Chapter 5 There He Goes
THERE HE GOES
MICHAEL
Ow. My head was throbbing. So was my arse.
Must have been a good night. It would come back to me in a minute, once I woke up.
I tried sitting. No, bad idea. Ow, ow, ow!
Why were there several canon balls bouncing around inside my skull?
And why did my throat feel like I’d woken up in the middle of the Sahara.
Gingerly, I sat up. The canon balls kept bouncing as I tried to open my eyes.
On my bedside cabinet was the notepad I kept by the telephone, with two paracetamol sitting on it.
There was a circle drawn around the pills with “take me” written underneath.
There was also an arrow pointing to the top edge of the sheet of paper, where a glass of water stood.
Under the arrow were the words “drink me.”
Who did I sleep with last night? Lewis Fucking Carroll? No. Shit. Mick. I slept with Mick.
It all came flooding back to me.
Fuck, bollocks, and fuck again. That was a very bad idea. Why did I do that?
Because he’s gorgeous and you love him and he wanted to shag you and you should be glad because it was without doubt the best sex of your entire life, said my inner voice. My inner voice was a twat. Correct. But a twat.
I took the painkillers and drank the water that Mick left me, smiling to myself at his thoughtfulness.
It was nice of him to do that before he left.
I couldn't believe we’d slept together last night.
What the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking.
Just feeling. Letting myself get caught up in it all.
I really hoped things wouldn’t be awkward the next time we saw each other.
For him at least. Things would be awkward as fuck for me, but it always hurt a little seeing him.
He only came out in town every few weeks, at most, and we didn’t see each other anywhere else unless someone was having a party.
A few weeks apart would give my heart the space it needed to heal, and I could carry on pretending that everything was normal between us.
Stretching out my body, I climbed out of bed, left my bedroom, and headed to the bathroom opposite and then froze.
I wasn’t alone. Mick hadn’t gone home. While there was a happy response to that somewhere in the back of my head, I was mostly concerned by the fact that I was standing in the middle of my hallway, completely naked while Mick leaned against the counter of my kitchen with a cup of tea in his hand and a smirk on his face.
“Morning, sunshine,” he said, still grinning. “Sleep well?”
“Um…?” My brain was malfunctioning. I couldn't think, couldn’t move. I just stood there, staring at him.
“As much as I’m enjoying the view, you probably want to put something on. Bit chilly this morning.” His eyes trailed down my body. “Not that it seems to have affected you at all.” My cock twitched under his gaze, and the embarrassment spurred me into action.
“Bathroom.” I pointed inanely at the door. He laughed into his mug and then nodded. Not knowing what else to do, I hurried in and shut the door behind me.
Hands braced on the sink, I took a deep breath and tried to calm down.
Fuck. This was such a mess. Falling into bed with my very secret unrequited love was very high on the list of The Most Stupid Things I’ve Ever Done, and that included taking the train into London at the delicate age of fourteen and visiting one of the seedier queer bars on my own.
I’d put myself in danger then, and I’d put myself in danger again now.
I just had to hope I was lucky enough to come out of this unscathed, like I had at fourteen.
I doubted it though. The upside was Mick didn’t seem to be bothered at all.
That was good. It meant he hadn’t cottoned on that real feelings were involved for me.
I could play this off as just another shag.
I was good at pretending–I spent most of my life doing it to one degree or another. This was just another level of that.
By the time I’d bathed, shaved, brushed my teeth again, fixed my hair and got dressed, my hangover had softened to a dull ache.
Coming into the living room to find Mick, my heart leapt out of my chest at the sight of him.
Sitting on my couch, with his feet on the coffee table, wearing my pyjama bottoms and an undershirt, he looked so comfortable.
I physically ached with how much I wish every weekend could be like this.
Shaking my head like I dislodge the impossible dream, I put on my mask of sarcasm and bitchiness.
“You’ve made yourself comfy, haven’t you?” I said, raising my eyebrows.
Mick jumped, put his feet flat on the floor and sat up. He looked like he’d been caught smoking behind the bins by the headmaster, which made me chuckle.
“You’re not in trouble, darling. I don’t mind you making yourself at home.” I hoped the term of endearment sounded the same as it did when I’d used it on every Tom, Dick, and Harry.
Relaxing his posture, he smiled at me. “You made me jump. You took so long I was gonna come and see if you’d drowned.”
“Cheeky sod. I needed a long soak to get all the cheap gin out of my system.”
“Did you manage it?”
“I think so. I–what on Earth is Fanny Craddock doing?” I pointed at the small screen where a black and white image of a very prim middle aged lady was doing something unholy with a tube of… something.
“Making sausages.”
I gagged. “No, I cannot handle that.”
“Is it Fanny or the sausage you object to?”
“I am not going to dignify that with an answer.” I walked over to the television set and changed the channel, only to be assaulted by the Salvation Army singing some hymn loud enough to wake the dead.
“Bloody Hell! No, I can’t deal with God botherers either.” I switched the television off, and the silence was sweet relief to my poor throbbing head. “You got any plans today?”
“Nothing until this evening. My mam will make me go to evening Mass to make up for missing it this morning.”
“Oh.” I was surprised; he didn’t strike me as the religious type.
“Yeah. I wouldn’t bother going at all. Got no time for a God who’s gonna send me to Hell just for fancying blokes.” He paused. “Keeps my mam off my back, though. She can forgive most things as long as I go to church.”
“Sounds fun,” I deadpanned.
“It’s not.”
I laughed. “Fair enough.”
We sat on the couch–a much larger distance between us than had been there last night–not saying anything for a minute. I didn’t want him to go, but I couldn’t think of a reason for him to stay.
“Is there anywhere ‘round here to get a decent brekkie?” he asked. Bingo.
“Yeah, there’s a greasy spoon down the road. I’ll join you if you don’t mind?”
“Well, I wasn’t planning on sitting on my tod like a pillock, so yes please.”
“Sarcastic git.” I muttered but smiled at him too.
A quarter of an hour later, we were leaving my flat and making our way to Jackie’s Cafe.
Greasy food was going to kill or cure me, and there was one way to find out which it was going to be.
As I held the door open, the little bell chiming, the smell of bacon hit me.
Mercifully, it made my mouth water with hunger not nausea.
The small shop had half a dozen tables with four chairs each crammed around them. At the back was a counter and an open kitchen beyond. A plump middle-aged lady with blonde hair in a beehive and a ciggy in her mouth waved at us.
“Morning, darling. Who’ve you brought to see us today?”
“Hello, Jackie. This is my nephew Mick, he’s staying at mine for the weekend.” I sent a look to Mick telling him to keep his gob shut. I’d forgotten to mention I’d introduce him like this. His eyes widened as he mouthed “nephew?” at me. I nodded and took a table by the window.
Jackie came over with her notepad, fag still hanging out the corner of her mouth. “What’ll it be, lads?”
“Full English please, love,” I said.
“Same for me, please, Ma’am.”
Jackie giggled. “Ma’am? Very polite.” She turned to me.
“I like him. You can bring him again.” She winked and walked back to the till.
A minute later she brought over two cups of tea the colour of toffee.
I spooned three sugars into mine and then pushed the bowl and spoon across the table. “You’ll want sugar, trust me,” I said.
Mick took my advice and added two sugars. He took a sip of the tea, winced, and added a third spoonful.
“Nephew, eh?” he asked with a smirk.
“Yes, it’s easier that way. Mind you, Jackie’s not thick, and I’m sure she’s worked out that I don’t have an endless supply of young male relatives who don’t bear any resemblance to one another.”
We didn’t have to wait long for breakfast. Ten minutes after we sat down, Jackie brought our food out.
Looking down at the large white plate filled with fried food, I began to regret my choice. My usual choice was a bacon roll, but I’d been starving when I came in and ordered the full breakfast. There was no possible way I could eat all this, and I hated wasting food.
“It smells gorgeous. And the eggs look perfect,” Mick said, and Jackie looked like she’d just won a Michelin star. A few seconds later, she plonked a smaller plate stacked with white toast in the middle of our table.
“Oh I forgot to ask if you wanted sauce.”
“Yes please, not sure if it needs it, though.” Mick was laying it on thick with Jackie and she was eating it up.
“Brown or red, my love?” she asked.
“Brown, please.”
With a nod, she marched past the counter, picked up a bottle of HP Brown Sauce, and handed it to Mick.
“Cheers, love,” he said and poured a thick dollop of sauce onto the side of his plate.
Still not sure I’d finish it, I tucked into the sausages first. Fat and juicy and allowed to burst in the pan–not pricked–the sausages in Jackie’s cafe were always great.
The thick bacon was cooked to perfection as well, done enough that the fat wasn’t soggy, but not burnt or too crispy.
One fried egg, crisp and brown at the very edges, with a sealed but not hard yolk.
I ate around the baked beans, I’d never liked them much, but you’d have to be a braver man than I was to ask Jackie for any alterations.
“Amazing breakfast, mate,” Mick said. It was weird hearing the macho term–I was used to him calling people dear or darling. “I’ve never had bubble and squeak with a full English before,” he continued. “It’s good. I might tell me ma to try it.”
“Glad you liked it,” I said as he dipped a piece of mushroom into his egg yolk. He’d demolished of of the meal, while I was still pushing my food round the plate. Contemplating the tongue-lashing Jackie would give me for wasting her food, I tried to force down some more of the grilled tomato.
“You gonna finish that?” Mick said, eyeing my leftovers like a starving man.
“Um, no, I’m full. Do you want it?”
“Yeah, give it here.” He grabbed my plate in one hand, and his other swapped them in a seamless motion.
“Eyes bigger than your belly,” he said when he tucked into my leftovers.
“What?”
“That’s what my gran says when you think you’re hungrier than you are: eyes bigger than your belly.”
“Just going to the loo,” I said, getting up.
He smiled, thankfully keeping his mouth closed as it was so full he looked like a hamster.
When I came out of the toilet, I stopped by the till to pay for our food, but Jackie wasn’t there.
Craning my neck back into the main caff, I saw her clearing our table.
“Jackie, that was wonderful.” Mick leaned back and stroked his tummy. “Will you marry me?”
“Give over, you daft thing,” she said as she brought the plates back, but I was certain I heard her giggle. When she came back from the kitchen, she pulled down our ticket.
“That’ll be five bob, Michael.”
I handed over the coins.
“I like him,” she said.
“Pardon?”
“Of all the nephews you’ve brought in here, he’s my favourite.”
“Thanks, Jackie.” I smiled at her, and thought to myself, me too.
When I got back to the table, he was smoking a ciggy and watching the people walk by on the street outside.
“You ready to go?” I asked him.
“I haven’t paid yet.” He stubbed his ciggy out in the brown glass ashtray.
“I’ve done it, don’t worry.”
Frowning, he got up and tucked his chair under the table. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.” I smiled at him. Turning around, I waved at Jackie.
“Bye, boys. Have a nice day,” she called as we left. The bell didn’t hurt my head this time thanks to a very good fried breakfast soaking up the remains of my hangover.
We stood outside Jackie’s cafe, shuffling our feet. I was desperate for another excuse to keep him here, but I’d run out of ideas.
“I’d better get back home before my ma sends out a search party,” Mick said, breaking the silence. “Can you point me in the direction of the tube station?”
I showed him the way to Paddington Underground.
“Cheers. Right, well, I’ll be on my way then.
Thanks for breakfast.” He stuck out his hand which I shook gladly.
It was the first time we’d touched since last night, and my body reacted fiercely to it.
I wished I could give him a hug. No, if we were wishing for things, I wished I could hold on to him and never let go.
“My pleasure. Mind how you go.” I said instead.
“See you around.”
I watched him walk away, trying not to feel like he was taking half of my heart with him.