled away from him and they went inside, both feeling confident and emboldened by their first public kiss.

  * * *

  Across the road, Charley was in shock. She found it hard to believe what she had just witnessed. Beside her, Leigh-Ann was quiet, just as surprised as she was. They had been walking to the tube station so Leigh-Ann could get the train home. Charley had spotted her brother and been about to call out to him when he had stuck his tongue down the other man’s throat.

  The door to the terrace house closed and a few moments later, lights went on in the third floor. The white drapes were closed so Charley couldn’t see who lived there, but she guessed that Asher and the man he had been kissing were up there.

  She shuddered. Her brother might not have shown much of an interest in having girlfriends, but she, like everyone else, had just assumed that he was focusing on his career and that he had not yet met the right woman.

  Now it all fitted together. The fact that he’d never been seen with a girlfriend and the fact that he had never really been comfortable living on the estate. Charley couldn’t blame him. Being gay on their estate was tantamount to a death wish.

  She briefly wondered at the man he had been kissing, but she had no clue. She didn’t want to know. She would have thought her brother had been forced into it, if she had not seen that he had been the one to initiate the kiss.

  Leigh-Ann shifted beside her and Charley turned to look at her. She looked embarrassed, and Charley couldn’t blame her. She had once walked in on Leigh-Ann’s parents kissing and that had been bad. This was a hundred times worse than that.

  “Don’t say a word to anybody,” Charley said, trying to block out the shining lights from the third floor flat.

  Leigh-Ann murmured her agreement, still looking shocked. They began walking down the road in uncomfortable silence. Charley knew that she would have to talk to her brother about this. Her mind was reeling and all thoughts of Bolton had been replaced by worries about her brother and his choice of lifestyle.

  * * *

  Bolton paused with his hand raised to knock on the front door of Uncle Jasper’s flat. He just had to remain calm, he told himself. He was about to knock when his phone rang.

  “I spoke to Sapphire,” Dante said, when Bolton answered. “The police had been round, but she didn’t say anything about the fight. She was scared. She doesn’t want any trouble and she knows that the best thing to do is keep her mouth shut.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. She was in a right state. The police reckon it was someone he met inside that killed him. Anyway, it looks like you’re in the clear.”

  Bolton felt the relief wash over him. He thanked Dante and put his phone into his pocket. He knocked on the door and felt a renewed confidence. Now he could tell Uncle Jasper that he was in the clear and there would be no more problems.

  The door was opened by Ritchie. He looked stressed and Bolton avoided his glare, following him through the flat and into Uncle Jasper’s office.

  He was sitting behind his desk on the phone. He waved Bolton over and finished his conversation, hanging up as Bolton sat down in front of
him. Ritchie shot him a suspicious look before retreating from the room.

  Uncle Jasper caught his look, and laughed.

  “Ritchie’s just feeling stressed out,” he said, nodding in the direction of the door. “I put him in charge of going over the books, and he doesn’t enjoy it much.”

  Bolton nodded, thinking that Ritchie showed a lot of nerve being so moody in front of his boss. Then again, they had been working together for years so Bolton guessed he got away with more.

  “Now what did you want to speak to me about?” Uncle Jasper asked, looking at Bolton, his gaze intense. “I presume this isn’t a social call.”

  “No, sir, it isn’t,” Bolton said, wondering how much Uncle Jasper had heard on the news, and whether he had been expecting the visit. “I don’t know if you’ve been listening to the news or not, but –”

  “Ah,” Uncle Jasper said, nodding his head. “I suppose you’re talking about Chris Germaine’s body turning up on Clapham Common.”

  Bolton nodded. He was surprised that Uncle Jasper had caught on so quickly, but then remembered that a lifetime at the top of his game meant he was a clever man.

  “I just wanted to let you know that I wasn’t involved,” Bolton said, feeling like a schoolboy in the headmaster’s office. “I don’t know why he got killed, or anything like that. I just thought you might think I had something to do with it. But I didn’t, I swear. Dante’s just been round to see his girlfriend, and she won’t say anything about the fight. And the police think that it was someone he pissed off in prison that killed him, so –”

  Uncle Jasper held his hand up. Bolton stopped talking. He knew he’d been rambling, but in his nerves the words had tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

  “I know that you weren’t involved,” he said, his voice serious. Bolton sighed with relief, feeling embarrassed. “For a start, I know you wouldn’t be stupid enough to kill someone you’d just had a public fight with. That would be irresponsible. And second, I know who killed Chris Germaine. You don’t have to worry.”