WINTER
Chapter 1
The two identical envelopes dropped through the letterbox of Smithy Cottage. Hazel picked them up, looked at the names on each, looked at the postmarks, felt her heart sinking; they had known they were coming, but not the day, not the minute the memories would have to be faced again.
She carried them through to the kitchen, dropping them onto the table in front of Paddy, avoiding the breadboard laden with his toast.
"From the court," she said abruptly, leaning against the worktop. "Do you think we should tell the boys now or wait until they get back tonight?"
"Where's Jackson working?" asked Paddy, feeling flustered, put suddenly on the spot.
"Out Robblesfield way somewhere, I think," replied Hazel; picking up a mug, putting it down again. "It would mean phoning him."
"I think we should leave them," said Paddy, turning away from the table to face Hazel. "A few hours won't make any difference, and it's a day less…" he left the unsaid words hanging in the air, fading into nothingness.
"Yes," agreed Hazel, "best to leave them. Even a few hours, that's good. Aaron…?"
"I don't know," said Paddy, concern etched plain on his face. "He doesn't say anything to me."
Hazel pursed her lips, shook her head to herself; it was so unfair, dragging them back there when in all likelihood – when they all hoped against hope – she corrected herself, they would not have to appear in court.
It had been hanging over their heads like the proverbial Sword of Damocles since their return from holiday two months earlier; a holiday when Aaron had been beaten unconscious in a vicious, homophobic attack, defending his boyfriend, Jackson.
In Scotland, when she and Paddy had rushed to be with them, they had found Jackson, shaken but seeming to cope; they had found Aaron emotionally fragile, but desperate not to admit that fragility. Neither lad had spoken, at least to them, about it since their return.
There had been an emotional outburst between Aaron and Chas, his mother, upon their return; misunderstandings, long-time hurts coming to the surface, threatening to poison the remnants of their relationship. Yet somehow, with a bit if help, a bit of persuasion, they were trying to build a new relationship. They still had a long way to go.
"So we'll leave them, then. Yes?" questioned Hazel, seeking reassurance.
"Yes. I think so. Don't you? Yes, definitely." Paddy dithered, unsure.
"Right then!" said Hazel decisively, sweeping the envelopes up from the table, depositing them on the work top, propped up against the bread bin, leaving them to draw their eyes, dominate the room with their brooding presence for the rest of the day.
….
They were the first things Aaron saw when he got in from his work that afternoon; striding into the kitchen, heading to the sink to wash his hands, his eye was caught by their prominence, their display. Usually any letters were left in an untidy pile in the living room to be discovered eventually by the recipient. These were on show, waiting, needing to be found, ominously loud in the quiet of the kitchen.
Aaron looked at them, filled with sudden dread, not wanting to touch them, not wanting to make them real, not wanting to be forced back, forced to remember. A strange lurching, twisting knot wrenched through his stomach, coldness engulfed his body despite the comfortable warmth of the kitchen. He knew what they were; what they could only be; he didn't want to touch them.
The house seemed to be empty, no noise came from the surgery, no help, no rescue; his eyes didn't move from the two envelopes, he sat at the table, waiting.
Waiting; how long for he didn't know, couldn't guess.
The door slammed; only one person couldn't help but slam the door behind himself; Jackson! But still Aaron couldn't tear his eyes away from the two envelopes, not even to turn, to welcome his lover.
Jackson saw his unmoving back, even before he was fully in the room he sensed the tension around Aaron; standing behind him, both hands found his shoulders, rubbing firmly, before he leant forward, dropping a kiss onto his spiky hair.
"Tell me," said Jackson quietly, continuing to rub Aaron's shoulders, rub away the knot of tension he could feel running through Aaron's body to his fingers.
Aaron lifted one hand to his shoulder, let it rest on top of Jackson's hand, clasped his fingers through Jackson's lower ones. Still silent, he nodded towards the brooding malevolent presence, the envelopes.
"Court?" Jackson asked it as a question, but it was a statement, he knew as well as Aaron what it was, like all of them, he had been waiting for them; expecting them. "You've not opened yours?" He moved awkwardly, leaving his clasped hand in Aarons grip, leaning to pick up both envelopes.
"I couldn't..." Aaron shook his head; a small, dispirited movement, all the remembered pain and anguish flooding through him, taking him back.
"We know what's in it; it'll just be the date," Jackson said firmly, rationally, ignoring the churning beginning to twist deep within him. Reclaiming his hand he slid into the chair next to Aaron's, looking at the two envelopes held in his hands; willing himself to just rip one open.
His hands were shaking. Were his hands really shaking? Suddenly, surprising himself, he did it, he ripped the top on his named envelope.
His eyes flicked down the single page, hardly registering the words, looking only for one thing, one vital thing; the date.
"Second of December," he said, looking over to Aaron. "You gonna open yours?"
Wordlessly Aaron shook his head, his mind was reeling, working out how far away the second of December was, working out how long he would have to live with the anticipation, the dread. Six weeks, almost six weeks, maybe less; he wasn't sure, he couldn't count, couldn't think straight.
Jackson picked up the second envelope, the one with Aaron's name typed on the front.
"Shall I?" he asked.
Aaron nodded still not wanting to touch the letter, still not wanting to let it be real.
Jackson tore open the second letter; he laid it flat on the table, beside his own letter, twins, almost identical save the two names.
Leaving them, he stood, held out his hand to Aaron. "Mum and Paddy might be back at any time, let's go upstairs, I could do with a hug."
With a small, tight smile barely touching his lips, Aaron clasped Jackson's hand, stood, and let himself be led from the room, up the stairs, to their bedroom. Sitting on their bed, Jackson put his arm round his shoulder, pushed him backwards until they lay, Jackson curled around Aaron, holding him, letting him gather his nerve, put their new knowledge into perspective, into its place.
Relishing the strong arms of his boyfriend holding him, keeping him safe, Aaron felt the turmoil inside him begin to subside, fading to a dull ache, a tiny knot of anxiety locked away in the very core of him; a knot of anxiety that he expected to carry for the next six weeks.
As he felt him begin to relax in his arms, Jackson moved his hand against Aaron's side, tiny movements, his hands curved around the firm line of his flank, up and down, just an inch or so, before letting his hand stray further, rucking up his tee shirt, letting his fingertips find the first, thrilling touch of his skin, the first touch of his hard abdomen.
Aaron rolled round a little, cuddling closer, lifting his legs over Jackson's, trapping them, pulling them closer against his arse, snuggling in. He looked up into Jackson's warm chocolate brown eyes, seeing the concern reflected in them.
"Sorry," he said "just freaked me out for a bit there. Daft, I knew they were coming."
"It's okay," said Jackson, smiling down at him. "We could both do without it. But hopefully it will be over in one day, two at most. Could stay up after if you want, a bit of a holiday?"
"In Scotland? In December? Not in the van?" Aaron looked at his boyfriend, wondering if he had gone slightly mad.
"No, not in the van," laughed Jackson. "But we could rent somewhere afterwards, for a week. We'll be alright for money; there's been plenty of overtime recently, for both of us and still time to save. What d'you reckon?"
"I think that is a very good idea," Aaron smiled up at him, lifted his head slightly, very slightly, a hint.
Jackson took the hint, he lowered his head, shifting his position allowing his lips to meet Aaron's, touching lightly, teasing anticipation, tasting the familiar taste of his lover's mouth as his tongue flicked, gently pushing between Aaron's lips, feeling them open in response, tongue meeting tongue. Deeper, hunger fuelling their rising desire, Jackson moved, stretching until he was almost lying on top of Aaron, his hands clasped either side of his face, holding him, pulling him close, deepening their kiss all the while letting his hips push against those below him, aware of the firm, muscular body, feeling the rapid stirring of excitement.
Pausing, easing back to catch his breath, he looked down at Aaron, he smiled, receiving an answering smile, an invitation reaching from his lips to his blue eyes. Holding Aaron's eyes, letting the tip of his tongue slowly lick his own lips; he slid one hand down to Aaron's hip, slid inside his trackkies and boxers, easing the material low, lower, shifting his own body to allow Aaron to lift his arse as the lowering garments released his growing cock. Returning his lips to Aaron's, Jackson let his fingers stray to Aaron's hard cock, teasing, feather light touches, just until he felt Aaron's shuddering groan of desire beneath him, betraying his need, urging him on. Gripping his shaft harder, Jackson began to move his hand up and down, finding his rhythm, feeling it being reflected in the subtle movement of Aaron's body. He could feel his hand getting sticky with leaking juice, juice he didn't want to waste; he moved, sliding lower down the bed, moving his lips close to Aaron's jutting cock, kissing, letting his tongue gently lick his slit, teasing it, tasting him. Quickly, urgently, he took the length of Aaron's cock into his mouth, swallowing, moving his mouth up and down; up and down...suddenly Aaron's hands gripped Jackson's shoulders, held him as his hips thrust, harder, harder, betraying his need as he fucked Jackson's face, satisfying himself until he came, filling Jackson's mouth with cock and cum.
Even as he collapsed back onto the bed, his breath coming in gasps, Jackson pushed him, rolling him over, wanting, needing, his own satisfaction. Unzipping, pushing his jeans from his legs, he let his hands rub Aaron's butt cheeks, harder as he felt Aaron begin to push back against him, heard a breathy groan escape from his lips half hidden in the bedcovers. Going down, Jackson began tonguing Aaron's tight hole, his mouth still wet with Aaron's cum, licking, teasing, feeling it tense, contract, relax in anticipation, in need. He slid a finger easily in, full in, pushed, pushed again, let another join it, stretching, preparing for the moment he slid his own rigid cock in, just a little at first, just a little until he could hold back no longer, animal need taking over all his senses, he entered him fully, thrusting, pounding deeper and deeper, harder and harder until he came, exploding in his head and cock, his world bursting into stars.
Desire satisfied, he rolled from Aaron's back, lay, his eyes closed, catching his breath. Aaron hitched his trackkies up, turned towards Jackson, lying on his side, one hand supporting his head; he gazed admiringly at Jackson's naked lower half, let his fingers trail lightly over his thigh before moving closer...
Jackson caught his fingers before they reached their destination. He smiled, deflecting the challenge, the invitation in Aaron's gaze.
"We should get back downstairs," he murmured, "they won't be much longer. And they'll want to talk. About the letters."
Aaron moved his hand, curled into Jackson's arms. "Five minutes, then we'll move."
Downstairs, the front door banged closed.