The Devil's Trill Sonata (22 page)

Still…he couldn’t shake the nagging little guilt at the pit of his stomach every time he sent Darren a picture from his phone, and he sent
loads
. He sent an old-fashioned postcard from the Louvre, with kisses around all the frame, even though it wouldn’t reach Southampton before they’d returned to Cambridge and probably had a week’s worth of classes again. He even sent a
wish you were here x
from a riverboat on the Seine, but was rebuffed with
dont think ella would like that do u?
and a stony silence when he sent a picture of sunset over the river a little while later.

“Just ignore him,” Ella advised. “If he wants to be pissy, let him. It’s not like you decided not to go and see him the
day before
, is it? And anyway, you can always visit another weekend. It’s not like he’s going anywhere.”

It’s not like Paris is going anywhere either
, said the voice in his head, and he shrugged it off awkwardly. It had firmly sided with Darren since the argument, and refused to leave Jayden alone, especially the first night there when they collected in the hotel bar to try French wine that was actually French, instead of Welsh and slapped with a French label. (The bar round the corner from the main entrance to the college had
seriously
dodgy booze.) They’d gotten a bit drunk, and Ella had been very giggly and dropping loads of hints about how good-looking Jonathon was, and the little voice had gone a bit mental and started yelling at Jayden about how he had a boyfriend on the south coast and had he just
forgotten
that, by any chance?

The little voice could go to hell, too. Paris wasn’t always going to be here, because he didn’t have the money to come, and Darren didn’t earn that much because he wasn’t out of his training period yet, and anyway, Darren not earning much meant that Darren wasn’t exactly jetting off all over the world either. He was staying in Southampton, so Jayden could visit him a lot there. And he
could
visit Darren another weekend; he got like twenty days annual leave a year, for God’s sake, he was just making a fuss, and…and…

Paris was beautiful. But it was also tinged with a little bitterness.

* * * *

On the last night in Paris, they decided to go to a restaurant: a fancy French (obviously) one overlooking the Seine, with a three-course menu and exorbitant prices. Jonathon wielded his father’s credit card and said they might as well go out with a bang, and Jayden spent most of the time getting ready looking on the internet for which fork to use first.

So he jumped violently when someone knocked on the door.

“Can I come in?”

Jonathon.

“Oh,” he said and fumbled with his tie. “Um, yes.”

Jonathon slipped into the room, closing the door discreetly. “Ella’s putting on her makeup,” he said by way of explanation, which meant they had at least twenty more minutes. “And then her tights.” Ah, thirty then.

“Oh,” Jayden said again, because he wasn’t really sure of what to say. It was always a bit awkward if it was just him and Jonathon; he felt kind of weird around him, ever since Ella had said that he liked him. It was just…Jayden had never been liked by anyone he didn’t like back—mostly because the only person who’d ever liked him was Darren, and that was kind of depressing if he thought too hard about it, but anyway…the
point
was that he just…he didn’t know what to
do
around those kinds of people.

“Have you liked Paris?” Jonathon asked, sticking his hands in his pockets and glancing around the room.

“Yeah,” Jayden said. “I mean, um. It’s very…” Very what? “Interesting,” he finished lamely. “Um, lots of history and everything, you know.”

“Mm,” Jonathon hummed, dropped his head, and laughed a little. “My grandfather was French, you know. My mother’s father. So I suppose I’m a little bound to like Paris.”

“My boyfriend’s quarter-Iranian,” Jayden blurted out almost desperately. He fumbled with his tie again, unknotting it and restarting the attempt at getting it neat. “Um, same thing, mother’s father. Um.”

“Really?” Jonathon said, and paused. “That…explains the hair, I think.”

Jayden laughed awkwardly. “I guess so, yes.”

Jonathon shuffled his feet. “Are you two still…together?”

“Yes,” Jayden said instantly.

“I just ask because…well, Ella said you’ve been having some problems, and then the other day your Facebook status changed, so I just…wondered.”

“He’s a bit mad at me right now,” Jayden admitted. “But we’re still together.”

“Right,” Jonathon said.

“Ella…” Jayden’s jaw worked and he half-started a couple of attempts before settling on: “Ella said you…like me.”

“Yes,” Jonathon admitted frankly. For a split second, the flat tone was a tiny bit Darren-esque, but the sight of him in his expensive suit and equally expensive haircut killed it.

“Um…”

“Look.” Jonathon extracted his hands and held them up. “You’re a clever, good-looking, sweet kind of guy, and yes, I’m attracted to you. I thought you were interesting the moment I met you, and I still think that, but I’m not some cheap waiter who flirts with a guy on his anniversary dinner. You have a boyfriend, and I respect that, and I would never make a move on a guy I knew to have a partner already.”

The tight anxiety in Jayden’s gut began to ease.

“I just…want you to be aware. You know, in case you and Dean…”

“Darren.”

“Darren, sorry, God.” Jonathon flushed a little under his carefully maintained tan, and Jayden fidgeted. “But yes. In case you and Darren…part ways, just…keep me in mind? That’s all I’d ever ask.”

Jayden opened his mouth to…to what? To say no way, because Jonathon just wasn’t his type? That would be cruel, wouldn’t it, especially when Jonathon (okay, Jonathon’s father) had paid for this entire trip? And unnecessary, once he sorted everything out with Darren and they got back on track—which they
would
, at least over the summer, because Jayden was going to make
sure
they did. He was
sick
of all this.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said instead diplomatically, and Jonathon offered him a small smile.

“And…ignore Ella?” he asked, grinning a little bashfully. “She exaggerates.”

“Yeah, she does,” Jayden agreed and rolled his eyes. “She thinks Darren and I are really on the rocks.”

“I…can’t honestly say I hope you’re
not
, but…you know, whatever,” Jonathon said, and Jayden warmed to him a little for the honesty.

“Look,” he offered, “should we meet Ella downstairs in the bar? I mean, she’s going to take ages anyway and we don’t ever really talk to each other, and…”

“That’d be nice,” Jonathon said, and really, when he smiled properly, he didn’t look half bad.

* * * *

Jayden made his decision the next morning. They got an early morning train back, reaching St. Pancras International before nine, and Jayden made the decision then and there, upon the sight of a couple kissing (and borderline shagging) on platform two as the train pulled in.

“I’m going to Southampton for a couple of days,” he said on a whim, and Ella sighed.

“Oh, Jayden.”

“It’s not fair I bailed, and I can always do a couple of the essays while I’m there, and classes don’t start for another week, so I should go and see him,” Jayden said hastily and bit his lip. “I’ll be back by Sunday at the latest.”

“But…”

“Go on,” Jonathon interrupted, and Jayden gave him a grateful smile. “Deliver the tacky present in person. He’ll like it, right? His kind of thing.” It completely wasn’t, but Jayden decided to let it go. Ella still looked mutinous, and he gratefully accepted having Jonathon vaguely onside.

“I’ll see you both when I get back,” he said and rummaged for his railcard.

He left them at the escalators to the Underground, hopping across London to Waterloo and forking out for a last-minute ticket. It would sting his bank account, but it would placate Darren (hopefully) and he’d get to meet Rachel and anyway, it’d be okay. He’d just have to budget a little tighter for next month, maybe, or wheedle a little money out of Dad. Or Darren. Maybe if Darren was pleased enough to see him…

Fat chance,
said the voice in his head.
He’s still furious with you for bailing.

On the train (which was nearly full, and Jayden ended up half in the aisle because he had to sit next to an obscenely fat woman who oozed into his seat whether the arm rest was up or down), he sent a quick text, and hoped that Darren wasn’t working late.

I’m back from Paris, and I’m on the 9:38 to Southampton Central :)

He held the phone all the way to Southampton—a more than two-hour journey—but received absolutely no reply.

Jayden didn’t have Darren’s landline number, or the mobile number of his housemate Rachel, but he did have Darren’s address, and so when he reached the station without reply, decided to try going directly to the house and seeing if he couldn’t persuade someone to let him in. The cabbie thankfully knew where the road was, and when the taxi turned into it, it became obvious why: Darren’s street was a long, straight, leafy avenue with limp-looking birch trees lining the edge of the cracked pavement. The houses were tall, three or four storey jobs, but all looked converted into flats.

Number 92 was a four-storey, red-roofed house with huge gable windows and a scraggly bunch of bushes around a long drive that ran down the side of the building. Darren’s car was absent, but someone else’s was there, and once Jayden had gotten rid of the taxi and lugged his bag up the steps, he peered at the names by the individual doorbells. Which were helpfully done by first name, so he found
RACHEL Y
and pressed it.

A bell bellowed somewhere in the hollow depths of the house, and Jayden released it hastily. Silence fell for a brief second, and then a woman’s voice said, “Yeah?”

“Um, is that Rachel?”

“Duh.”

Jayden winced. “Um, this is Jayden Phillips. I’m Darren’s boyfriend, but he’s not in, so…”

“…Er, all right. Hang on a sec, I’ll come down, just hang about,” she said hastily, and the intercom cut out. Jayden fidgeted, taking a step back from the door to peer up at the house, but there was no indication of which flat she lived in. They were done by letter. Darren had said she was a neighbour, so maybe she lived in the attic too? Or maybe she lived in Flat B? Or D, but what if they weren’t lettered logically, because then…

Footsteps pounded inside, and then the door rattled and creaked back. A tall, thin rake of a woman—or girl, she didn’t look any older than Jayden—peered around the edge of the flaking paintwork, and scowled at him. She was recognisable from Facebook, with cropped dark hair and large ears, and then the scowl melted off.

“Bloody hell, so it is,” she said. “He didn’t say you were coming!”

“Um, I only made up my mind today.”

“Well, you’ve missed him a bit, he’s at work,” she said and opened the door wide. “Come on, you can keep me company ‘til he gets back. He’s due at three today, I think, but the instructors aren’t known for letting them out on time!”

She was…kind of like Jayden had expected from Darren’s exasperated descriptions and the Facebook posts and photos. She was wearing a baggy T-shirt down to her knees and tight, black leggings that really didn’t match her enormous fluffy pink slippers. She
did
live on the top floor, leading Jayden all the way to the top of the house, where two doors split off at the top of a rickety flight of dark stairs.

“That’s his flat,” she said, prodding the closed door. “I have a spare key for it that Mrs. Singh gave me when it was just me up here, to let workmen in and whatever, but it’s in my car at the minute.”

“That’s okay,” Jayden said.

“It’s the same as my flat,” she said, taking him into a tiny sort of converted bedsit. The sloping roof and sky window gave an amazing view, but the flat itself was tiny: a kitchenette with the bed pressed up to the edge of one counter, and a battered sofa joined to the other end. It couldn’t have been more than twenty feet across, and the bathroom door couldn’t open all the way thanks to a bookshelf Rachel had wedged into the only bare corner. It was cluttered with books and pictures drawn by (Jayden presumed) little kids, and coffee mugs. Lots of coffee mugs. Maybe there was a reason Darren had instantly befriended her. “Well, it’s tidier. He’s tidy, your boyfriend.”

“He’s, um, sort of tidy,” Jayden amended. Darren
was
generally fairly tidy (habit, Jayden suspected, having seen the pristine condition of the Peace household) but he was also crap at remembering to wash things up, and left mug rings and empty plates all over the place. Left to his own devices, Jayden was sure there’d be the odd mouldy glass in the locked flat across the landing.

“Tidiest man I’ve ever met,” Rachel said and pointed at the sofa. “Sit down, then. Tea?”

“Um, sure, okay.”

“You have to dish dirt, by the way, or you can’t use my flat. I want embarrassing stories about him. Weaknesses. Everything. Is he ticklish?” she asked hopefully as she filled a kettle that looked older than she was.

“Um, no,” Jayden said.
Unfortunately
, the voice in the back of his head added. “He’s got a little sensitive bit behind his ear, though,” he offered when she scowled. “Um, if you scratch behind his ear, he sort of…shivers, and it’s a bit weird and he doesn’t like it very much, so…”

“I like you already,” Rachel beamed and bounced to sit cross-legged beside him while the kettle boiled. “Did you really meet at school?”

“…Sort of. We didn’t go to the
same
school, but we were…in school,” Jayden finished lamely. He felt a little overwhelmed by this effusive neighbour, and simultaneously couldn’t see Darren putting up with her, but couldn’t see Rachel letting Darren
not
put up with her. Maybe that was why it worked.

“I’m a teacher,” she said and huffed. “Well, teaching assistant. Well, I am when they’re not having teacher training days.”