Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
I watch idly as the countryside flashes by outside the train. Green fields and country lanes run alongside us, and occasionally there’s the flash of blue from the sea. I wish I could open the window and inhale the familiar scents of the countryside. Of home.
I trace my finger over the window, making patterns as my thoughts meander. This is the train we used to catch when Zeke and I were coming back from boarding school. I was born and raised in London, but I came to Devon when I was nine, after my mum married a wealthy farmer.
Clive had been unused to kids, and I’d been as noisy and inappropriate as I am as an adult, but he’d still been very kind, and something about the quiet man had made me feel safe.
He’d paid for the expensive school I attended, and despite not offering him much of a return on his investment in that department, he never showed that he was bothered.
That period when he was with my mum has always been one of the very best memories of my childhood.
For such a London boy, I’d quickly fallen in love with Devon, which had come as a surprise to my mum, who didn’t echo my affection for the place.
There was just something about the farm and the wide-open spaces that had made me feel like I was stretching out free to run and jump.
I look at the few remaining passengers in my carriage, and for a second, I expect to see myself in my school uniform, looking out for the station that meant home. Only then, I was usually with Zeke.
Zeke. His parents owned the farm next to Clive’s, and he attended the same school that Clive had sent me to.
He’d been a year older than me and was a clever boy and very gifted at sports.
To make the perfect trifecta, he was also very dreamy—thick brown hair and those sage-green eyes.
In fact, it was he who’d made me realise I was gay.
It’s a shame he didn’t share the same realisation, but I suppose that’s life.
Instead, he’d been disappointingly straight and dated one of the most popular girls at our school.
They’d made quite the couple, and everyone had wanted to know them.
He could have been an arsehole with all that attention, but he never was.
Instead, he was unfailingly kind, especially to the little fish out of water that was me.
He’d stuck up for me a few times—enough to ensure I wasn’t bullied even if my mouth could have defended myself very ably, and he never showed any irritation with the slavish devotion I’d repaid him with.
We’d become the best of friends, and I still remember those train journeys.
I’d talked and talked, and he’d smiled, and I’d felt a total acceptance of who I was.
Now I’m an adult, I realise how rare that feeling is.
The train slows, and I realise this is my stop.
I jump up, grab my bag, and make my way to the door.
The station is small and deserted, and I linger for a second, watching the train disappear into the distance.
It feels like I’m caught between two worlds.
I shake off the silly thought and head for the exit and the car park where Zeke said he’d meet me.
I spot the dusty Land Rover immediately, and I know it’s his even before he steps out. He’s wearing jeans and a green polo shirt, and his face breaks into his gentle smile as soon as he sees me.
“Hey,” I say breathlessly as I come to a standstill in front of him. “Here I am.”
“Here you are.” He reaches out and hugs me, and for a second, I flounder but then relax into his arms. He’s big and broad, and he smells of fabric softener and sunshine.
I try to inhale his scent and fix it in my mind before realising that huffing him like he’s a Pritt stick might not be the way to go.
He pulls back. “I’m glad I was on time. At some points today, I wondered whether getting away would be impossible.”
“Emergency on the farm?
“Just the usual stuff.”
“Chaos, then.”
He laughs and opens the car door for me, making me blink, but the gesture shouldn’t surprise me. He’s always had a courtly nature. I watch him lope around the car and climb in. Then I jerk in shock as a cold nose is thrust into my ear. “Fucking hell,” I squeak.
“Get off, Bodge,” Zeke says, pushing the snout of the brown and white spaniel gently away from me. “Sorry. He’s very eager.”
“Don’t apologise.” I pet the dog, tickling his ears, and he gives a groan of happiness. “It quite took me back to weekends at the Pink Flamingo.”
He snorts. “I see you haven’t lost your sense of humour.”
“It would take an act of Armageddon to remove that. Sorry.”
He looks up at me, startled, as he puts his key in the ignition. “Why are you apologising? It’s one of your best features.”
“Shit. And here I thought it was my arse.” He laughs, and I feel my lips uptick helplessly at the lovely sound. Somehow, it’s better than anyone else’s laughter. “Why Bodge?” I ask.
He grins. “Because he’s a one-dog demolition expert. He’s never met anything he can’t break. I remember going to the breeder’s house to pick a dog, and the pack ran into the lounge. Her kid was on the sofa, and Bodge knocked him straight off. It was kismet.”
I laugh and stroke the dog again. He gives me a doggy grin in return.
Radio One is playing quietly as Zeke drives down narrow, winding roads, and I crack open the window to inhale the scent of earth and grass.
The sky is a duck-egg blue, and the afternoon sun casts dark shadows over the road.
I remember with clarity how it would be cool in the mornings, warm in the afternoon, and cold at night. Perfect Devon spring weather.
“I was sorry to hear about your divorce from Monica,” I say suddenly.
He jerks. “How did you know?”
I wave a careless hand. “I met Jason Phipps at a party a few years ago. Do you remember him?”
“Blond-haired lad who rowed for the county?”
I nod. “And he could have taken Olympic gold in being catty.”
He laughs. “So, he told you?”
“I’m sorry.”
It’s funny to say that and mean it because Zeke’s relationship with Monica was the real reason I’d eventually cut off ties with him.
They’d got married when they left school, and it was too painful to hear him talk about Monica when I was so helplessly in love with him.
Nevertheless, I hate to think of him being hurt more than I like to think of him single.
“Don’t be. We were far too young. We were only married for a couple of years. Long enough to know we’d made a mistake and correct it.”
I want to ask why it was a mistake when they’d always seemed the perfect couple, but that probably wouldn’t be polite. Instead, I say, “I hope it was amicable.”
“It was.” The affection is rich in his voice. “We both knew it wasn’t working, and we ended it before it could become bitter. She’s one of my closest friends. She’s married again and expecting a baby now.”
“That’s nice.” I try to imagine how it feels to still be friendly with an ex, but it’s impossible. Aside from my relationship with Simon, which was as tempestuous as the sea, hookups don’t exactly provide emotional maturity. Lots of fun, though.
Bodge whines and rests his head on my shoulder, and I scratch his ear while looking out of the window. Clumps of primroses are growing wild in verges—pale lemon splashes of colour amongst the green. The cherry blossoms are out, and the trees glow pink against the sky.
The road emerges onto the valley, revealing a patchwork of fields with sheep grazing and baby lambs gambolling in the sunshine. Then we’re back into shadow with the trees casting their branches low as if trying to catch the car.
“God, I’ve missed this place,” I say softly.
He hums in agreement. “It’s the most beautiful place in the world.”
Within a few minutes, we pass the old farm where I used to live.
“Who lives there now?” I ask, looking at the massive, shiny brown gates that have replaced the old five-barred ones that once guarded the entrance.
“A family that breeds horses.”
“Are they good people? Clive would have wanted that.”
He smiles at me. “Don’t worry. The land is loved, and he’s resting peacefully.”
I tap restlessly on the window. “I suppose it’s a bit silly. I mean, I only lived here for a while. It was never mine, so why am I bothered?”
“Because you’re Georgie Sanders, and Georgie Sanders was always bothered by even the smallest of things.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Although in my sex life, I’ve done my fair share of coaxing tiny things out to play.”
He laughs. “Do you remember the hedgehog house?”
That startles a laugh out of me. “Oh my god, I’d forgotten that.
” A hedgehog kept coming into the garden, and I’d decided to build it a house.
Clive had decried it as absolute nonsense, but he’d left me to it.
“That thing was like fucking Versailles by the time I finished it. I think I even recall bedazzling it, and the bloody creature never came back.”
“Maybe it was looking for its powdered wig and reticule.”
I snort. “I was rather a strange child. I’m surprised Clive spent all that money on my education, to be honest.”
“Why?”
I shrug awkwardly. “Well, I failed my A-Levels. And look at me now. I’m a life model.”
“So?”
“It’s not exactly a profession, is it? I’m not ashamed of it,” I add quickly. “I’ve met some really interesting people over the last few years, but I’m betting I’m the only person who came out of that school and ended up taking their clothes off for money.”
“I wouldn’t take your bet. The jury’s still out on how Frank Outhwaite made his money.”
“Remembering him, it could have been anything from stripping to piracy on the open seas.”
He shrugs. “Clive didn’t believe in education solely for a future of making money. He thought it made you a well-rounded person. You may or may not have been the only life model to come out of that school, but it’s an absolute certainty that you were the most interesting person to emerge.”