Junk (26 page)

But he shoved down his own misgivings because Jasper was the one who was really suffering here. Lewis’s fears for the future couldn’t possibly compete with this level of distress. He crouched down and began packing up books.

Jasper’s hand strayed over and clasped his own.

They’d reached the last layer of books in front of the door. Lewis sat back on his heels and stared up at them. He’d grown used to the mishmash of genres up on the landing, but these stacks were even more bewildering.

“Children’s books?” Every single last one of them, and they all looked well-read too.

Jasper coloured, but when his hand ran over the spines, his touch was reverent. “I used to love this one,” he whispered, pointing at the spine of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s
The Little Prince.
“The illustrations, all those strange little planets. It wasn’t till I grew up that I realised it was all about death.”

“I always thought it was more about life,” Lewis mused. “That’s what Mum used to say, anyway. It was one of those books she said you could live by.” He paused, looking for others. Oh yes, they were here in abundance. “Like
The Neverending Story
, or
The Secret Garden
. Hey, you’ve got loads of them.”

“All my favourites.”

As Lewis took in the titles and the faded colours of the spines, it dawned on him. There wasn’t a single book that hadn’t already been published by the time he was growing up. These books broke the rules Jasper had told him about the categorisation for the landing. Books up here were meant to be ones he hadn’t read yet, but these clearly had been. Every last one of them.

“These aren’t from charity shops. These are all yours, aren’t they?”

Jasper nodded and chewed on his lower lip. The fear in his eyes now mingled with longing, making Lewis want to reach out and promise him anything. That it would all be all right. That he’d never have to hurt again. But that wasn’t how life worked, and they both knew it.

“You put them here for a reason, didn’t you?”

Lewis thought perhaps Jasper wasn’t ready to share that reason, but eventually, after a bittersweet chuckle at a title he ran his fingertips over, he began to speak.

“I couldn’t bear to look at them again. After she died. She used to read me a chapter, every night. Said it helped improve her English. I had to help her out sometimes, with the longer words. She could speak fluently, but writing and reading were tough for her.”

“I bet she enjoyed it too. I know Mum did. She used to love doing all the different voices.”

“Mama tried. Her growly monster voices always made me laugh. She’d pretend to be annoyed and tell me I should do them myself then, but she always gave in eventually.”

“You really loved her.”

Jasper’s lips tightened, his eyes going bleak.

“Hey, it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with feeling guilty about loved ones dying. We all do it.”

“We don’t all do what I’ve done.”

“What? Barricade all the difficult things up behind books? No, we don’t, but the feelings are there. Different people just find their own ways of dealing with them, that’s all. This is the way you needed to cope. It was your way of staying sane under challenging circumstances.”

Jasper shook his head, and whatever was bothering him, Lewis could see he hadn’t managed to reach it yet. Perhaps when they got into the room. He glanced down at his watch, then sprang to his feet. “Blimey, it’s almost twenty to one already. Mum and Dad will be sending out a search party. I’m surprised they haven’t called me yet.”

Just then, Carroll’s voice called up from downstairs. “Lewis? I’ve got Mum on the phone. Says we need to get over there this instant or Dad’s going to eat all the lamb and adulterate the roast spuds. He’s reaching for the cayenne pepper as we speak.”

Jasper blanched. “Chilli spuds? Seriously?”

“Didn’t I tell you Dad puts it on everything? I wasn’t joking. Come on, this lot can wait. We’ve got to go get our food while it’s still edible. And save him from eating all that fatty lamb. He’s meant to be cutting down on red meat, seeing as how it’s clogged up his arteries. Did I tell you he’s got angina?”

“No, I don’t think so. Sorry to hear that.”

“Oh, he’s okay. Just takes some meds for it. Nothing to worry about.”
Yet
, he added to himself.

Lewis tugged on Jasper’s hand but managed to pull him away with one last wistful look at his childhood books. But two more steps and Jasper froze.

“Lewis? Are the rest taking a break too? I don’t like the idea of them being here without me.”

“They’ve got sarnies with them, and they were planning to work on through. We’d get it done much faster if you were willing to let them.”

“No, I don’t think so…”

“Are you sure? We could be some time at the folks, even if we do make our excuses after pud.”

“Lewis?” The pleading tone in Jasper’s voice made Lewis turn back. Jasper’s gaze darted to the books again but higher. He was looking at the door. Oh God, Lewis had pushed too far. Jasper’s face was ashen. “It’s a ninety. The anxiety.”

“Okay, okay. It’s going to be okay.” Lewis folded Jasper into his arms, troubled to feel the way Jasper’s body tensed. “We’ll insist they take a proper break. Doesn’t matter if we still have some left to clear tomorrow, does it?”

Jasper nodded against the side of Lewis’s head, and his breath snuffled. He sounded close to tears. What on earth was in that room? Lewis glared at the door as if he could bore a hole through it with his gaze. Whatever was on the other side, Jasper could count on Lewis’s support. He hugged him fiercely, trying to put some of that security across using his body.

Eventually Jasper relaxed and mumbled a “Thanks,” against Lewis’s neck.

It was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard.

Chapter Twenty-Five

In the van, Jasper sat in the middle seat between Carroll, who was driving, and Lewis, who was staring out of the window with a troubled expression. Jasper held his bag against his chest tightly. It wasn’t until Lewis eased his hand over Jasper’s that he realised just how hard he’d been gripping it.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to go if you’re not up for it,” Lewis said.

“Bullshit,” Carroll interjected from Jasper’s other side. “I’m not going on my own and having them both interrogate me about why the two of you aren’t there. Besides, if you don’t turn up, I’m just going to tell them you’re off doing something perverted in the warehouse. Maybe involving a giant roll of shrink wrap.”

“Carroll!” Lewis complained, but Jasper laid a hand on his thigh. Lewis’s eyebrows rose, but it shut him up for the time being.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

“What? The two of them thinking you’ve seduced my brother to the kinky side? Good luck to you, I say. Can’t believe I shared a womb with someone so unrepentantly vanilla.”

“You know what he meant,” Lewis said to his twin, but now his hand was stroking Jasper’s where it still lay on his thigh.

“Yeah, yeah.” Carroll slowed the van, and Jasper realised this North Bristol suburb of modern, detached houses must be their final destination. Oh God. Lewis lived somewhere like this? What must he think of Jasper’s crumbling wreck of a house?

“Here we are, out in Blandsville again,” Lewis said as if in answer to Jasper’s unspoken worries. “Don’t be fooled by the generic exterior, though. Inside is a whole different experience.”

Generic was hardly the right word for the front garden of neatly raked, multicoloured sand, spiny plants, and the centrepiece clay statue of a large-breasted woman with her arms thrown up in the air. No, this quirky garden seemed to be sticking two fingers up at its surroundings. Jasper wondered what the neighbours made of it spoiling the long sweep of green lawns and shade trees.

When they got out, Jasper hugged his bag even tighter, like a shield. Lewis didn’t try to take his hand again as they walked up the path through the cactus garden, but at least he kept pace by Jasper’s side, chatting in a relaxed manner about his father’s tenacious attempts to grow plants that really weren’t suited to their wet, Western climate.

A pot-bellied man with silvery hair and a trimmed beard opened the door. Lewis stepped forward to hug him. The man wasn’t naked like Jasper had been half expecting, and instead wore a stripy apron over jeans and T-shirt. Professor Alan Miller, if that was who this was, studied Jasper over his son’s shoulder with warm, intelligent eyes. “So, you must be the famous Jasper I’ve been hearing all about. Welcome to Casa Miller. Hope you don’t mind barbecued food. I had a last-minute change of heart what with the weather, so I’ve chucked the lamb on the barbie.”

“Not at all. Thanks, er, and hello.” Jasper held out his hand in greeting once Lewis had been released, but Alan Miller ignored it, and before he could get too wound up about what was happening, Jasper was enveloped in a warm hug.

“No need to stand on ceremony here,” Alan said, winking. “Anything goes, pretty much.”

Carroll snorted. “You’re not kidding. I tell you, Jasper, you’re lucky they’re even wearing clothes today.”

“Yes, yes, don’t remind me. It’s far too hot for this right now. My crotch is getting horribly itchy.”

“Dad! Oversharing much?”

“Don’t you
Dad
me, Carroll Miller. Now come on. Cassie wants to see you all.”

Lewis’s mum turned out to be a willowy woman with a mass of tangled blonde ringlets, in a white dress that looked like something a country lass from a hundred years ago might have worn. Any pretence of sweet innocence soon evaporated when you caught the gleam in her eye or her dirty laugh, however. Jasper allowed himself to be enveloped in another squishy hug.

“Aww, you’re a skinny thing, aren’t you?” Cassie cooed. “Lewis normally brings them home with a bit more meat on them, but I think I’ll enjoy feeding you up.”

“Like you ever do any cooking,” Alan grumbled, but he was smiling.

“You’ve got a bit of meat here, though,” Cassie said, and Jasper stood there, mortified, as her hand squeezed his rear. “That’s where it counts, eh?” Oh God. Lewis’s mum was groping his arse. What was the protocol for situations like this? This really was the most touchy-feely family he’d ever encountered. No wonder Lewis could lay his hands on Jasper for comfort like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Mum! Stop molesting the poor man. He doesn’t bat for your team.” Lewis steered Cassie away with an apologetic smile to Jasper, who stood there, mouth opening and closing. It wasn’t till Alan pressed a bottle of beer into his hand that he remembered the contents of his bag.

“I, er, I hope these are appropriate gifts. I was going to bring wine, but then I didn’t know what you liked and I’m not exactly a connoisseur myself, but then I thought I do know books and I’ve got a few too many, so, uh, yes. Here they are.”

Cassie and Alan both smiled as he handed them over. “Oh, you sweetie,” Cassie gushed. “How did you know? I keep losing my copies of this when I lend them to colleagues. No one ever seems to be able to return it.” She flashed her copy of
Rum, Sodomy and the Lash: Piracy, Sexuality and Masculine Identity
to her children.

“Great choice,” Alan said, beaming over his copy of
Plants of the Mexican Desert
. “These pictures are amazing. Hey, Cass, what do you think about growing one of these out front?” He pointed to a giant cactus towering above a man in a large hat.

“Darling, you really don’t need to make a large phallic statement like that. You’ve got nothing to feel inadequate about.”

“Mum!” Lewis and Carroll chorused.

Cassie grinned and winked at Jasper.

Jasper started to relax as Lewis led him out onto the back deck. Here too were more cacti in pots, strange nude sculptures and borders full of ornamental grasses. It wasn’t like any garden he’d ever set foot in before, but despite the differences from his mum’s cottage garden, he felt strangely at home. Perhaps it was because of the family vibe here. His gifts had gone down well, but even without them, Jasper had the impression he’d have been treated just as warmly.

Did Lewis even know how lucky he was to have a family like this?

Jasper walked over to where Lewis was standing, resting on the distressed wooden railing and staring out over the garden, beer in hand. “I really like your folks,” he said.

“Yeah? I wasn’t sure if they’d be a bit much for you.”

“No. They’re just right.” And they were. Their easy acceptance and friendship was exactly the kind of thing he needed to relax. Jasper got the feeling he didn’t need to worry about his own quirks, because here were two people who couldn’t give a toss about keeping up appearances in any way.

Not like Jasper’s mother had been. His heart sinking at the prospect of what their return to his house would bring, Jasper mirrored Lewis’s pose and gazed out over the garden. There was a fountain in the centre of a gravel circle. A tall bronze column, but pitted and textured, like the original cast had been taken from roughly finished clay. The water trickled down gently from an ornate rosette set in one side of the column. “Did your mum make the fountain too?”

“Yep. That’s her latest project. Not sure why it wasn’t some naked satyr with a hard-on ejaculating water, but I suppose we should be grateful she abandoned the human form for at least one sculpture.”