The Sky Is Dead (17 page)

I curl up on the sofa, appreciating the comfort as I sip at the hot drink, not bothering to wait for it to cool down. If I’m going to be sleeping out tomorrow night, I need to find some cardboard and a sleeping bag. It’s bloody cold, so I’ll need blankets as well. I make a plan to head for the shelter in the morning to see what they have.

The knock at the door wakes me up from a light doze. I almost call out for whoever it is to come in, but then I remember I locked the door. I’m not surprised to see Sylvia, but Mary is with her as well. Judging from the tiredness in their faces, neither woman has been to bed.

“Please, may we come in?” Mary asks. “We saw the light on.”

I look over my shoulder at the clock on the wall. It’s four thirty. “Do you want me to go now?”

Mary pushed in front of Sylvia. “Don’t talk rubbish. We don’t want you to go at all. We didn’t spend all those weeks nursing you only to throw you out on a misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding?” I look at Sylvia as I say it.

She looks embarrassed. “I didn’t realize you’d spoken to Mum already. You didn’t tell me that.”

“You didn’t ask,” I say coldly. “You just assumed I was fucking for cash.”

“I didn’t
say
that,” Sylvia says.

“Neither of us said that,” Mary says. She sounds weary. “You jumped in with that idea before we’d even started.” I open my mouth to argue, but she continues, “Look, come and have a drink with us. We’re all tired, but none of us can sleep until we’ve sorted it out.”

“I’ll find a top.” I reach for the hoodie I wore yesterday, and then follow them into the kitchen.

Mary puts on the kettle and opens the cupboard. “Tea?” she asks over her shoulder. Sylvia says yes and so do I. I don’t like tea, but the two women drink so much it’s easier to say yes.

I drink my tea, trying not to pull a face. I wish I’d asked for another hot chocolate. I wait for one of them to start talking. They wanted the council of war, they can talk first.

Sylvia clears her throat. “I’m sorry, Danny… David. I was wrong to accuse you of anything before I spoke to Mum. She said she’d already told you to bring Jack back here.”

I stare at her steadily, because if I speak, I’m going to say something I’ll regret.

She looks at me as if she expects a reply, and then she sighs. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

“She was just protecting me,” Mary says. “You know we’ve had problems with other kids in the past.”

They both seem to be waiting for a response. You know what? I don’t care. Fuck them both.

“I’m going to bed,” I announce, and I leave the room.

“David, come back here.” Mary sounds annoyed now.

I close the door. I’ll talk to them after I’ve had some sleep. I’m exhausted and drained, and the thrill of making love to Jack has been totally lost in the emotional battering that followed. I crawl into bed and bury my nose in the smell of the two of us. I’m convinced I won’t be able to sleep but exhaustion wins out and I’m dead to the world before I have time to think.

December 28

B
ANGING
on two doors wakes me from a dreamless slumber. Squinting at the clock, I see it’s nearly two in the afternoon. The banging continues. I stumble out of bed, and then hesitate, unable to decide which door to head to first.

In the end, I open the house door first, ignore Sylvia, who’s waiting there, and jog over to the front door. Jack, I smile at.
He
hasn’t upset me.

“Hi.” He gives me a grin and leans forward to kiss me. “Have you forgotten we were meeting for lunch?”

Forgotten? Um, yeah. I don’t remember the conversation at all. Sex yes, plans no.

Jack looks over my shoulder. “I think Sylvia is waiting to talk to you.”

I turn around to see Sylvia still standing by the door, her expression a mixture of pissed and uncomfortable. It’s not a good look.

“Did you want to talk to me?” I ask.

Jack obviously picks up on my tone because he looks between the two of us, curiosity on his face.

“We didn’t finish our conversation,” she says snippily.

“You got it wrong, you apologized. What else is there to say?” I’m being a dick, and I know it, but I haven’t forgiven her for automatically thinking the worst.

“I’ll come back later,” she snaps. “I hope by then you’ll have remembered your manners.” She leaves the flat, slamming the door behind her.

I turn to Jack, who’s staring at me in amazement. “Sorry about that,” I say weakly.

He comes into the flat, closing the door behind him. “What the fuck was that about?”

“Nothing.”

“It doesn’t sound like nothing,” he points out.

I scrub my hand through my hair. “Just a misunderstanding.”

He gives me a look, “Uh-huh,” and he heads for the kettle. “I’m going to make us a drink. Go and have a shower, then we’ll talk.”

“What about lunch?”

“We’ll go out later. Shower now.”

He shoves me, not gently, in the direction of the bathroom. I think about arguing but decide I don’t want to piss off someone else today. Despite my attitude, I don’t like upsetting people. My dad used to do it all the time, and I swore I wouldn’t be like that bastard.

I don’t rush in the shower, and when I walk out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my waist, Jack is eating a croissant and reading the
Daily Mail
.

“You’ve been to see Mary.”
I sound accusing… deep breath… I need to chill.

Jack looks up from the newspaper. “Yep. You’ve been a prat, haven’t you?”

I think about arguing but I’m too tired. “Yeah.”

“Here, eat something. Then you can tell me what happened.” He pats the sofa next to him. Thankfully, he puts the paper down.

“I’m surprised Mary hasn’t told you,” I say sourly.

“Well, she did. But I want to hear it from your own lips.” To emphasize the point, he stares at my mouth.

I know I’m going red. “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry,” he says totally insincerely.

“Tell me what happened.” This time his tone is gentle.

I take a deep breath. “Sylvia accused me of bringing you back here and charging you for sex.”

He nods. “And then?”

I frown at him. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“They told me this. They also said none of you slept. Then, when Sylvia tried to apologize, you told her to eff off.”

“I did no such thing.”

“You walked out after she said she was sorry.”

I hate the voice of reason. “She made me angry. They both did. I thought they knew me better than that.” I pick at the croissant Jack gives me. “I promised them I’d never hustle here, and the first time I bring a boy back, they don’t believe me.”

“They do believe you, but it’s not like it hasn’t happened before.”

“I haven’t done it before.”

“Dipshit. I meant other kids. They told me that, as well.”

I give him a look. “You seem to have had quite a conversation for the ten minutes I was in the shower.”

Unfazed, Jack smiles at me. “They’re worried and pissed.”

“Yeah, I get that. I thought they were going to throw me out.” I look away, not wanting him to see how vulnerable I am, how fucking hurt by their accusations.
I’m David
, I keep telling myself.
David, not Danny
. Of course, it fools no one.

He hugs me tight. “Fucking idiot. Why would they do that? Now eat that croissant.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Eat!”

Jesus, for a kid he’s fucking bossy. I eat.

The shredded croissant and the orange juice he shoved in my hand gurgle in my stomach unhappily. I’m not convinced that I’m not going to barf. Keeping my eyes closed seems to help, and I sit very still.

“David?”

I open my eyes to see Sylvia standing in front of me.

“Third time lucky?” she says hopefully.

Ignoring the lurch in my gut, I stand up and step into her open arms. “I’m sorry,” I manage as I press my cheek against her hair.

Sylvia squeezes me hard. “You don’t have to be sorry for anything. You weren’t the idiot.”

“Yeah, I was. I’m just so scared.” Then I shut up, because Jack is in the room, but I’m still not secure enough to step away from her.

“You’ve kissed and made up, then?” Mary says.

I look up see Mary and Ben standing next to Jack. “What’s this? An intervention?”

Ben nodded. “It was, but you seem to be doing fine without it.”

I sigh as Sylvia squeezes me tight. She stands back and wipes her eyes. “Do you want a cuppa?”

I pull a face. “Do I have to drink tea?”

“A Coke. Just this once.” Sylvia looks over at Mary. “What do you think? Does he deserve fizzy?”

Mary huffs. “Just this time.”

I roll my eyes at them. “I’m twenty years old. I think I’ve got past the age of worrying about my teeth.”

“You think it stops because you’re so old?” Sylvia laughs at me, and Ben joins in. “Mum still reminds me to clean my teeth every night.”

“You don’t!” I gape at Mary.

“Good dental hygiene is important,” Mary says primly. “Fizzy rots your teeth.”

“Jack, do you want a Coke?”

“Can I have a cup of coffee, please?”

From the look on Mary’s face, Jack could have asked for hemlock. “Coffee? I think we might have a jar somewhere.”

“For heaven’s sake, you know we have coffee.” Sylvia grinned at Jack. “Mum’s a real snob about coffee.”

“I’m not a snob. I just think coffee is revolting.”

“I don’t like coffee either,” I confide to Mary. “Mum used to make coffee with chicory in, and it put me off for life.”

Jack’s looking at me curiously, and I curse myself for mentioning my mum. Thankfully Mary grins at me and talks before Jack can ask questions.

“Coke, coffee, and three teas coming up. Ben, can you look at the oven? It’s making some really odd noises.”

“Mum, we didn’t get Ben over here to make him work,” Sylvia chides.

Ben shakes his head. “It’s no problem. I’m happy to help. But you should have asked Da… David. He’s really good at DIY.” He grins at Sylvia and holds his arm out for Mary.

Mary nods at me. “Perhaps you can be trusted with power tools.”

And then another piece of the puzzle falls into place as the memories of a long-ago conversation I’d had with Ben about the woman he has loved forever bubbles to the surface.

“Oh. Ben. You idiot,” I mutter as they leave the room.

“Huh?” Jack looks confused.

“No worries. I’ll explain later. Better get into the kitchen before Mary gets pissed at us both.”

“Okay.” Jack presses a kiss to my lips, which turns into another kiss, and maybe some groping before we actually leave my flat.

The three adults are sitting around the kitchen table when I walk in, Jack hard on my heels.

Mary looks up. “I thought we were going to have to send out a search party. What kept you?”

“Shh, Mum, they were busy.” Sylvia throws a grin at me.

“Busy,” I agree. I wonder how I could have missed Ben’s soppy expression before when he looks at Sylvia. Ben sees me watching him and blushes as I flick my gaze to Sylvia. Oh boy, I can’t wait to have
that
conversation.

Jack moves his chair close to mine as we sit down. It doesn’t seem to bother him to be so openly gay in front of the other three. I realize it does bother me. I can’t help expecting them to turn on me in disgust. But of course Ben doesn’t turn a hair, and I realize how damn stupid I am expecting Mary and Sylvia to, in light of what happened to Allan. Tentatively, I take Jack’s hand in mine, and promptly four people beam at me. I want to crawl under a rock and hide from all the attention. But Jack holds my hand so tightly I stay where I am, trying hard to keep a smile on my face.

A
FTER
the drink, Jack wants to go out. He has plans but he doesn’t seem to want to talk about them. He asks Ben if he would mind giving us a lift on his way back to the shelter.

When we end up at the crematorium, I understand why he’s so cagey. Jack wants to visit his mum but he doesn’t know how to ask me to go with him.

He looks at me with a pleading expression as we stand at the gates. Ben offers to wait for us, but I say we’ll get the bus back. I don’t want Jack to feel he has to rush.

“We buried her ashes under a rose bush before we left for America,” he says. “I wanted a proper burial and so did she, but Dad wouldn’t pay for it.”

“Do you remember where it is?”

“The Garden of Remembrance is over there.” Jack points to a large garden set back from the path. “I don’t remember exactly which path, but I know there was a stone dog nearby.”

I hold out my hand to him. “Come on then. There can’t be too many stone dogs to find.”

After the fifteenth stone dog, I’m beginning to lose hope. “Are you sure it was a dog?”

The light is fading and the crematorium is going to close in half an hour. I watch Jack looking around in despair, and then out of the corner of my eye, I see a small sign that says
Melanie Cooper 14.6.57-17.11.2002. Beloved mother of Jonathan Cooper.

“I’ve found it, Jack. Look!” I drag him over to the small rosebush, little more than a cut-down stump now.

The relief on his face brings a lump to my throat, as does the way he traces the lettering on the sign.

I stand back to give him a moment with his mum. I can’t deny I’m jealous of the relationship Jack must have had with his mum. My mother had been friendly enough, but I was never that close to her. Ironically, I was closer to my dad, which made the fact he threw me out even more tragic. Jack didn’t seem that bothered about his dad. He’d lost the one parent he really cared about.

“The crem is closing, boys.”

A gruff male voice interrupts my thoughts. I look up to see a black guy in an old duffel coat and shabby black trousers waving at us from the gate.

“Thanks,” I say and look at Jack. “We have to go.”

“I know. I should have brought flowers.” He gets to his feet and brushes down the knees of his jeans.

“We could come back tomorrow with some,” I suggest.

He nods. “Yeah, maybe.”