Gilliflowers (32 page)

I then played with Genny, throwing one of Jak’s juggling balls for her to bounce after. She made me laugh as she wrestled with it, clutching it to her stomach in her front paws and kicking at it with her back legs. She soon tired of the game though and went back indoors. The wind had roughened considerably and there was a spit of rain in it, typical British Bank Holiday weather. I followed Gen’s example.

The ambience in the lounge, as at Lee’s party was enhanced by alcohol. No one was drunk by any means, but there was a sense of relaxed camaraderie that I felt excluded from. Dick, who was sitting next to Shane on one of the sofas, moved and patted the space he’d created, inviting me to sit between them. I declined. I had not forgiven Shane for his morning comment. It was still stinging like a paper cut.

Returning to the kitchen I poked through Leo’s vast shelved collection of cookbooks and culinary magazines. Sitting on a stool at the central workstation I flicked through a pile, reading the annotations bedside some of the recipes detailing substituted ingredients and how well they’d worked, or not. I had to smile at one heavily underscored remark:
never ever use this again!

Jak came in to get another bottle of lager from the fridge. “Not a cricket fan then?”

“I prefer football.” I turned over the pages of a dessert book willing him to piss off.

“Nice beer this,” he popped the top with a bottle opener, “have you tried it?”

“Once or twice. I prefer Stella.”

“You must miss being able to have a drink, especially on special occasions.” He leaned against a worktop.

“I’m used to it. It’s no big deal.” I lied.

“I knew of a kid at school who had convulsions. I heard he drowned after having one in a swimming pool when he was on holiday. It must be scary living with something like that.”

“For your information, Jak, I don’t have convulsions.” I gave him a cold look. It was bad enough the boyfriends calling my episodes ‘fits and seizures’ I certainly wasn’t going to accept lobsterish
convulsions
as a description, certainly not from leather boy.

He gave a sly smile. “Leo said you’re a bit touchy about being an epileptic. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He took a swig of lager from the bottle. “Has giving up the booze stopped the convulsions then?”

“Fuck off, Jak, haven’t you got a cricket match to watch.”

“Just trying to make conversation.” He straightened up. “At least Dick and Shane seem to be sticking by you. You must be good at your job.” He walked past me.

Fucking patronising dickhead! I stared after him.

“Not coming through, Gilli?” Mike put in an appearance. He had a pack of cigarettes in his hand. Leo smoked a cigar in the house once in a while, but he didn’t allow anyone to smoke cigarettes within his hallowed halls.

“I’m fine. I detest cricket on the telly.”

Mike patted my shoulder. “Cheer up, kid. There’s still sex and rock and roll.” He opened the back door to go out for a smoke.

“Those bloody things will kill you. I thought you’d given them up?”

“So did I, Gilli, the spirit is willing, but the rest of me isn’t. You know how hard it is to give up something you enjoy no matter how bad it is for you.”

“I suppose,” I said, while sourly thinking that at least he had free will in the matter of whether he smoked or not.

When he came back indoors he selected a bottle from Leo’s wine rack and opened it.

“I thought you were on the lager?”

“One is enough. It gives me heartburn. I must be getting fucking old or something.” He poured a glass of the wine. “Come into the lounge, Gilli, instead of sitting in here on your own. You’ll feel better for some company.”

“I don’t need to feel better, Mike. I’m okay.”

“If you say so.” He went back from whence he’d come, leaving the bottle of wine on the workstation. A burst of laughter sounded from the lounge as he opened the kitchen door. A pigeon must have shit on a cricketer’s head.

When the door closed behind him I picked up the bottle of wine and read the label. It was a full-bodied Grenache. It smelled delicious like brambles with hints of vanilla. It bore no resemblance to the skinny sour fluid I had sampled at lunchtime.

Resentment at denial and my expected obedience to it flared afresh. Insurgency flowed through my veins.

The wine was even more delectably fragrant when swirled around a large glass, releasing all its natural aromas. Closing my eyes I raised it to my lips, and then hesitated.

“Put it down.”

My eyes flew open and I almost dropped the glass as Leo materialised in the kitchen. I couldn’t have got more of a fright if he’d floated up through the floor like a Hogwarts ghost. Why couldn’t he wear shoes around the house like a normal man instead of padding around barefoot?

“Take so much as a sip of that and I’ll deliver you to your Daddies with your pants around your ankles and the heaviest cane in my collection.”

I blushed a crimson mix of guilt, embarrassment and temper. “Mind your own fucking business, Leo!”

“What you do in my house is my business. Put the glass down, Gilli.”

I set it down with a heavy hand. To my horror the slender stem snapped and the glass collapsed, the thin bowl shattering as it hit the worktop spilling red wine over the counter. “Shit!” I quickly shoved the books and magazines out of the way of the deluge and lunged for a ream of paper towels to mop it up, my skin flaring hotter still.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to break it. I’ll pay for it. How much did it cost?”

“Twenty-nine pounds.”

“Twenty-nine fucking pounds for one glass, are you serious? Haven’t you heard of IKEA? They sell six for less than three quid.”

“I’ll be sure to get a set in for next time you visit. You asked how much it cost and that’s the price. It’s a hand blown glass.”

“I haven’t got that much money on me. I’ll send you a cheque.”

“I look forward to receiving it.” He briskly screwed the cap back on the bottle of wine.

“I didn’t drink any.” I began picking up fragments of glass with cautious fingers, dropping them onto the maroon stained towel to tip into the bin.

“Probably because I scuppered you before you had chance.”

“I suppose you’ll tell Shane.”

“It’s not for me to tell him. It’s for you. If you don’t then I’ll step in. I’m sure he’d rather hear it from you than me.” He shook a finger at me. “You don’t commit an act of disobedience in another dominant’s home and expect them to cover it up for you.

I’m not in the business of closed confession and I’m not in the business of keeping things from a loved and respected friend, certainly not things pertaining to the health of his stubborn sprog.”

“I haven’t asked you to cover anything up. There’s nothing to cover up. I told you I didn’t drink any.”

“Pouring wine in the glass was an act of disobedience in itself. Shane and Dick don’t want you drinking. It’s your duty to respect their wishes and it’s your duty to be honest and tell them when you fall short, especially Shane as the overall head of your house.”

“Don’t dare tell me what my duty is, Leo. I know it well enough, so keep your nose out of my affairs. You think you know everything about everything.”

“If you were my boy I’d soon set you straight on a few things.”

“Mercifully I’m not your boy.”

“Mercifully indeed, for me as well as you! Make sure you tell Shane what he has a need and right to know. I’ll give you until tomorrow before I intervene.” He strode out of the room.

I was shaking. Leaning both hands on the counter I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, cursing myself for being a fucking idiot and Leo for being an arrogant bastard. How dare he issue me with an ultimatum? I thumped a fist on the worktop.

How dare he!

Pulling myself together I disposed of the glass remains and cleaned down the worktop properly. I rinsed and was wringing out the dishcloth when Shane walked into the kitchen. He looked grim, his mouth a hard straight line. My stomach clenched. Maybe Leo had informed him after all.

“What’s going on in here, young man?”

I hedged, picking up the books and magazines I’d been reading, carrying them over to the shelf unit. “I’m putting these away.”

“What have you quarrelled with Leo about?”

“What’s he said?”

“Nothing. He didn’t need to. He came in here to get a drink and returned without one and a face like thunder. It doesn’t need a detective to deduce he’s had a Gilli encounter. Only you can infuriate someone in their own home. What happened?”

“Nothing happened, except Leo being anally retentive.”

My knees turned to water and my palms broke a nervous sweat as Shane grasped my wrists and pulled me against him. He leaned his face to mine, his voice laden with icy menace.

“Leo has a soundproofed room and a host of spanking implements. How many will I need to use before you tell me what happened between the two of you?”

Taking the plunge I confessed my sin, finishing with an attempt to absolve myself by adding, “I didn’t drink so much as a drop.”

“Would that be the case if Leo hadn’t walked in on you?” He let go of my wrists and straightened up.

I shrugged miserably. “I was already having second thoughts when he caught me, but whether I’d have gone with the second one or stuck to the first I don’t know to be truthful.”

“You’re really struggling with this aren’t you?”

“You’ve noticed then.” I gave a mirthless laugh. “I don’t get why I can’t have one drink, Shane, just one from time to time, on occasions like today, or at Sunday lunch and dinner parties, so I don’t feel out on a limb. One glass of wine won’t do me any harm. It won’t kill me.”

“Do you trust me, Gilli?” He cupped my face with his hands, tilting my head back slightly. “Do you trust Dick?”

“Yes.” I said without hesitation.

“Then trust us to make the right choices. Stop fighting and give in to what we want for you instead of trying to hang onto what you want for yourself.” He held me by the shoulders. “I’m going to make it clear again. No alcohol. It’s a permanent rule, a hard limit. It’s up to me what you can and can’t have and I’m saying no to alcohol.

No is a simple word, Gillibran, it has one plain meaning so there’s nothing for you to misunderstand. I’ll punish you if you raise the issue again.” He let go of me.

“Is everything all right?” Dick came into the kitchen, his eyes scanning first Shane’s face and then mine.

“Fine, just Gilli being Gilli. I’ll tell you about it later. He’s about to make coffee, do you want one?” Dick shook his head. Shane turned to me. “I’m going to take Leo a glass of port. I’ll have coffee, bring it through when you’ve made it and make sure you stay through.” He swiped a mild paw at my bottom, kissed Dick on the cheek and took Leo his glass of port.

Dick folded his arms and gave me an aristocratic glare. “Have you been rowing with poor Leo again?”

“Yes.” I said truthfully.

“What about.”

“I questioned his sanity in paying twenty-nine quid for a single wine glass. It’s beyond fucking madness.”

“You’re a bloody pest. You’ve been a pest for weeks.”

“I know, Dick, sorry.”

“Stop being a silly arse, make the coffee and join in with the rest of us.” He gave me a cross kiss, helped himself to a glass of wine and returned to the lounge.

Venturing in after him I cheerfully asked if anyone else fancied a coffee. Leo and Mike accepted, but Jak made a request for another lager, which I ‘forgot’ to put on the tray so he had to get it himself. Petty? Moi? Never. I have poor short-term memory that’s all, or selective amnesia as Shane calls it.

With Shane’s arm around me the rest of the afternoon passed more equably.

Watching cricket seems marginally less boring when you’re cuddled up to someone.

You can slump into a coma safe in the knowledge there’s someone around to revive you. Given the circumstances I was aware I’d gotten off lightly and I was grateful.

Maybe it was Shane’s way of making up for hurting my feelings earlier in the day?

What he’d said had been brutally true, but sometimes the brutal truth isn’t the best truth, sometimes the truth needs to be dressed in silk rather than clad in armour.

Leo looked pleased, and a bit self-satisfied, when I settled down beside Shane, guessing I’d done the decent thing and owned up to my rebellious action. Not that I’d had a lot of choice. I was certain he had meant what he said about telling Shane if I hadn’t told him myself. Like Shane he’s an old school boss man, duty and respect are important considerations to him. Would I have succumbed if he hadn’t stuck his oar in? As I told Shane I really don’t know, it was a fifty-fifty situation. It could have gone either way.

Leo saw us to the door when our taxi arrived and we took our leave later that evening. After embracing Dick and Shane he turned to me. “No hard feelings?” He held out his hand.

“No hard feelings.” I took and stiffly shook his hand and then made to let go, only the big sod gripped mine tighter and pulled me into a hug before I could stop him.

I made a point of sending a cheque to cover the cost of the glass I’d broken. He sent me an invoice in return. It acknowledged the sum with thanks, defining it as full payment of fine for the crime of mutiny. It was signed ‘Captain Pugwash.’

As I said before, some things in life are resolved once and for all and some things are like viruses, they constantly re-evolve. The alcohol virus mutated and struck again on the weekend of my birthday, less than a fortnight after the Bank Holiday affair at Leo’s. Up until then I was fine, getting on with life and the boyfriends in relative harmony.

Dick and Shane’s main birthday gift to me was a luxury weekend break, Friday to Sunday, no expense spared. I was delighted. The destination was a gorgeous Regency hotel on the shores of Lake Ullswater. We had ensuite bedrooms with balconied views of the lake and fells. I loved it, until the virus struck without warning on Friday evening at dinner.

The waiter took our orders and then proffered the wine list, asking if we wished to select something to go with our food. Birthdays are usually celebrated with champagne. I looked forward to it. For some insane reason I believed the no alcohol stipulation would be lifted if only for one evening in honour of my birthday. I wanted it to be lifted and after all birthday wishes are supposed to come true, aren’t they?