CHAPTER SEVEN
BRIAN
"Oh my God!" Lindsey gasps, helping Gus from the child seat in the back of the rental, staring up at the house. "Brian, it's absolutely beautiful!"
She'll get no arguments from me on that score. I'd fallen in love with the place on first sight even though it was the antithesis of every architectural inclination I had. The Loft – that's my style. Clean, modern, functional, minimal, designer. That's me – no frills, no fuss. Britin, on the other hand, is old, sprawling and impractical. I'd only viewed it in the first place because of Justin's comment about waiting for the country manor of his dreams with stables and a tennis court. But the moment I'd stepped through the door and seen the mellow, gleaming wood panelling and flooring; the graceful, balustraded sweep of the staircase; the diamond paned glass of the mullion windows… somehow it had seemed like coming home. It was gracious without being pretentious, spacious but not ostentatiously so, masculine yet still welcoming. And I'd seen Justin everywhere: I'd pictured him stretched supine by the fireside, had caressed his flame-warmed skin in my imagination long before I'd ever touched it in reality. When I'd stood at the gable window of the master bedroom, gazing out over the sweep of frost-spangled lawn to the eldritch copse of naked winter trees beyond, it had been his eyes I'd been looking through. I saw him in the studio I'd ear-marked for him, the loft above the stables: raptly capturing those trees in all their seasons – the first growth of tender spring leaves, the deep shade of summer, the blaze of fall colour. I could see both of us living there, growing old there, safe beyond the casual reach of nosy friends and family.
But then, was it really so strange that Justin's ideal had appealed to me so strongly? After all, wasn't he himself the exact opposite to my usual taste in men … my slight, blond, blue-eyed boy who had bewitched and bedazzled me, who'd made me break every damn rule I'd ever had for his sake?
I've hated the thought of the house standing empty simply because I couldn't endure the prospect of facing my pathetic, failed hopes alone. I've had cleaners go in once a month to make sure everything's swept and dusted, but it's still a constant guilty presence in my mind: shrouded in sheets, silent and deserted, it's a little too much like fucking Sleeping Beauty's castle. Waiting for its Prince to come and bring it back to life … except the Prince in question was in permanent exile, because happy endings don't often happen in the real world.
I take the keys out of my coat pocket and look down at Gus; he's standing close to Linds, holding her hand tightly and eyeing the house doubtfully. "Who lives here, Dadda?" he asks.
"This is Britin, Sonny Boy," I tell him, unlocking the door. "It's my house … mine and Justin's."
"Juss!" His face lights up like a candle. "Where? Is he hiding?" And before Linds can grab him he's barrelling down the hall yelling "Juss! Juss!"
I go after him and pick him up. "He's not here, Gus. He's in New York."
"Where's that? Can we go see him?"
"Not today, Sonny Boy. It's a long way away."
"But I miss Juss," he says, his lip beginning to wobble. "If it's his house, why isn't he here? Why is he in Noo Yuck?"
Why, indeed? I bury my face in his hair, hiding my expression. "It's your house, too," I say, hoping to distract him. "And you can choose your own room and we'll decorate it however you want."
Linds is gazing around wonderingly. "Brian, I can't believe you kept this place. It must have cost a fortune."
"I was going to sell after we cancelled the wedding." I set Gus down and he begins to cautiously explore, lifting up dustsheets to peer underneath. I wonder if he's still hoping to find Justin hiding. "But then Babylon started to pick up, and the market wasn't good for selling, and besides, I had to have somewhere for Gus to stay when he visits."
She looks at me with a radiant smile.
"Of course, I haven't got round to furnishing it yet. But the kitchen's fully equipped, and there's basic furniture … a sofa and table and chairs and stuff. We'll have to get a TV … pots and pans and plates and cutlery. Towels and shit. And of course we'll have to fit out a couple of bedrooms. Do you think you can handle it at your parents for a week or so, until we can make the place habitable?"
"I think I can bite my tongue for a little longer. As long as you're sure, Brian … I mean, this house was for you and Justin."
"It was for Gus too. I always planned for him to stay here with us every summer. You promised, remember?"
She nods, her eyes shining. "I remember, Peter."
Gus has given up peeking under sheets and is now tugging at the leg of my pants. "Where's Mommie and J.R.?"
Linds lays her hand on his head. "I told you, Sweetie, Mommie's staying at home in Canada. We've come to visit your Daddy for a while."
He gazes up at me solemnly. "I don't like it here, Dadda. It's scary."
"That's only because everything's covered up and you're not used to it. It'll look much better the next time you see it, I promise."
"You didn't like our house in Canada when we first moved in, did you?" Linds says. "But once you made friends and got to know your way around, you loved it!"
"I haven't met the neighbours yet," I tell her. "But I'm sure there must be some kids around … if not, we can find out if there are any play groups. This is WASP homeland, after all … you'll fit right in. And you'll need to hang on to the rental car … I don't want you being stuck out here with no transport."
"Don't worry, Brian, Gus and I will find plenty to do. And anyway, you'll be coming down all the time, right?" Linds says happily. "I mean, weekends at least. You and Gus will be able to get to know each other properly!"
I look into her soft brown eyes and remind myself that she's going through a traumatic time right now – both she and Gus. I can't just dump her in the middle of nowhere with no friends or support and expect her to get on with it. I can handle that much responsibility, can't I? I smile back at her. "Sure. At least until you're settled."
"Oh, of course," she agrees quickly. "I know you're a busy man. I don't want to disrupt your life. Or upset your friend."
"Linds." I put my hands on her shoulders and kiss her forehead. "Gus is my son. I love you both. Of course I'll be here for you. It's not a problem." It isn't. And if Dan wants to make it one, he can suck it up and live with it. Or not.
She leans against me and hugs me, and I hug her back. Then I turn and hold my hand out to Gus. "Come on. Sonny Boy. Let's go and pick your room."
"This one, Dadda!" Gus yells, throwing himself onto the vast four poster and scrambling into the middle of it. I wanna sleep in this!"
"No, Gus," I say, going over to him. "You can have any other bedroom you want, but not this one."
His lip sticks out defiantly. "But I wanna sleep here. I want this bed! It's got curtains!" He demonstrates by grabbing the wine-red hangings and tugging them.
"Gus, listen." I put my arm round him. "This is my room … mine and Justin's. I bought this bed as a special present for him."
"Juss wouldn't mind!" Gus protests, tears beginning to flow. "Juss loves me!"
"Yes, he does," I tell him gently. "And maybe he wouldn't mind; only Justin isn't here and I am. And I'm not letting you have this room."
He sticks his lip out even further, his brows come down and he's about to throw a screaming fit.
"Gus, you be a good boy and choose another room, and I promise we'll get a bed like this for you. A special one, made just for little boys."
Gus looks at me doubtfully. "Will it have those post things at the ends? And curtains?"
"Yes, even the same colour, if you want."
"Kay!" he shouts. "I'm gonna go choose my room! Come on, Momma!"
Once Gus has settled on a room he feels comfortable in, with Lindsey installed in the adjoining one, we leave her writing lists of essentials she needs, and I take Gus out to the stables. I lift him up so he can see over the stable doors into the empty stalls.
"When you're older, you can have a pony if you want."
Gus' eyes bug out of his head. "Wow, Dadda! A real pony? For my own?"
"Yep. And you'll have to take care of it … learn to groom it and feed it."
"Will you and Juss have ponies, too?"
I manage to smile down at him. "I think I'd be a little tall for a pony. And I'd have to learn to ride first."
"We can all learn together! Momma too! And Mommie and J.R. But J.R will have to get bigger first."
I'm pleased he's given me an opening. "Do you wish they were here, Gus?"
He shrugs. "J.R.'s just a baby. And she's a girl, and girls are stupid. All they do is play with dolls."
I hide my smile. "Who do you like to play with?"
"Ryan and Jason. They're my best friends. They live down the street from us. They're lots older than me ... Ryan's nearly seven!" His voice becomes accusing. "But Mommie doesn't really like me playing with them. She says they play rough games."
"And do they?"
"Nah. They take care of me. They're cool." He bounces suddenly with excitement. "Guess what! Ryan got a Star Wars Laser Blaster for Christmas! You can press a button and it makes six different Blaster noises!" But Mommie made me promise I wouldn't play with it," he adds wistfully. "She got really cross when he brought it to our house."
I'm sure she did. "Does she get cross with you often, Gus?" I ask casually.
"She didn't used to. Now she does a lot. She shouts at Momma, too." He looks down, wiggling his toes in the dirt. "And when I was bad, she smacked me. I cried. Then Momma shouted at her. Momma said Mommie wasn't allowed to hit me."
"She isn't, Gus," I say softly.
He looks at me with sad brown eyes. Lindsey's eyes. "It was my fault, Dadda," he says. "I was bad."
I grab him in my arms and hold him close. I can hear my mother's voice slurring, It was your fault, Brian. If you weren't so bad, your father wouldn't have to punish you. "No, Gus," I tell him. "You could never be that bad. It is not your fault." It's the fault of that fucking, fucking bitch Mel. And I'll never forgive her.
TBC
