Chapter 29

"Fancy a walk?" Jackson asked. "Might help to keep moving a bit," he continued encouragingly, looking over towards Aaron.

"Yeah, ok. Not too far though, eh?" Without moving from the sofa, he stretched; he had taken a second lot of painkillers in the early afternoon, perhaps a little bit soon, but he was allowed four doses a day and that still left him some for the early evening and at bedtime.

They had spent a lazy morning, relishing the return to their own peace once Paddy and Hazel had left. Sitting out on the decking, talking or silent, sharing coffee and lunch; the sun shone warmly down on them.

Neither of them had paid much attention to their surroundings as they had arrived yesterday; everything was new. Slowly, just ambling, they made their way along the rutted track leading away from the chalets; there was a slight incline on the path, hiding from view until the last minute the curve of a still, glistening snake of water that stretched to the far distance on their right and to their left, just a little way off, widened, allowing boats to tie up at the pontoons that lined each side. Further in the distance, they could see roofs, the red-brick edge of a building or two, the first or last houses of a village.

"Right or left?" asked Jackson, smiling as he realised the words echoed those he used at the very beginning of their holiday.

"Left!" said Aaron decisively. "It doesn't look too far."

The wide tow path closely followed the line of the canal; a small cruiser chugged towards them, by them, as they walked slowly along, the occupants waving enthusiastically as they passed. Jackson turned and waved back as the boat disappeared into the distance behind them.

Aaron walked slowly, his hands in his pockets, lost in his thoughts; looking at the scenery around him, at the cotton-wool cloud toped hills in the distance, at the water sparkling in the sunshine beside him but seeing none of it. His tumbling, spinning thoughts were miles away; thirty miles away, three nights away; in the safe, bright sunlight he had drifted back in time, searching for elusive memories, trying to fill in the blanks that still clouded that night. He had the evidence; he could feel the evidence with every step, every movement but his mind was playing tricks with him, he couldn't remember.

Jackson walked at Aaron's side, lost in his thoughts; enjoying the sun, the scenery around him. Unconsciously, unknowingly, he moved his arm, lifting it a little, his fingers reached for Aaron's elbow, touching, connecting, his hand slid through Aaron's arm, linking.

"What the hell d'you think you're doing!" Aaron spat, furiously throwing off Jackson's arm, stepping away from him, glaring at him; sudden, flaring anger exploding, overflowing, flooding from every pore of his body, threatening to suffocate him.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean...Aaron, I..." he stuttered, stumbling over his words, overwhelming shock surging through his body. A spasm of fear, fear of Aaron, fear for Aaron, ripped through him so vividly, so urgently, that it might have been a physical knife, ripping his skin, piercing his heart. He stepped back, one step, two, needing to put distance between them; suddenly trembling, he clasped his arms protectively about himself.

"Oh Jay! I'm sorry! God I'm so sorry!" As quickly as it had erupted, his anger had gone, replaced by tears filling, flooding the pain in his blue eyes. He stood still; confusion joined the emotions playing so clearly across his face, what had happened? What the hell had just happened? Oh god! had he hit him? Had he hit him again? Backing away, watching him, unable to tear his eyes from his face, but he had to move, had to get away, one step, two steps backwards; he couldn't bare to think of what he had just done, what he could have done.

"Aaron," Jackson whispered his name. "Aaron, it's ok," he took a step forward; he would have liked to take him in his arms, to hold him tight, force the pain out of him through the sheer strength of his will power. He wanted to put his hands to his face, brush away his tears with his fingers, see his eyes clear. Instead he just stood in front of him, holding his gaze firmly with his own, hoping he was reaching him, reassuring him. "It's ok. Come and sit down."

He crossed the tow path and sat on the bank, facing the water. No boats were passing now; there was nothing to disturb the gentle lap of the water against the pebbly edge. Jackson picked at a blade of grass, shredding it, waiting.

Aaron sank to the grass beside him; he didn't say anything, he couldn't say anything, there was nothing to say.

Jackson broke the silence; "What happened, Aaron?" he paused, but the silence lingered, stretched. "Aaron, I need you to try and talk to me. I'm so sorry I touched you, freaked you out; I really, really, didn't mean to do that. But that was more, wasn't it?" Still nothing; Jackson could feel his anxiety beginning to grow, a real fear knotting in his chest.

"Aaron, you trust me don't you?" even to his own ears, he could hear the quiver of panic in his voice. "I need you to trust me, Aaron; I need you to let me in, let me help you. I'll wait, Aaron, wait till you're ready." Trying to steady his breathing, he lay back in the grass; it was easier to close his eyes.

Still Aaron said nothing.

But suddenly, slowly, Jackson was aware of a finger touching his, just a finger tip, a hesitant touch, a touch waiting for acceptance or rejection. He moved his own finger, gently rubbing the other, accepting. The finger slid round his own, catching it, capturing it. Braver now, Aaron's hand clasped Jackson's and gripped it, gripped it as though he never wanted to let it go.

"Aaron. We need to talk," whispered Jackson.

...

For a while they stayed on the canal bank; Aaron spoke - hesitantly at first - the words started slowly, then gathering strength, flowed, tumbling over each other as he let go of so many thoughts, ideas; baggage carried round with him for years and sudden, new fears, only a few days old. Tears slid unnoticed down his face as he gathered strength from the man beside him; letting him in, accepting the comfort of his softly spoken words.

But it was only when they were back in the chalet that Aaron finally let Jackson take him in his arms, hold him, wrap him in a cocoon of safety that was more than just the physical reality of being held close, finally, for now, the safety reached his mind.

Exhausted, he slept.

...

He was still sleeping when Hazel returned, at nearer five than four. Putting the magazine down that he had been half heartedly reading, Jackson put his finger to his lip, shushing her, indicating the sleeping figure.

"Aww, bless," said Hazel, almost whispering. "Did you have a nice day, love?" She began searching the cupboards and fridge as she spoke, gathering things to make the curry.

"Erm...yes," Jackson hesitated. "Yes it was fine; we walked up the canal bank a little way."

"That's nice, a bit of exercise. Oh look, he's waking up. Hello Aaron love!"

Aaron wriggled to a sitting position, looking at Hazel and Jackson over the back of the sofa.

"Here! I got you a few bits," said Hazel cheerfully, heaving a several plastic bags over to where Aaron was sprawled. "A couple of cans each..."

"Aw mum, he shouldn't," interrupted Jackson, "the painkillers."

"So that's why I got lemonade too," she produced a large bottle from the bag, "he can have a weak shandy! And here, this is for you." She handed Jackson a bag.

"Paints!" he exclaimed, looking inside.

"Paints?" questioned Aaron at the same time.

"He's quite a good little artist, when he wants to be," said Hazel proudly to Aaron. "Not quite as good as me though, of course," she chuckled. "Now," she looked at Aaron, "what's it to be? Crossstitch or crochet? Though I dare say, Jackson wouldn't mind you sharing his paints." She waved another plastic bag at him.

"What!" gasped Aaron incredulously. Was she seriously asking him if he wanted to do crossstitch?

"Mu-um," said Jackson, his voice resigned. "She's joking," he explained to Aaron.

Hazel pulled a face at her son. "It's just a couple of car mags, love. Not very exciting I'm afraid."

"That's great, Hazel, thanks." Aaron smiled at her. "How long is this curry gonna be, I'm starving."

An hour later she was dishing it out, ladling it onto two plates.

"Why just two?" questioned Aaron as he took cutlery from a drawer.

"I thought I'd take mine back to the B & B," she said, indicating a plastic food box on the worktop.

"Oh no Hazel, stay and eat with us," said Aaron quickly. "After you've gone to all the trouble to make it an' all."

"Well, if you're sure," she said, hesitating. "I don't want to intrude."

"You're not!" said Aaron quickly.

"Well I will then, thank you. Although I can't stay long, the woman at the B & B is taking to a whist night at the local."

"Whist?" said Aaron puzzled.

"It's a card game," explained Jackson.

"Surprised you know that," retorted Hazel. "Thought the only card game you knew was snap. Oh dear! Was it something I said or is there lumps in that lager, look at the two of you coughing and spluttering."

...

Later, in the darkness, in the soft comfort of the large double bed, Aaron cuddled deeply into his lover's arms and thanked every star at the luck that had brought Jackson into his life.

Later, in the darkness, in the soft comfort of the large double bed, Jackson held his lover tightly in his arms and vowed never to let him go.