CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

JUSTIN

I don’t have a problem getting a cab; the ploughs have been out all night and the roads are pretty clear.  When we reach the cemetery I ask the cabbie to wait, and start off in what I think is the right direction.  It’s the first time I’ve been here since the funeral; the first time I’ve seen it under a shroud of snow.  It takes me a while to find Mom’s grave, and then I crouch to brush away the snow so I can read the inscription on the graceful, simple grey stone.  Dad hadn’t consulted me on the design, and I’m quietly pleased and relieved that he’d chosen something so fitting.

JENNIFER TAYLOR

1962-2006

Loving wife, mother and daughter

At least he got something right.

It’s very still; even the sound of traffic seems muffled.  The only living thing I can see is a huge black crow perched on a cross nearby, stark and ominous amid the snow, watching me with a fierce, inimical eye.

I breathe in the fragrance from the small bunch of scarlet carnations I’m carrying and then lay them against the headstone.

They were always her favourites.

Mom, I think, this is so fucked up.  I don’t know what to do.

The crow gives a caw like derisory laughter and leaps into the air, its black wings clapping.

I wait a little, but if I’m hoping for any other response I’m disappointed.  No words, no comfort: just the white, empty silence.  I stand up and follow my tracks back towards the gates and the waiting cab.  When I look back I can still see the carnations lying there, like blood spilt on the snow. 

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As the cab turns into the drive at Britin I can see Boot’s truck still parked in front of the house, so I tell the cabbie to stop, give him his fare plus a hefty tip and trudge quickly down towards the stables, walking in the tracks made by the fire truck.

The temperature has risen and the snow is beginning to melt; the stink of smoke hangs heavy in the chill, dank air.

The stable yard has been swept clear by the fire crew’s hoses, and the cobbles are slick with dirty slush.  The building itself is just a blackened shell – the stables where Gus’ pony was going to live, the studio Brian had built for me.  My brushes ... my paints.  My canvasses.  All gone.  Charred rafters stick out of the debris at odd angles, and I can make out the shape of the double sink, hanging forlornly against what’s left of the far wall.

Somewhere among the ashes is Brian’s painting ... and I think that hurts the worst of all.

“What a bloody mess.”  Boot’s voice behind me makes me jump; I turn to see him walking slowly towards me.  “I heard the cab ... saw you come down here.  You alright, Sunshine?”

I shrug, turning away from him. 

Boot stops beside me and surveys the ruins.  “You can build it again.” 

“Yeah,” I agree bitterly.  “Brian can build it good as new.  Except it won’t be the same.  Money can’t put everything back the way it was.”

“No.  But sometimes it can be better.”

I don’t answer.

He rubs his big hands together and blows on them.  “Well, you stay and freeze your nuts off if you want.  I’m going back to the house.”

I watch him stride away from me, and suddenly I realise I’m acting like a sulky kid.  So I follow him slowly back up the track, and by the time I reach Britin he’s in the kitchen sipping a mug of coffee.  I try not to be pissed that there’s a second cup already made for me.

I pull off my soaked trainers and socks and sit down at the breakfast table, wrapping my hands around the steaming mug to warm them.  Boot sits on a chair at the other end, eyeing me curiously. 

“You ought to give the guv a bell ... let him know you’re alright.  He’s a bit frazzled.”

“He called you?”  So that’s why Boot’s still here.  “Don’t tell me, you’re supposed to recapture me.”

He frowns.  “You’re a man, not a bloody puppy.  You can go where you want, my son.” 

“If Brian’s so concerned, why isn’t he here?”

“Because he has to go and talk to Gus,” Boot replies simply.  “With ... what’s her name?  Mel.  He’s got to explain to the lad why his mum isn’t coming back.”

Fuck.  I hadn’t even thought about that ... of course Brian would take the burden of breaking the news to Gus himself.  I can’t begin to imagine how hard that will be for both of them.  And here I am, moping and feeling sorry for myself, causing more problems for him when I should be back in Pittsburgh helping.  Poor Brian.  And poor Gus.  What a shit morning for both of them.  I hang my head.  “Maybe she was right,” I mutter.

Boot lifts his eyebrows.  “Who?”

“Lindsay.  She said Brian would be a better father without me around to distract him.”

He snorts.  “I wouldn’t give tuppence for anything she says.  She’s a wrong’un if ever I saw one.”

“Doesn’t mean she isn’t right.”

Boot puts down his coffee and folds his arms.  “Don’t talk rubbish, Justin.  If it weren’t for you, I doubt he’d have anything to do with the lad at all.”

My head jerks up at that insult.  “Don’t you dare say that!  Brian’s a wonderful father ... he loved Gus from the moment he saw him!  You don’t know ... you weren’t even there!”

“Sometimes it takes an outsider to see things clearly,” Boot replies calmly.  “I’ve watched the guv around other people, and I’ve watched the way he is around you.  Everything he’s learned about loving he’s got from you, my son.”

“You’re wrong.  All I did was show him how he already felt ... inside.”

“And without you, that’s where it would have stayed.  Inside.”  He looks at me steadily.  “You know what’s frightening him?   That you might not want to have the nipper around.”

I stare at him.  “Huh?”

“You said something to him about not wanting kids.  He thinks that now he’s got more responsibility that way, you might have got cold feet, so to speak.”

“But I love Gus!” I protest, stunned by the accusation.  “He’s part of Brian, how could I not want him around?”

“I told you, he’s a little frazzled.  He can’t think of any other reason you’d take off without a word like that.”

“It was nothing to do with Gus!”  I jump to my feet.  “Will you drive me back?  I have to talk to him.  I can’t let him think that about me!”

Boot doesn’t move.  “As soon as I’ve finished me coffee,” he says easily.  “And in the meantime, why don’t you tell me just what the bloody hell’s got you so wound up, Sunshine?”

I stare at him.  How can I make someone like Boot understand how I feel ... someone who’s never known a moment’s doubt, a moment’s fear?  Who’s so strong, so secure in his ability to take care of himself and everyone else?  How can I explain what it’s like to be trapped in a 5’8, 140lb body like mine?  It’s not my fault I’m blond.  It’s not my fault I’ve got blue eyes. It’s not my fault I still get carded at bars.  I’m not saying I’ve never taken advantage of those assets, especially when I was younger; but for years now I’ve only thought of them as a curse.  I’ve always been looked on as the weakest, the youngest, the most vulnerable and Boot can have no idea how that feels.  How can this confident, capable mountain of a man even begin to understand what it’s like to be me?

I sit back down.  “He’ll push me away again.  Like he always does.  If that’s what he believes, he’ll make the decision for me.”

Boot snorts.  “Of course he won’t.  Don’t be a dick head.”

“Ha!  That’s how much you know!  You ... the guy who dragged me out of the studio like I was some fucking child just because Brian told you to!”

“Ah.”  He sits back casually, stretching out his long legs.  “So it’s your pride that’s hurt.”

I bang my fist on the table.  “Yes!  Fucking right it’s hurt!  It’s bad enough that the man I want to spend the rest of my life with doesn’t think I have the intelligence or the experience or even the right to make up my own mind ... he even buys my fucking friends for me!  To make sure poor little Justin stays out of trouble!”

Boot blinks.  “Where did you get that idea?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” I demand.  “Tell me he isn’t paying you to watch out for me!”

Boot’s gaze doesn’t waver.  “The guvnor is not paying me to watch out for you,” he says emphatically.

“Liar!”

Boots eyes flash.  “You’re treading on dangerous ground, Sunshine,” he warns.  “I don’t let many people call me that and get away with it.  I’ll make an allowance for you because you’re me mate and I know you’ve been through a lot, but don’t push your luck.”

“You think I’m afraid of you?” I snap.  “I’ve been threatened all my life, so don’t flatter yourself!  And you’re not the first person I trusted who sold me out, either!”  I get up and head for the door, meaning to get some dry shoes and socks and get out of here, but Boot’s voice stops me.

“Did she put that into your head, too?  That bloody Lindsay?”

I turn and look back at him.

“Seems to me that woman is too fond by half of giving people ideas,” he says quietly.  He studies my face for a moment, then sighs heavily.  “Alright, this is how it happened.  The guvnor asked me to move here and help him look after you, that first night I came to Pittsburgh.  I told him no, I don’t take payment to take care of me mates.  So he said he could give me a job at Babylon, if I’d help him out too.  I told him it wouldn’t work, because my loyalties were to you, not him – conflicting interests, as they say.  He said that was the way he wanted it, and if the time ever came when I had to choose between you and him, I was to choose you.  He insisted on it.  And that was the way I played it.”  He smiles a little.  “Justin, we were mates long before I met him.  I thought he was a prat.  I’ve learned different since ... but that doesn’t mean I’ve changed sides.  I get paid for working at Babylon and I get me expenses, like diesel for running about.  I don’t get paid for any baby-sitting.”

I look at his blunt, honest face and all I can feel is shame.  “Fuck, Boot.”  I go back to the table and sit down.  “I’m sorry ... I know you’re not a liar.  It was just ... what she said made sense.  It’s the way Brian thinks ... that money can buy anything.  I’m sorry.”  I can’t look at him; but when he speaks, his voice is kind.

“Don’t take on, son.  I’ve been called a lot worse, and I know you didn’t mean it.  But you and the guv ... fuck me, but you’re a right pair.  I can see why you’ve lasted so long ... nobody else would put up with either of you.  Can’t you just trust each other and leave it at that?”

“We do,” I protest.  “It’s just ... well, when things go wrong, Brian pushes me away and I let him.  And no matter how hard we try, we keep doing it.  I’m beginning to wonder if it’s ever going to change.”

Boot frowns.  “Hold on, you’ve lost me.  When did the guvnor push you away?”

I stare at him.  “You were there ... in the studio, of course.”

He raises his eyebrows quizzically.

“He didn’t wait ... he didn’t give me a chance to help him.  He just acted.”

Boot’s expression is grave.  “So what you said ... about him not respecting you as an equal ... that’s really what you thought it was about?”

“Wasn’t it?”

“No it was not!”  Boot sits up with a jerk.  “The man was trying to make sure you were safe, for crying out loud!”

“He didn’t have the right to make that decision!”

“Yes, he did!”  His eyes are angry.  “All of this is his mess, not yours!  Of course he wanted you out of there!  He loves you, doesn’t he?”

“But I want him to respect me ...” 

“Fuck me, Sunshine, give it a rest.  He does respect you.  More than anyone he’s ever met.”

“Then he should have given me the right to choose whether I left or not!”

Boot puffs out his cheeks.  “Okay, I know the guvnor hasn’t got a good track record where you’re concerned, and I don’t blame you for being wary. But in this case you’re being unjust, because you’re putting thoughts in his head that weren’t there.” 

“But he ...”

“You’re not getting it.”  Boot sighs again and shakes his head.   “Right.  Let’s start from the beginning.  You take a man - any man.  His ... partner ... is the usually the most precious thing he has, and I don’t see it makes any difference whether that partner is a bird or another bloke.  The sex doesn’t come into it.  Being a man, it’s only natural he’s going to want to protect them and keep them safe ... and to think he knows what’s best for them, that goes without saying.  That’s just instinct.  So what you’re complaining about ... well, it’s not a Brian thing.  It’s more of a bloke thing.” 

I glare at him.  “Meaning I’m somehow excluded from that generalisation?  You don’t think I’m a real man too?”

“No,” he replies patiently.  “I know that you are.  You just don’t look it.  But the guv ... he may be a poof, but he comes across all male.  If I’d have met him as a stranger, I’d have sworn blind he was as straight as I am.”  He drums his fingers briefly on the table.  “The first time you saw him, what attracted you to him?”

The guy must be insane.  “The fact that he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen?”

“Right.  So ... what if he’d looked the same, but he’d acted and dressed like your Emmett.  Like a nancy.  Would you still have gone for him?”

“Fuck, no,” I shudder.  “That is the most horrible idea I’ve ever heard.” 

“You’re not wrong.”  He chuckles.  “That’ll give me nightmares for a while!  But what I’m trying to say is; you like the fact that he’s dominant.  That he’s got bottle.  That he could pass as a straight man.” 

“Of course.  I’m not denying it.”

“Then don’t be surprised when he acts like it!  He loves you the way he does, right?  The only way he knows how.  You wanted him to commit to you, and he has; and it’s all or nothing with him.  You should know that better than anyone.  So if you’re going to be offended every time he worries about you and tries to look out for you, maybe you shouldn’t have started all this in the first place.”

I realise my mouth is open and shut it hurriedly.

“Think of it like this.  You’re a well brought-up lad: I bet you always hold a door open for a lady, or lend a hand if you see one struggling to carry something.  Or you stand up when one comes into a room.  Do you do it because you think they’re somehow inferior to you ... weaker or something?”

“No, of course not.”

“Well, some women think you do, and they won’t thank you for it.  They take it as an insult to their equality.  Luckily, most are sensible enough to see it for what it is ... a mark of respect. Means a bloke’s got manners.  So if your man pays you that respect ... take it in the way it’s meant, my son.  Don’t go complaining about how much it demeans you.”

“So that’s it?” I ask hotly.  “I should just resign myself to being Brian’s little wife?”

He gives me a look.  “The only person who thinks that is you, Sunshine.  Do you honestly think a man like him would have fallen for you in the first place if he saw you that way?   He’d have gone for someone like that little chum of his, Michael, if he wanted a bloody doormat.  But the guv doesn’t fancy nancies any more than you do.”

Oh God.  He’s telling me what I know, deep down.  I’m acting like an idiot in front of this man.  I look down at my hands.  “You think I’m being stupid, don’t you?”

Boot laughs.  “No, I don’t.  I understand more than you think.  It’s the bloke thing again.  You’re at the age where you need to assert yourself ... you’re not a kid anymore, but you haven’t been adult long enough to feel sure where you fit in.  And God knows you’ve taken more knocks in your few years than most people go through in a lifetime.  So it’s only natural you overreact if you think someone’s taking the piss.  The trouble is, sometimes it makes you pick a fight when there’s really nothing to be fighting about.”

I manage a smile.  “You mean I have to prove I’ve got balls.”

He snorts.  “What you have to realise is that you don’t have to prove that to anybody ... least of all the guv.” 

And you know what?  He’s absolutely right.  Brian once told me I had to grow some balls, and I did.  And now I’m going to pull them up and take them back where they belong.

TBC