Son of Heaven (5 page)

Change. It was coming. Only none of them knew from which direction.

Tom leaned close, speaking to his ear. ‘I’ve got to go. See you in the morning, eh?’

Jake nodded, looking on as Tom said his farewells, then went outside, back into the crisp late evening air.

The bonfire had burned down. In the cleared space near where Old Josh sat behind his speakers, couples were slow dancing now, lost in the music, while overhead the moon sat full and large in the
cloudless sky, a pearled circle against the dark.

Jake smiled. The world could fall apart and still people would be dancing.

‘Jake…?’

He went across. Their table was in deep shadow. Only one figure sat there now, hunched in to herself, as if against the cold.

‘Mary? Where are the others?’

‘Gone off.’ She smiled at him, then patted the bench beside her. ‘Come and sit with me.’

He sat, feeling her shuffle up to him, her warmth against his side.

‘Been putting the world to rights, have you?’

He smiled. ‘Tom’s gone home.’

‘I know.’ She took his arm, put it round her shoulders.

‘Mary?’

‘I’m cold, is all.’

He closed his eyes, feeling her snuggle in against him. It felt nice. Warm and friendly.

‘Jake?’

‘What?’

‘What we said earlier. About you needing a woman…’

He looked at her again; saw how intently she was watching him.

‘What’s goin’ on? You and Tom. You’ve been odd tonight, the pair of you.’

‘
Odd?
’ She feigned offence, then smiled. ‘It’s nothing… You want to dance?’

‘I don’t do dancing.’

‘No?’ She sighed. ‘Oh, go on… Please, Jake. For me. Just one dance? I’d dance with Tom, only Tom’s not here…’

Jake shrugged. ‘All right. But just the one. Cos Tom’s not here.’

She held his hand as they walked across. The song ended. As the next began he took her in his arms. It was The Verve. ‘Lucky Man’.

‘Oh, Jake… I love this song…’

He held her close, closing his eyes, letting himself succumb to the warmth of her. Enjoying the way she pressed against him, swaying gently, the way she softly sang along to the words of the old
song.

‘You know what?’

‘What?’ She spoke into his neck, a lazy drawl, her breath warm against his flesh.

‘I feel like I’ve been set up.’

She laughed, then drew her face back slightly, looking up into his face. She was about to say something more, then changed her mind. She looked down, away from him.

He slowed, then stopped. ‘What?’ he asked gently. ‘What is it?’

‘Nothing…’ She met his eyes again and smiled, as if to reassure him, but there was a shadow now behind the smile.

‘
What?
Tell me.’

‘It’s nothing.
Really
. Just hold me, Jake. Just dance with me.’

Peter drew his face back, away from Meg’s, then gave a little shiver. Her mouth was so soft, so sweetly moist, so deliciously yielding to his own. And her
eyes…

He squeezed her hands, which lay in his, and smiled.

They were leaning against the castle wall, at the top of the great slope, the ruins of the King’s Tower silhouetted against the sky at their backs. Below them and to the left, they could
see the inn, its long, walled garden seeming to glow like a broad gash of gold against the darkness of the surrounding countryside. From where they were they could see people coming and going, hear
the music drifting up from below.

‘Do you think we’re always gonna live here?’

‘I dunno,’ she said. ‘I s’pose so. Unless we get our own place…’

‘Is that what you want?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘Yeah… I s’pose so. Only…’

He looked away, across the dark countryside towards the sea.

‘Go on,’ she said. ‘Only what?’

‘Only I’d like to see things. You know…’

She smiled then shook her head. ‘No, I don’t, silly. Tell me. What kind of things?’

‘Oh…
things
. Places, I guess. I mean, it’s daft. I’ve never even been to Dorchester!’

‘You will. When you’re older.’

‘Yeah, but that’s not what I meant. I want to see lots of different places. London, for instance…’

‘
Lunnun?
’ She gave him a look of horror. ‘What d’you wanna go see that for? It’s a
horrible
place. A place of living corpses.’

‘So they say. But what if they’re wrong?’

‘They ain’t wrong. They’ve spoken to people who’ve been there. There’s cannibals there… yeah, and worse things!’

He looked away, impatient with her suddenly, then relented. It wasn’t her fault. It was this place. It was like his dad said, the locals devoured rumours, and the more garish the rumour
the more gullible they seemed. But he wasn’t going to argue with Meg over it.

He stood, putting his fingers to his teeth to whistle. ‘Here, Boy!’

Almost at once, Boy came bounding out of the darkness, prostrating himself at Peter’s feet to be stroked and fussed over.

He looked to her again. She was watching him, contrite now.

‘Sorry…’

‘No, it’s me.’ He straightened up, then, moving closer, gently placed his hands upon her shoulders. Once more they kissed, a long, slow kiss.

Drawing back from her, he smiled. ‘I’d best get you home. It’s late.’

Her smile mirrored his own. ‘Race you down the hill…’

He laughed, then nodded. ‘No cheating, mind…’

And off they ran, whooping as they did, down into the dark bowl of the inner courtyard and on, through the ancient gate, running full tilt, Boy barking excitedly as he ran, the sound of their
childish laughter echoing up into the dark.

One dance had become a dozen. Slowly the villagers had gone home, until now it was just he and she, unwatched, unnoticed on the dance floor.

Now, as Old Josh announced the last song of the night, Jake sighed deeply then kissed her on the tip of her nose.

‘Tha’s nice,’ she said, nuzzling in to him. ‘You sha…’

‘You’re drunk, Mary Hubbard.’

She giggled. ‘I know. I…’

He put a finger to her lips. ‘One more dance and I’ll take you home. Tom’ll be wondering where you’ve got to.’

‘Tom knows where I’ve got to. I’m wi’ you.’

It was said slurringly. But she wasn’t falling down drunk yet. Nor did he intend to let her be.

‘What’s up?’ he asked her gently, as the first bars of the song rang out. ‘What’s the matter, my pretty girl?’

She laughed huskily, then pressed closer. ‘I like it when you say that. And this song…’

Old Josh had done them proud, classic after classic, but this was the best of the lot. ‘Nights In White Satin’.

Jake closed his eyes. Normally he didn’t dance. Even when Annie had been alive he’d been a reluctant partner. But with Mary…

Perhaps it was because he’d been so long without a woman, but this last hour had been magical. Her closeness had robbed him of his senses. The scent of her, the warmth of her all too
female body against his own, had been intoxicating.

He squeezed her gently, feeling a real tenderness for her at that moment. ‘Thank you, Mary. You don’t know how pleasant it’s been.’

She met his eyes again. ‘You’re welcome, my love. Any time.’

He laughed. ‘You really
are
drunk, aren’t you?’

She nodded exaggeratedly. ‘Really,
really
drunk.’

‘But thank you, anyway. You and Tom. For being such good friends. For…’

She put a finger to
his
lips. ‘Nuff…’ She smiled at him again. ‘You’re a good dancer, you know. You have the feel for it.’

‘Do I?’

‘You do. And I bet you’re a good kisser, too.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

Only when she smiled this time he had to look away, because he really wanted to kiss her. She was Tom’s, yes, and he would never hurt his friend, only he so wanted to kiss her. Wanted it
more than anything. Only, if he kissed her, what then?

‘
Jake?
Are you okay?’

She drew his face back with her fingers. Made him look at her again.

He studied her face, seeing both how like and unlike Annie she was. In some ways more beautiful, in others…

‘I miss her, Mary. Every fucking day.’

Her face creased in sympathy. ‘I know. I miss her too.’

‘Yeah… but that’s not what I meant. In my bed. You were right.’

‘Ah…’ She looked down, suddenly less drunk.

‘Tonight…’ He took a long, shivering breath. ‘Tonight’s been magical. I’m glad you were here with me. I…’

She pushed her face up into his and kissed him, full on the lips, a soft, warm, welcoming kiss that, after dancing with her so long, he had no power to resist. In an instant he was kissing her
back, passionately, the two of them locked in an embrace, her body pressed against his own.

He broke from it, gasping. He wanted to take her, right there and then. And he knew for a fact that she would let him – that
she
wanted
him
. He had only to take her. Only it
wasn’t right. She was Tom’s. She had always been Tom’s. And he owed Tom everything.

‘Mary… I…’

Mary stood there a moment, staring at him wildly, then took a step back. She looked away, up into the sky, then back at him. ‘You’d better go…’

He took a step towards her. ‘I’m sorry. I really am. I…’

‘Jake! For fuck’s sake go!’

It had a sobering effect. He stared at her, seeing how troubled she was, how agitated, then turned and fled. Away from her, as fast as he could run. Yet as he ran, out along the curving,
chalk-lined path and left onto the Knowle road, he could still see her in his mind, could feel her lips, moist yet burning against his own, her breasts pressed softly against his chest, and knew he
would not sleep.

‘Oh god… Oh Jesus Christ, Tom… forgive me…’

Worst of all he kept seeing her eyes – eyes that were like his own sweet Annie’s eyes.

‘Oh Christ… oh, Jesus no.’

Too late, he thought. Too fucking late.

Chapter 2

THE NATURE OF THE CATASTROPHE

J
ake slept badly. He woke before first light and, unable to lie there, went down and lit a fire in the kitchen grate. Then he sat and cleaned his
gun, his mind returning again and again to the events of the previous night.

Until now he’d been all right, or, if not, then he’d at least been able to cope. Much of that was down to Tom and Mary. When he’d been at his most desperate, in those awful
first few months after Annie’s death, it was they who had helped get him through.

One kiss and it had all changed.

The thing that nagged at him was this: that he didn’t know why. It clearly wasn’t because Mary was unhappy. He had only to think of her last night, hanging on Tom’s arm,
laughing at his awful, corny jokes, to know that she was still in love with him. That much was self-evident. Why, then, tilt her cap at him? Or was that Tom’s doing? Was Tom’s
friendship that unselfish, that he’d offer up his wife? If so, then why now? What had changed to make him suddenly so generous?

Only that was it. Jake just couldn’t imagine how, were he in Tom’s place, he could even
think
of sharing the woman he loved. It went against nature.

What then? What had made Mary come on to him? Why, when she had never asked before, had she asked him to dance with her last night? Was it the drink?

He knew it wasn’t. He’d seen her much more drunk than that. Falling over drunk. But she had never made a pass at him; never given the slightest hint that she harboured any hidden
feelings. Until last night.

Jake sighed, then set the gun down.

So what now? Did he pretend it had never happened? Greet Tom with a cheery welcome? Slap Tom’s back and ignore the feelings Mary had woken in him?

It was that which disturbed him most. That he had liked it. That he had wanted it. And much more than just a kiss. In the secrecy of his thoughts he could admit it now. Feeling her against him,
kissing her, had affected him profoundly. In the darkness he had dreamed of her. Dreamed of lying naked with her. Of kissing her neck and breasts. Of fucking her.

He closed his eyes. In the corner, sprawled out in his basket, Boy shifted, gave a low growl and then a bark.

Peter stood in the doorway.

‘You didn’t have to get up yet, lad.’

Peter knuckled his eyes and yawned. ‘It’s still dark out. You all right?’

Jake smiled. ‘Just a bit hung over. Did
you
have a good evening?’

Peter grinned. ‘Yeah. We hung about a bit, up on the battlements.’

‘All of you?’ But Jake knew the answer even before he asked. In any case, Peter, accustomed to his father’s teasing, dodged the issue expertly.

‘Shall I make breakfast?’

‘You don’t have to, lad. We’ll stop off at Wareham and have something there.’

‘Tea, then?’

‘Coffee, if you’re doing it.’

Peter looked at him, surprised. Coffee was a luxury item. It was rare for them to have it. He nodded, then, filling the kettle, set it on the grid above the fire, whistling to himself all the
while.

‘You like that tune, son?’

Peter turned his head. ‘What tune’s that?’

‘The one you’re whistling. Josh played it last night.’