Barging In (33 page)

“Nigel, my dear, I can assure you that if you continue to spread your particularly virulent brand of homophobia around here, then I am going to inform all your customers exactly what it was you used to get up to in the boat sheds at school.” He paused to look around the pub. It wasn’t crowded, but there were at least eight other punters listening in and not bothering to hide the fact. “Now, are you going to apologise to young Robin here, or do you want me to tell everyone your old nickname?”

Nigel stared like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, then turned to Robin and glowered. “Sorry,” he forced out through clenched teeth.

“What was that?” Charles demanded. “Speak up, man. Sorry for what?”

Nigel looked mutinous for a moment, staring at Charles. Robin watched Charles mouth something that made Nigel blanch.

“I’m sorry for spreading rumours about you,” Nigel muttered, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Robin stared at him. He’d always known the day he saw someone get the best of Nigel Truman he’d be overjoyed, but was surprised to find it tempered by pity for the man, who looked like he’d been kicked in the guts.

“It’s okay,” Robin said. “Apology accepted.”

Nigel looked daggers at him. “How noble of you,” he spat out.

Charles took hold of Robin’s arm and pulled him away from the bar to a quiet corner table. Robin kept his eyes fixed on Nigel for as long as possible, but then allowed Charles to distract him with his customary genteel flirtation. It didn’t creep him out anymore, which was good. In fact, watching Charles stand up to Nigel like that had increased his respect for the man a hundredfold.

There was one thing he had to know, though. “What was Nigel’s nickname at school?”

Charles gave a sly grin. “We used to call him Two-Man Truman on account of what he used to get up to after dark, and I hope you don’t need me to draw you a picture.”

Robin blushed, laughed and drank some beer to try and compose himself. “Are you serious?”

Charles winked, then changed the subject. “Robin darling, have I ever told you how ravishing you are when you’re embarrassed?”

“Um, no.” And he wasn’t sure how he felt about being told, either. It was flattering, and it made his heart beat faster even as he squirmed in his seat.

Charles laid a hand over his. “Oh, believe me, darling, you are breathtaking. You make an old man feel young again.”

Robin swallowed hard. What with the way Charles was gazing at his lips, Robin could almost feel the kiss they’d never had.

He was beginning to wonder if he might be ready to find out what Charles really wanted from him.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Dan stared out at the rolling waves breaking on the sandbank. A lagoon of still, shallow water sheltered behind it, such a startling shade of turquoise it hurt to look at it.

Or perhaps his heart was hurting for some other reason.

He watched the white boats bobbing out in the open ocean.

He’d been here for almost two weeks now, and it was absolutely beautiful. He had a well-appointed villa in a luxurious resort packed with attractive and available men, and by all rights he should be having the time of his life.

But the only place he wanted to be was on a poky little boat with one special man.

The man he now knew he loved.

It was terrifying, this love. It demanded that he change everything. That he give up his independence, his whole way of life and merge it with Robin’s. And he was ready to do that. Ready to compromise and move on.

But how on earth could he cope with living together?

He watched the boats, and an idea dropped from the sky, sending his thoughts rippling out from the impact.

Of course! That could work. He’d need to check out some facts and figures, he’d need to run up one hell of a phone bill, but he thought he could probably do it. If Tris would help him, he could definitely do it. He could finish his assignment, and he could get back home and show Robin exactly how much he loved him.

He headed back to his room and booted up his laptop. He spent half an hour checking websites and made a couple of phone calls, then sent a text to Robin. He yanked the covers off Tris.

“Rise and shine, lazybones. I’ve got a job for you to do. I need you to go back to London for me.”

Robin lay back on his sofa, weighed down by Morris on his chest and his constantly circling thoughts. The magazine lay next to him, open on the page of Dan’s photos. It was a week since Charles had showed it to him, but he’d been looking at it every day since. A whole week of brooding and indecision and gnawing temptation. He tickled behind Morris’s ears, imagining he could hear his mum pestering him to get up and about like she did after Jamie died.

“Robin? Are you there?”

His imagination was more vivid than usual. It sounded like she was right outside.

“Robin? I can see smoke coming out of your chimney. Are you going to stop sulking and help me over this death-trap jetty?”

He sat up. Morris protested, but he pushed him aside and went to the window. She was there, all right, standing next to Charles and decked out in a green waxed jacket and thigh-length wellies like some kind of fancy-dress farmer. Her nose and cheeks were bright red with the cold. Ordinarily he would have laughed at the sight, but right now all he wanted was a hug.

He burst out of the doors and cleared the jetty, almost knocking her over. “Mum,” was all he could say. He repeated it again, his voice cracking.

“I’d best leave you to it,” Charles said, backing away from them with a fond expression. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“Mum, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, you silly boy, how can I stay mad at you when you greet me like this?” She tightened her arms around him. Her face was icy where it touched his. Despite the watery sunshine, it was a chill day. “Now come on, you’d better show me onboard this boat of yours. I’m going to freeze out here, and so are you. You’re not even wearing your coat.”

Robin gave a small smile. “Come on, then. I’ll hold your hand if you want, but you should be fine. It’s much safer than the plank was.”

He ushered her into his home for the first time. Her eyes were huge, wary, but not disapproving.

“Oh! Isn’t it cosy? So warm. I thought it would be cold with the water so close.”

Robin watched her taking it all in. She ran her manicured fingernails over the shelving between the galley and saloon. “Did you really build all of this?”

He nodded. Usually he’d want to show visitors around and watch their awed gazes with a quiet pride, but right now he just wanted to look after his mum.

“Sit by the stove. I’ll get the kettle on.”

He remained silent for a couple of minutes while waiting for the water to boil. His mum was too taken up with removing her excess layers and greeting Morris to grill him, which made a pleasant change. In the end, it was Robin who spoke.

“How did you find me?”

She sniffed, and Robin braced himself for disapproval. However, she just pulled a handkerchief out of a pocket and blew her nose. “It wasn’t easy, darling. I had to park in that delightful little village and ask the landlord of that pub. What a pompous, bigoted fool! I gave him a piece of my mind, I can tell you.”

“Nigel, you mean? I’d love to have seen that.” His mother was not the sort of woman you wanted to cross. Fierce didn’t come into it when she was defending herself or her loved ones. “What did he say to you?”

She sniffed again, but this time it really was in disapproval. “Oh, I don’t need to repeat it. Some poisonous diatribe against boaters. And you in particular.” Her face sagged, the self-righteous indignation giving way to sorrow. “I’m so sorry you have to put up with that kind of thing. Your lifestyle choices are no one else’s business.”

It would have been rude to remind her of past tirades against Robin’s way of life, and besides which, it was too good to see her to risk spoiling the mood. Her presence was lifting the leaden weight inside him. He remembered how he’d kept himself out of contact for almost a month, and shame rushed up inside him, hot and sharp.

“I’m sorry, Mum.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I do. I should have called you, let you know I was okay.”

“Yes, you should have. Don’t ever do that again, darling. I’ve been worried sick this last month. I kept thinking something awful had happened.” She gave him a funny look. “What has happened? Why are you moored up in this Charles fellow’s garden? Is Dan treating you properly?”

He laughed, surprised at how bitter it sounded. “Not really. He’s gone off with Tristan, hasn’t he?”

“What do you mean? Robin, what’s going on here?” He watched the realisation dawning on her face. “Is that why you’ve had the phone switched off all this time? Have you been avoiding Dan’s calls?”

“No! Yes. I don’t know. I just—I don’t want to know what he’s doing out there with all those other blokes. With Tris.”

“But what makes you think he’s doing anything? I don’t understand.”

“It’s a gay resort, Mum. You know the sort of things that go on somewhere like that.”

“I certainly don’t!” She pulled her cardigan around her primly.

“No, okay, maybe not. But trust me, there’ll be sex on offer everywhere. It’ll be a meat market.”

“What makes you think that, darling? Have you ever been to one of these places?”

“No fucking way!” She flinched, and he made a conscious effort to calm down. “Sorry. No, no I haven’t. But I know what gay blokes are like. They’re sluts.”

She frowned at him, and Robin busied himself making the tea.

“Are you like that, Robin?”

“Like what?”

“Like you said,” she enunciated carefully, “a slut.”

He gaped at her and was about to say it was none of her fucking business, but something about her expression warned him not to. He thought about it. Thought about how he’d been out on the prowl when he first met Charles. Thought about how readily he’d leapt into bed with Dan and how he’d recently started flirting with Charles. But then there were all those years of staying faithful to Jamie. And then he hadn’t gone near a bloke for years, and he’d been faithful to Dan so far, even though they weren’t really together anymore. If indeed they ever had been.

“No,” he whispered. He cleared his throat and spoke louder, clearer. “No, I’m not like that.”

“But you think Dan is?”

He didn’t want to answer that one, so he turned back to the mugs of tea and slopped milk into them. “Jamie was.”

“Jamie was a manipulative little S-H-one-T and I don’t think you should be judging Dan by
his
standards.” She looked shocked at her outburst, but then her shoulders sagged as she sighed. “Look, sweetheart, I don’t know Dan’s history, and I’ve no idea what it’s like in these gay resorts, but I don’t think you do either. Besides, it’s plain to see that no matter what, that young man is besotted with you.”

Robin grimaced. “I don’t think so. He doesn’t love me.”

“Nonsense! Of course he does. You can see it every time he looks at you. If that’s not love, then I’m the Queen of Sheba.”

Robin wanted it to be true. He saw the conviction blazing in her eyes. But just because his mum said it was love, didn’t mean Dan would agree.

“Here’s your tea, Your Majesty,” he said, handing her the mug.

They drank in silence for a while.

“I’m sorry I made you gay,” she said out of nowhere.

He spluttered on a mouthful of tea. “You what?”

“I’m sorry. I know I wasn’t the best mother in the world. I did everything wrong when you were young.” She looked sheepish, her eyes lowered.

Was this really his mum? Robin had never heard her admit to being in the wrong before. “You were a good mother. I’ve always known you love me.”

“You do? That’s good.” She seemed genuinely relieved, and Robin wondered how she could ever have doubted that.

“I did everything wrong, though. I know that now. Reading all these attachment parenting books Miranda lends me and seeing how happy little Patrick is being carried around in a sling and breastfed on demand… Well, it makes me wish I’d been able to do that with you. You were such a difficult baby, always crying. You must have needed me to hold you, you must have been trying to tell me that—”

She broke off, and Robin saw the tears start to fall. In an instant, he was by her side, holding her tight and rocking gently. “Hey, it’s okay. I turned out all right, didn’t I?”

“You don’t understand! I was told the
proper
way to do everything. The midwives said if I picked you up when you cried, you’d end up being a real mummy’s boy. They told me that breastfeeding could turn you queer. Well, just shows you what they knew! Brought up on the bottle and still gay.”

The bitterness wounded him, but sympathy for her soothed the sting. “I don’t think it’s connected. And even if it is, I don’t care. I’m happy with who I am.”

“Are you?” She pulled back to look at him. Her mascara had made smudgy marks under her eyes, and she looked about ten years younger without her usual mask of confidence. “You don’t sound happy about it. You talk about gay men like you don’t have any respect for them. That makes me think you can’t possibly respect yourself.”

Robin didn’t reply. He watched the flames dancing in his stove. He thought about Jamie, and about Dan, and how totally different they both were. He barely noticed when his mum got up and went through to the back of the boat. When she returned, she had her usual war paint back in place and a resolute expression.

“I want you to check your phone.”

He stalled. “I can’t. There’s no reception here.”

“Fine, then we’ll go for a walk. There was definitely reception in that pub. You can check your messages, and then we can have something to eat and show that petty-minded little fool that we’re not ashamed of anything.”

Robin was about to point out that a boycott would hurt Nigel more, but then he thought about how reluctant he’d be to cause a scene in front of the Sunday lunch crowd. He’d have to put up with Robin sitting in his pub. A homo boater sitting at his own bar and polluting it with his foul depravities. One who knew his secret nickname.