Junk (27 page)

Jasper pondered the other artworks he’d seen inside the house. All of naked men and women, sometimes involved in carnal acts. He remembered the lovingly detailed genitalia.

That rosette… It looked like an orchid, all frilled and fleshy. In fact, it did look an awful lot like flesh.

“Um, Lewis? I think you might be wrong about that. I know the rest of the body isn’t there, but I’m fairly sure that’s erm, a representation of the, uh…” How to say it? His skin heated. “The female pudenda?”

“No it isn’t— Hang on. Oh bloody hell. I think you’re right. The sneaky woman!” The look of outrage mingled with a certain awe, and before Jasper knew it they were both laughing, the chuckles soon turning into full-blown belly laughs when Carroll asked them what was so funny.

“It’s the… It’s the…” Jasper said, “the fountain—”

Lewis wheezed, then hiccupped. “It’s a twat!”

That set them both off again.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“He’s a real sweetie, love,” Cassie said as Lewis followed her into the kitchen, chilli-sauce-smeared plates in hand. “I’m so happy you’ve finally met someone nice.”

“We’re not together. I told you that already.”

“Bullshit. Anyone can see you were made for each other. And you’re clearly sleeping together. I can tell from your body language.”

“You can tell? How?” It wasn’t like he’d had an erection while they were eating or anything. He hadn’t even touched Jasper any more than he’d normally touch a friend.

“Oh, it’s easy. I pick up all these little signals. Can always tell when the other tutors are shagging one of their students. They think they’re being so bloody discreet, but it’s written all over them.”

Lewis dropped his plates in the sink and began running the water, just to give himself an excuse not to look his mother in the eye. That woman could see far too much. “Okay, so we’re friends with benefits. Occasional ones. And we haven’t properly done it yet.”

“Properly done it? What’s that supposed to mean? I do hope you’re not making the heteronormative assumption that penetrative intercourse is the only kind that counts? Honestly, love, it’s all sex of a kind. Every little touch. Even just a look sometimes. Did I ever tell you about the time your father seduced me from across the dining table at a dinner party? Just a smouldering glance and a brush of his naked foot up my leg. It was one of the most erotic moments of my life. I nearly came, there and then.”

“Mum!”

“What? Honestly, your generation’s so prudish sometimes. Sometimes it seems like the sixties never happened.”

“They didn’t. Not for us. I was born in the eighties, remember?”

“Yes, of course I remember. Life under Thatcher’s government and dealing with morning sickness. Dark days, Lewis. Dark days.”

For half a second, Lewis contemplated changing the subject by getting her started on an anti-Thatcher rant, but they had to get back soon, and once she got started, it was hard to stop her. No, best he just explained the situation and got it all out in the open so she wouldn’t do anything embarrassing—well, anything
more
embarrassing—in front of Jasper before they left.

“Listen, Mum…” He lifted the rinsed plates out of the sink and fitted the plug while trying to work out how to phrase it so she’d understand him. “Me and Jasper… It’s complicated. He thinks he’s in love with me, but he’s just experiencing transference. I don’t want to lead him on by making him think we’re a proper couple.”

“But you’re happy to mess around with him?”

Lewis hung his head and felt his cheeks heat.

“Oh no, don’t get me wrong. I don’t disapprove. If two people fancy each other, they should have sex; that much is obvious. I just wondered how he was dealing with it.”

“I don’t know.”

“Of course you do. What kind of therapist are you if you don’t know how your client’s dealing with things?”

“A bad one?” He was certainly an unprofessional one, at any rate. “I don’t know, Mum. I just thought keeping him happy right now while he deals with the trauma of the clear-out would be helpful.”

“Right now? So what are you planning to do when it’s finished?”

“Break it off.” What else was possible?

“Don’t you dare, Lewis Miller! That young man thinks the world of you, and he’s the nicest one you’ve ever dragged home to meet us.”

“You’re only saying that because he complimented your artworks.”

“At least someone finally noticed my yoni fountain. Honestly, I’ve been waiting for months for one of you to figure it out. That young man has smarts. And he’s cute.”

“And he’s my client and therefore out of bounds.”

“Oh puhleeze, darling. It’s not like you’re a proper therapist with memberships to professional bodies or anything. You’re not working for the NHS. Who’s going to complain? You get to make up your own rules.”

Ouch. The proper-therapist barb stung, even though it was an old issue they’d hashed out plenty of times before. It wasn’t that Cassie was materialistic, but she’d always liked the idea of him continuing his studies and gaining a string of letters after his name. Lewis’s hurt made him more snippy than usual. “That’s right. I’m my own boss, and I get to make up my own rules, and they say no romantic relationships with clients. This is just sex and friendship. Nothing more.”

“Bullshit.”

“Bull-true.” That was a lie, and Lewis could see it written on his face as he stared down at his reflection in the dishwater. But the bubbles wouldn’t tell on him.

Much to his relief, his mum just snorted, and the room filled up with Carroll, Alan and Jasper before she could pick up the thread of the conversation. He finished the washing up quickly; then they made their excuses and left.

“I really like your folks,” Jasper said in the van on the way back. He sounded wistful, almost sad.

“They’re all right,” Carroll grudgingly admitted. “Even if they always have embarrassed the hell out of us. Remember that time I had my mates over for a sleepover, Lewis? Must have been when I was eight or nine. Well, they chose that night to have extra-noisy sex. Honestly, they were at it like rabbits back then. Thank fuck they’ve calmed down a bit since Dad’s had his health scare.”

“You really think so?” Lewis asked. He glanced over at Jasper. He’d never normally admit this in front of anyone other than Carroll, but Jasper was special. “You’re kidding yourself, sis. I still hear them at it at least two or three times a week. And if anything, they’re getting noisier. Thought Dad was going to holler the house down last week.”

“Well, so long as he doesn’t have a heart attack. God, but at sixty-nine? He must be swallowing Viagra like it’s going out of fashion.”

“Oh, that’s not meant to be good if you’ve got angina,” Jasper chipped in. “He should be careful.”

“I’ve no idea if he’s taking it.” Lewis glanced at Carroll in time to see her scowl. When she got worried, Carroll tended to get angry. “I’ll ask, okay? Discreetly.” Although how he was meant to do that, God knew. Neither of their parents were the kind to go tiptoeing around a conversational point. If you didn’t ask them something outright, they had no patience for verbal games.

He didn’t realise he was frowning himself until he felt Jasper’s hand land on his. He shot him a weak smile. It didn’t do to be feeling sorry for himself about something so small when Jasper didn’t have any family. Lewis clutched his hand back.

Both Yusef and Lewis had offered to accompany him into Mama’s room, but Jasper turned them back at the door. “Please. Just give me a minute alone with her. Maybe ten.” They’d both looked like they wanted to argue, but when Lewis nodded and said he understood, Yusef grunted a reluctant agreement.

The door opened on creaking hinges, and Jasper stepped forward, pushing it shut behind him.

Bright light dazzled him, but when he took a step sideways everything returned to darkness and he could see the single shaft of sunlight lancing in through the gap in the curtains, lighting up a beam of dust like the projector at a cinema.

“Welcome to the feature presentation,” Jasper whispered to himself. “Jasper’s Darkest Hour.” He almost giggled then, not because there was anything funny about being back in here, but just as a way to release the tightness forming in his chest. “Oh, Mama,” he began, and the words turned into a sob, which he swallowed back down.

Now that his eyes had adjusted to the gloom, he could make out her bed taking pride of place in the middle of the room. The mattress was gone now, that high-tech, constantly moving contraption that helped reduce, if not prevent, the bedsores she’d been prone to those last couple of years. Where had it got to? Perhaps the NHS had sent someone around to reclaim it. It wasn’t like Jasper had any memory of those first few months after she’d died. He didn’t have many memories of the last few years either. He’d pretty much stopped living right at the same time she had.

“Mama, I’m so sorry.” He walked over to the empty bedframe. A memory surfaced. Tangled sheets wrapped around her twitching, wasting limbs. She’d stopped mentioning them towards the end, but Jasper had still pulled them straight every few hours when he was at home. The carers who popped in while he was at work had never bothered, so Mama had complained. But then again, she’d complained about everything back then.

No, he’d stopped living long before she went. He’d stopped living the moment she got into bed and refused to get out again. The day after he’d told her he was gay.

Jasper turned to take in the rest of the room, but it swam before his eyes. He walked blindly over to the curtains and tugged them open a little way, releasing a cloud of dust. He sneezed. There, he could blame his watery eyes on that now.

Better that than admit how he’d failed her. That because he could never give her the grandchildren she yearned for, he’d given her his entire life. Everything she asked for.

Even her death.

Jasper sank to the floor as the tears spilled over, sliding down his cheeks as he howled out his pain and guilt.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

When the inhuman wail sounded, Yusef and Lewis both froze, listening in horror. “Fuck,” Yusef exclaimed, his expression mutinous. He gripped the doorknob defiantly, like he expected Lewis to stop him.

“Just open it,” Lewis urged, and when Yusef did, he deftly pulled in front of him. It was hard to see anything in the dark chaos of the room, but the mournful keening sounds helped him home in on the huddled figure under the window. He crossed the room in two strides and gathered Jasper to him carefully like he was a wounded animal. The keening gave way to desperate sobbing. Easier on the ear but no less heartrending.

“Jasper? Hey, it’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Lewis repeated the words over and over, hoping that eventually they’d sink through into whatever dark place Jasper had retreated to. “Just let it all out. That’s right. You’ve needed to for a long time, I think.” He buried his face in Jasper’s hair, inhaling the scent of herbal shampoo, its freshness at odds with the atmosphere of sorrow and guilt. As he sat there, rocking Jasper in his arms, Yusef pulled the curtains fully open. Bright sunlight bathed the cluttered space. Lewis gazed around him, trying to get a picture of the woman Jasper was so cut up about.

There were no piles of books here, but every piece of furniture was covered in stuff. It was the same kind of haphazard mix they’d uncovered behind the piles of books in the lounge. A china shepherdess figurine sat next to a plastic bag full of scrap fabric. An egg box filled with two decorated and two plain eggshells perched precariously on top of a wicker donkey wearing a sombrero. A half-finished weaving on a handheld loom rested against a wall covered in framed snapshots and embroideries. However, despite the rather chaotic nature of the space, the room had personality. Mrs. Richardson had clearly been someone who’d enjoyed travelling and collecting souvenirs, as well as all those craft projects Jasper had told him about.

There wasn’t a book in sight, but it was evident where Jasper got his cluttering habit from. The only clear space in the room was the empty bed. It sat there, a plain utilitarian metal frame with a surprising lack of stuff underneath, its very nakedness drawing the eye.

Had she died in here?

Was Jasper remembering that? His sobbing had subsided to a series of hitched breaths now, his body calming and losing the stiff tension.

Yusef picked up a conch shell from the mantelpiece. “I remember when she found this. She was so proud of herself. Told me it was just perfect for this spot.” He held it to his ear, then put it back down again with a wistful smile.

“I didn’t know you’d been away together.” Conches weren’t local, were they?

“Huh? What do you mean?”

Lewis felt Jasper stir in his arms and resumed the soothing strokes on his back. “You said she found it.”

“Oh, right. That wasn’t on a beach or anything. No, she didn’t travel. Not that I know of, anyway. This was from a charity shop somewhere. She stopped off for coffee on the way back and showed it to me.”

“So if she didn’t travel…” Lewis stared at a Delft china windmill. You could pick those up in every tourist shop in the Netherlands, and he guessed most travellers would want to keep them as a souvenir, but a fair few must end up as unwanted gifts to the friends and family who stayed behind.