Chapter Forty-Four Zig
Zig didn’t hang around after his shift. He cleared up in record time and was out the door while Ange was still saying goodnight. No way was he hanging around chatting when Si would be all on his own back at the flat.
Who knew where Dad had disappeared off to after he’d left the pub? Zig didn’t trust him any further than he could throw him. It’d be just like the old bastard to cause trouble and make sure Zig didn’t forget who was in charge.
Christ. Tears pricked at the corners of Zig’s eyes. He’d thought he was free. Thought he could be happy. Now . . . Zig couldn’t see any end in sight. It wouldn’t be only one job. He’d be sucked back into Dad’s life, and Si would never be safe.
He stopped dead on the street, gut-punched by a realisation. If he wanted to get out, he’d have to leave Glastonbury. Leave Si. If Zig wasn’t there, Si would be safe.
Or would Dad hurt him in revenge? God, if only he could think. Misery spread through his entire body. He’d never get out. He’d never be free because he was too fucking stupid.
Zig balled up a fist and punched the nearby wall. It hurt like fuck, and it didn’t do a thing to distract him from the pain inside. Stupid. Zig’s internal voice was sounding like Dad again.
“Are you all right, my lover?” A large woman in long skirts was peering at him in concern, while her bloke, who was even larger, hovered protectively.
Zig wanted to burst into tears. He managed to dredge up some kind of a smile instead. “Yeah. I’ll live. Been a day, you know?”
“You go home and get some ice on that hand,” she told him firmly.
“Have a hot drink, and watch something nice on telly. And make sure you call someone before you go doing any more damage to yourself. Samaritans, if you don’t want to talk to anyone you know.
Google them. Now, are you going to be okay getting home? ”
Zig nodded. “It ain’t far.”
“We can come with if you want,” she insisted. “So you’re not on your own.”
“Nah. I’m good. I’ve . . . I’ve got someone waiting.” His heart broke again at the thought of Si. “I better go.”
“Well, I hope they take care of you. Remember what I told you, won’t you?”
He nodded again and strode away, head down, before she could kill him with any more kindness.
Zig took a deep breath and pasted on a smile as he put his key in the door to the flat.
Gotta act normal. He couldn’t tell Si what had happened.
Si’s world was good, and kind, and decent.
Dad, and his crimes, and his fucking vengeance couldn’t be allowed to taint it.
And what about you, then? an inner voice demanded.
Aren’t you tainting Si’s world by being in it?
Zig felt sick. I’ll sort this out, he told himself desperately.
I’ll think of something, and Si will never have to know Dad was here.
But he needed time to get his head round it all. To work out what the fuck he was going to do.
He kicked off his trainers and walked through to the living room, where Si was on the sofa nursing a can of beer.
“You all right there, my lover?” Si asked.
Was he giving Zig a searching look?
Nah, your guilty fucking conscience is seeing things. Zig laughed awkwardly. “Sounds bloody weird you calling me that. Seeing as it’s actually true.”
Si blinked. “That how you think of me, is it? Your lover?”
Ah, fuck. “Well, you know. We’re shagging, ain’t we?” And so maybe you ain’t my lover, but I’m bloody well yours.
There was a pause. “You have a good evening at the pub?”
Fucking terrible. “It was okay. Busy, though. I’m run off me feet.” Zig flopped down onto the sofa next to Si. Not touching, simply . . . there.
Side by side, there wasn’t the pressure to look Si in the face.
“No trouble, I hope?” Si asked.
Was there something significant in his tone?
“Nah. Nothing. Dead boring, really.”
There was another pause before Si spoke again. “I tried to ring you, earlier, but couldn’t get through. Problem with your phone?”
Zig frowned and pulled it out of his pocket. “Shit. Forgot to switch it on again, didn’t I? I was up at the Chalice Well this afternoon. You been there? It’s a technology-free zone.” He grinned and thumbed it to life. “Huh. Three missed calls. Was it something urgent?”
“No, it was— Here, what’ve you done to your hand?” Si grabbed his right hand, the one that’d lost the argument with the wall.
Fuck. Zig should have known he’d notice the swelling knuckles.
“Nothing! Uh, slammed the hatch on it. You know, the one that lifts up to let you out the bar? Ange went through to, uh, talk to some regulars, and she left it open. Then Finn came over and shut it, but I’d, uh, left me hand there.
” Zig’s laugh sounded fake even to him. “Felt a proper numpty, didn’t I? ”
“You ought to ice that. You sit there, and I’ll get the frozen peas.” Si disappeared into the kitchen, coming back with a bundle wrapped in a tea towel.
Zig’s heart clenched. “You’re too good to me, you know that?” He took the parcel and applied it to his throbbing hand. It didn’t exactly make it feel better, but he knew it’d reduce the swelling.
“You want a beer with that?” Si asked. “Or some painkillers?”
Zig thought of the motherly woman in the street. “How about a cup of cocoa? And maybe we could watch some more Doctor Who?”
“Yeah, course.” Si went off to the kitchen again, and the kettle began to boil.
The TV remote was harder to work with his left hand, but Zig managed to navigate to iPlayer. Si came back with two steaming mugs, sat down on the sofa, and put his arm around Zig’s shoulders.
Zig sank into his embrace, wishing to God that the world would bugger off and leave them alone.