Worth Keeping (14 page)

“Well, I think you’ll find Fort Knox has U.S. money in it and the Crown Jewels are in the Tower of London, but I think I know what you mean.” Don was smiling but his eyes regarded Nick carefully. “What say you show us both now, son? I know I’d love to see what you’ve been working on or what you’ve finished.”

Nick’s lips tightened and Owen wondered why he was so loath to show them his work. He’d seen Nick disappear at various times to the lighthouse and he’d known he was going out to paint. He’d respected Nick’s wishes to stay away and tried not to nag him to see what he was working on, but Owen was definitely getting more curious.

Don stood up. “Come on. These old bones need stretching. I’d really like to see some of the artwork again.” He stretched and disappeared out of the front door. Nick stood with bad grace and followed him out, picking up a large skeleton key hung on the back of the door. Owen followed them out. Socks scampered up and jumped onto Don’s shoulder, chattering excitedly. He seemed to pointedly ignore Owen and he chuckled at the sense of insult the capuchin seemed to exude.

Don grinned a wide smile at the monkey as he patted him. “Hello there, you little rascal. I hope you’ve been taking good care of my boy.” Socks squawked as he fidgeted on Don’s shoulder.

The lighthouse loomed in front of them, a large white structure of stone and concrete. Nick moved forward quickly in front of Don, unlocking the external door. A musty smell seeped out of the small entrance as he moved inside and across to a room on the far side. Nick pushed the door open then beckoned to Don and Owen to go inside.

Owen had thought that the lighthouse was incredible. But that admiration paled into insignificance when Owen saw clearly what was in the mysterious painting room instead of being rushed through it. The small room was a kaleidoscope of brightness, vibrant shades of colours Owen hadn’t imagined before, all beautifully created on canvases and dotted around the room like shining beacons of light. Owen stood there in amazement at the sheer talent shown in that small confined space. There were landscapes of the coastline in vivid shades of orange and blue; a beautifully rendered picture of the lighthouse itself in various shades of blue, grey and white; wild, turbulent pictures of storms and lightning and the deep grey hue of storm clouds. Owen walked over to one of them and reached out a hand in awe, gently caressing the paintwork.

“Hell, Nick, these are incredible. I have never seen anything like this before. These are done in oils, yes?” He moved around the room, his eyes widening in appreciation at the sight before him.

Nick cleared his throat. “Yes, all done in oils.” He seemed awkward, standing there as Owen moved around the room inspecting the flashes of colour.

“I thought it would be colder in here,” Owen observed in surprise.

Nick shook his head. “I need to keep this place at a certain temperature or the canvases will contract and expand and I get cracking and cupping distortions. So the central heating is maintained and I also have to be careful about humidity. It would damage my work if it wasn’t at a constant level, hence that machine there.” He waved at a dehumidifier in the corner of the room.

Owen saw Don watching Nick rather than the paintings with an expression on his face reminiscent of a tiger watching his cub: fond, indulgent and quite prideful. Don caught Owen’s eye and winked. Owen winked back then felt silly.

What the hell are we bloody were winking for?

Owen motioned toward a canvas in the corner with a cloth over it. “Is that the latest work then?” He moved over to it. Nick moved to stand in front of him with a definite leave-it-alone air about him. “Yes. It’s a work in progress and it’s bad luck to show anyone something before its finished.”

Owen turned to stare at him. “You are really talented, you know that? These are some of the best paintings I’ve ever seen.” He hastened to qualify that statement. “Not that I’m a connoisseur or anything but shit, I’d buy all of these if I could. You should show them in an art gallery somewhere.”

“I thought you’d like them,” Don said with a smug smile. “Nick seems to think he’s not all that good. That’s why he hides them away.” He shrugged. “It’s no good me telling him he’s great. I’m just his dad.” He tickled Sock’s tummy and the monkey smiled beatifically.

Owen’s mouth dropped open. “Not that good? Baby, these are bloody magnificent. Fan-fucking-tastic.”

Nick moved forward, a faint smile on his face. “Do you really think so? I wasn’t sure...”

Owen reached over and caressed his cheek. “I really think so. You could make a fortune out of them.”

Nick’s face shadowed. “I’m not ready to make a living out of it yet. Maybe one day.” The yearning in his voice was evident. “I’d love to have my work displayed in a gallery for people to see. But I’m not sure it’s good enough.” He looked at Owen. “Now you know what I do when I come out here.”

Owen nodded eagerly. “And you should keep doing it. Honest, Nick, these are great. You shouldn’t doubt your talent.” Nick’s face lit up and he smiled at Owen fondly.

Don cleared his throat. “Right, it’s getting bloody cold out here so it’s time to head back to the house. I’m bloody hungry, Nick. Do you intend feeding me at all?” His shaggy eyebrows raised in query.

Nick nodded. “I have a steak and ale pie in the oven for lunch that Heather made especially for you.” His voice was sly and Owen was amused to see Don’s face colour. “She says it was made with love and she wanted you to have it.” He peered at his father teasingly. “Anything we should know about going on between you two?”

“That’s between me and the lady, Nick. None of your business.” Don turned around and walked out of the studio.

Nick chuckled. “Hit a nerve there, the secretive bugger. You go on with Don, Owen. I just want to check everything’s fine here and perhaps throw a few more covers over my current piece. I don’t want it getting damp.”

Owen nodded, leaning over to kiss Nick briefly. “I’ll take Daddy Bear back to the cave. Don’t be too long. I know what you’re like when you get started in here.”

Nick was already moving about, hauling out a large tarpaulin and muttering about bugs and wetness.

Owen sighed and went out into the morning sunshine. Don stood just at the door and together the two men walked up toward the cottage.

“Daddy Bear?” Don murmured.

Owen’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh. I meant it in a nice way.”

“Of course you did.” Don ambled next to Owen who had difficulty keeping up with the man’s long strides. “What has Nick told you about himself, Owen? How much do you know of his childhood?” Don cast a quick glance at Owen.

Owen took a deep breath. “I know his mother rented him out. That he was used as a plaything for a load of randy motherfucking paedophiles and that he tried to kill himself a couple of times.”

Don laughed harshly. “A couple? Try at least half a dozen. The first time I met Nick in hospital, when he was thirteen, he already had scars on his wrists from previous attempts. They were more a cry for help than anything else, but then he went the whole hog and did it right. His slag of a mother found him and got him to the hospital. I knew of her and her pimp, and I’d been keeping an eye for a few weeks on young Sam, as he was known then. I’d organised someone from social services to go around there and take him away before he tried to kill himself again. She was too late, some bureaucratic blunder. So when I went to see him in hospital, I got things moving again to get him into care. Then Barb Piper went and pulled him out from under everyone’s noses. I searched high and low for him.”

They’d reached the cottage now and the two men entered. Socks was sitting on the curtain rail, fiddling with a toy car. Where it had come from, Owen had no idea. He hadn’t seen that particular toy before. Don stretched and sat down at the kitchen table, his face dark. Owen sat down at the opposite side of the table, his eyes never leaving Don’s face. The story he was hearing again was still too disturbing and he felt ill.

“I know you rescued him from an alleyway when one of the punters went too far,” Owen murmured.

Don slammed his fist on the table, causing Owen to jump a foot in the air, and his heart jerked. Socks gave a screech and bounded onto Owen’s shoulder. He stroked the monkey gently, trying to calm him down.

Don’s face was grim. “He tried to get that bastard to kill him. Luckily I heard him screaming like a banshee. A bloody great rat was about to make a meal of his eyes.”

Owen swallowed the bile that rose in his throat at the thought of the man he definitely cared for being so abused.

“I called an ambulance and got him taken in, and put a bloody phalanx of plainclothes officers on to make sure he didn’t disappear again. He was there for over a week on suicide watch to make sure he didn’t try it again. He was a fucking mess, like a bloody feral animal. It broke my bloody heart. I took him in, tried to teach him not all men wanted his body.” His voice cracked. “He even fucking offered himself to me, as a reward for taking him in, taking him away from his sick mother and her psycho boyfriend.”

Hot tears formed in Owen’s eyes. “God,” he whispered. “Poor Nick. How the hell did
you
manage to cope with all that trauma he suffered, get him to see things could be better?”

Don sighed. “It took a long time. He self-harmed a lot and he tried killing himself a couple of times—pills one time, cutting his wrists again another. He even thought about jumping in front of a bloody train when he was fifteen. We were at Waterloo Station, after being to the museum out that way.” Don leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping the table. “I could just see what he wanted to do. I was ready to pull him back, but at the last minute, he stepped back from the edge of the platform. He turned and looked at me and he knew I knew what he’d been thinking of doing. I have no idea what changed his mind but I’m glad he did. From that point it was a turning point.” He smiled drily. “And that was also when he told me he wanted to formally change his name. Since then we’ve had our ups and downs and his moods can be pretty bleak, but we’ve managed to keep on track.” He scowled. “Until that bloody bastard Brad came along and fucked him up again. I had to get him away from him. That man almost undid everything Nick had managed to overcome.”

There was silence.

Owen looked over at Don. “Thank you for telling me this,” he murmured. “Nick is pretty shut down when it comes to telling me all the details. It’s good to know I can talk to you.”

Don sighed heavily as he leaned forward. “You truly care for my son, Owen?”

Owen nodded. “Yes, I do. He’s a difficult son of a bitch but he’s one of the strongest and bravest men I think I’ve ever met.”

“Then please watch out for him for me.” Don reached over, laying a huge paw on Owen’s. “He sometimes gets these moods and when he’s like that, it’s hard to convince him he’s worth it. You have to convince him he’s worth keeping, Owen.”

The man’s voice broke slightly and Owen saw the man’s pain beneath the strong exterior. Don looked up as the subject of their conversation appeared in the doorway, his eyes wary.

Owen wondered guiltily whether he’d heard them discussing him. If Nick had he gave no indication. Socks chattered, jumping onto Nick’s shoulder as he smiled at the monkey fondly and scratched his ears.

“Hey, buddy. Are these two looking after you?”

Owen stood up, coming over to hug Nick and plant a warm kiss on the side of his neck. Nick looked surprised but pleased. “What was that for?”

Owen spluttered. “I need a reason to cuddle you now? Jeez, next thing you know we’ll be making diary appointments for a fu—” Nick’s eyes widened at what he’d been about to say and Owen broke it off quickly. “Never mind, forget it. My mouth runs away with me sometimes.”

“No kidding,” was Don’s dry retort behind him and Owen flushed. “Now are we going to have anything to eat anytime soon or do I need to start rummaging through the cupboards for something?”

Nick gave Owen’s hand a squeeze then went over to the oven, switching it on. “It just needs to be heated up. In about twenty minutes we should be able to eat. In the meantime,” he reached into the tall larder cupboard, drew out a bag of Doritos and chucked them on the table in front of Don. “Your favourite—Chilli Heatwave. Get those down you to stave off those hunger pangs.”

Don opened the bag and began snacking on the crisps with relish. Owen watched in awe as the man demolished them in the space of ten minutes without even offering any to anyone else.

The rest of the afternoon passed in general conversation and stories of Don’s work as a policeman. Finally Don stood up. “I’m going for a walk,” he announced. “I need to work off some of that pie. I’ll see you lads in a little while.”

He picked up his jacket and disappeared. Owen looked at his watch. It was almost seven p.m. He looked at Nick. “Fancy watching a film, then? I bought a couple of new DVDs in town. You have the choice of
Brokeback Mountain
, one of my all-time faves, or the new
Sherlock
series with that bloke who has the funny name. Benedict something-or-the-other. I also have a couple of very good porn movies but I thought we’d leave them for later in bed.” He leered.

Nick laughed. “I think I’ll stick with
Sherlock
. Cowboys aren’t really my thing.”

Owen was aghast. “How can you not like cowboys? Bare-chested men in hats riding huge beasts with all that power and muscle between their legs and those great tans...” he shuddered in pleasure. “And they even have rope, Nick. Rope.”

Nick looked at him sultrily. “So rope gets you off then?” He moved over to Owen, palming his groin, smiling at the hardness there. Owen’s eyes closed in momentary pleasure. He opened them to find Nick’s mouth centimetres from his.

“Then I guess maybe we need to invest in some rope,” Nick whispered. “Your cock certainly likes that idea.”

Owen could only nod and croak out a reply as Nick squeezed his balls tightly. “Uh-huh. Handcuffs maybe too.”

Nick growled, devouring Owen’s mouth as he pulled him to him, pressing himself against Owen’s front. Owen gave back as good as he got and finally the two men drew apart, both breathing heavily and both extremely turned on.