10. Chapter 10
Ilooked ridiculous behind the wheel of Mrs Tyler’s massive Land Rover. I wondered how she ever controlled the thing. So when I pulled up into the car park the sat nav directed me to, I was relieved. And Bradley’s sigh from the seat next to me told me he was too.
“How the hell did you ever pass your test?” he asked.
“Hard work and perseverance?” I tried, but the sidelong look he gave me told me he didn’t believe a word. We got out of the car, but he wasn’t done with the questions, it seemed.
“How many attempts did it take you?” he asked.
“One.”
“One try? To pass your driving test? Like that?” Bradley shook his head.
“The examiner may have called me the worst pass he had ever given,” I admitted. “He said he was itching to fail me, but I didn’t make quite enough mistakes in the right areas to justify it.”
“You shouldn’t sound proud of that.”
“So call the chauffeur,” I waved my hand. “Driving isn’t my job.” My job was to assist, and I assisted very well.
“Where are we, anyway?” Bradley asked, looking around. The car park was a small one, with an information sign at the other end. It was in the middle of a little village—well, hamlet really—that looked like it hadn’t moved forward since the 1700s.
“Ah, so you haven’t been. We’re near to two landmarks: Offa’s Dyke and the Wales-England border.”
“So that’s why you made me wear these,” said Bradley, pointing to his welly boots.
I nodded, giving him a quick once-over. It was weird seeing him dressed and outside of work, not in his customary tracksuit bottoms and tank but in wellies, cargo trousers and a gilet. All he needed was a farmer’s cap and he would fit right in with the Peaky Blinders, and I was digging the look. I was wearing wellies but had otherwise kept to my usual style. I didn’t have many outdoor clothes, but I’d always wanted to do this walk.
I checked my phone to orient myself in the right direction, then began to walk. I could hear Bradley’s wellies crunching on the gravel behind me, and then we were out onto the quiet, sleepy road with twists and turns that had tested my patience and ability to manoeuvre the Rover.
I walked through the little village with Bradley at my back, and the pavements were so narrow that he couldn’t move to my side until we reached the small river.
“The Avon Mynwyg,” I explained, as we sat down on one pebbly bank.
“I used to come and swim in the river all the time as a kid. Dunno if it was this one, though,” said Bradley.
“How can you not know if you swam in this river?”
“Dunno. Mud, water, some pebbles—all looks the same to me.” Bradley grabbed one of the aforementioned pebbles and skipped it expertly over the water. “Stones skip the same wherever you go.”
I grabbed a pebble and threw it, cringing at the thunk when it sank to the bottom. “I think I just killed a couple of cod.”
“Cod are sea fish,” muttered Bradley as if it were obvious.
”So you don’t know the name of the river that runs a few miles from your childhood home, but you know where cod live? Make it make sense.”
Bradley shrugged. “My brain isn’t academic, as every teacher I’ve ever had will tell you. I’m more…I dunno. Visual? No, that’s not it. Physical, maybe. I used to swim in the river or go fishing with my granddad. So I learned those things. They were important. Maths is important when it comes to my boxing weight. I read boxing magazines as a kid. I could tell you the name of every championship boxer for the last thirty years, and a good few before that. But I just never bothered to learn stuff if it didn’t matter to me.”
“I only did academia,” I confessed. “Everything at home felt like stuff I was forced to learn—like cooking. It wasn’t until after my uni intervention that I started taking up hobbies again. I loved drawing in my after-school clubs, so I started to do that.”
I felt like I’d revealed too much of myself to Bradley in the last few hours, but once I started it had become hard to stop. I liked him knowing more about me. I liked that in helping him, I’d ripped open the sheer cover of professionalism that had remained. And I liked that me opening up had led to him doing the same. I thought I knew everything about him. I’d been present at every interview, researched every aspect of his life I could get my hands on and watched from the sidelines as he went about being him. But to get such an intimate look inside his mind? The thought made me shiver.
“Are you cold?” Bradley asked. “It is a bit cool for April…”
“No, I’m fine. I swear,” I said. I picked up another rock and tried to skim it again, but it joined the other at the bottom of the river.
Bradley jumped to his feet, laughing. “Are you even trying?” he asked.
“I am, prick.” I tried again, but failed completely. “Fuck’s sake.”
Bradley hooked his hands under my armpits and pulled me to a standing position like I was nothing, pulling an undignified shriek from me while I found purchase on the ground.
“Watch,” he said. Hr skipped the stone across the surface of the water effortlessly.
I tried again. And again. And again. But no matter how much I watched him or how many times he said it’s all in the wrist, I couldn’t do it.
“This is bullshit,” I muttered. “I’m running out of stones.”
Bradley moved behind me and bent to pick up a small, flat stone by my foot. He pressed it into my palm, but then surprised me by moving in close to my back, pressing into every curve of my body. I could feel his warm breath against my cold cheek as he pulled my arm back, and slowly pushed it forward. “This angle, see? And just a quick flick. That’s all you need to do.”
He demonstrated again, but I was hardly thinking about the pebble. My mind was overwhelmed by the feeling of his body, the few thin layers that separated our skin, and the trail of goosebumps that his breath left in its wake.
Bradley stepped away suddenly, and I dropped the rock.
“Good start,” he chuckled.
“Shut up.” I picked up the rock again, and with his whispered instructions in mind, managed to throw it. It skipped once, twice, and then dropped below the surface. “I did it!”
“The apprentice becomes the master,” Bradley said with a smile.
“What do you want to do now?” I asked. “We could keep walking.”
Bradley looked along the river trail, and for a second he seemed torn.
“What is it?”
“We passed a lovely little pub on the way…it’s been ages since I treated myself to a drink and some greasy food,” he admitted. “I know you planned a walk but…I’ve had enough exercise for a lifetime.”
I grinned. “Pub it is. But you’re paying.”
“I left my wallet at home.”
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t think I had the foresight to grab it? You wanted to take me to the Maldives and now I’m not even worth a pint.”
“You’re worth the world,” Bradley said. I laughed until I realized he wasn’t. “You really are though.”
It was my turn to be serious, and I struggled to crack so much as a grin the whole way to the pub. Did he really think I was worth the world? And was that just as his assistant? Or was it more, somehow?
I stayed deep in thought all the way to the little thatched pub that Bradley had suggested. “I bet they don’t even serve food,” he groaned.
“I brought you a whole feast of stuff earlier, was it not beautiful?” I asked, feigning offense.
“It was. But I need, like, five thousand calories a day when I’m amping up for a big fight, and you know it.” The smile slipped off Bradley’s face just as I bit my tongue to hold back my next retort. Because he and I had realised at the same time that there would be no next fight.
We walked into the pub, which was the size of a living room, if that. A mahogany bar was inset into one wall with an old barman behind who looked like he’d been there as long as the wattle-and-daub walls.
“Can I help you gentlemen?” he asked. It was only upon looking around that I realised we were the only people in the place. We both made our way to the bar, but I kept my eyes peeled. I’d seen this horror film before, I was sure.
“A pint of…whatever lager you have, please.” Bradley looked at me. “For both of us.”
The barman smiled a near-toothless smile and pulled us each a pint into scratched-up glasses. I made another sweep of the building and noticed that while it was showing signs of age, everything was immaculate. I could have swabbed the dark wooden floor and not found a speck of dust.
“What brings you to these parts?” asked the barman. I don’t think I’ve seen either of your faces before.”
“Just…passing by,” I said. “Came to see the border.”
“Is that a Cardiff accent I detect? My Marjorie was from Cardiff, bless her soul.” The barman smiled.
“You’re right,” I confirmed. “I thought I hid it better than that.”
“I’ll know that accent anywhere, no matter how many layers you hide it behind.” The old barman passed us each a pint. “On the house.”
“No, no, I have to pay…” Bradley took out his wallet.
“I’ll be offended if you do. Just come back for another and I’ll charge you double.” The barman laughed, but it was more of a wheeze. However, it brought a smile to Bradley’s face and for that I was grateful. We made our way over to a table next to a tiny window and sat in silence for a while.
“Is it bad,” asked Bradley after a minute, “that I couldn’t remember what you have to drink?”
“Not your job,” I said simply.
“I know. It’s your job to know everything about me. But I wish I did know more about you. It feels wrong to know so little about someone I spend all my time with.”
“Never know, now you’re done with boxing, you might not spend so much time with me,” I said. It was meant as a joke, but neither of us laughed.
“Arthur, you matter to me,” said Bradley. “As…so much more than an assistant.”
“I do believe my job title is executive assistant,” I teased.
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” Bradley reached over and grabbed my hand before I could reach for my pint. “I mean…”
I froze with his hand covering my mind before I could think of how to respond. I wanted to know what he meant, but I was afraid. I wanted Bradley, and as far as I could tell, there was no reason in life for him to want anything more with me.
It seemed that Bradley finally found his words and he opened his mouth to speak—only to be interrupted by my phone. Bradley closed his mouth and I cursed whoever-it-was’s poor timing. I pulled my phone from my pocket and scowled.
“Everything okay?” Bradley asked.
“It’s my Dad,” I said, a solemn tone to my voice. “Be right back.”
I waited until I was outside before I answered. “Can I help you?”
“Artie, it’s your father. I was just after a little favour, after how you let them treat me the other day. See, your mum needs some money for a taxi later and—”
I jabbed the red button and switched my phone to silent. When I stepped back into the pub, there were two full pints on my side, and Bradley had almost finished his first.
“All okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” I muttered, a little more harshly than I’d intended. “Dad stuff.”
“Is he alright? You look upset.”
“He is fine,” I said. “You got another pint?”
“Jeremiah insisted we needed another, despite you not having a sip of yours.”
“I’m driving, Bradley. And I don’t even like lager.” I took a sip of my pint as if to prove a point, or as if to try and make myself like it. But I couldn’t help the expression that crossed my face. I pushed one of the pints over to him. “I’ll have one. To be polite.”
I grabbed my phone again when it buzzed in my pocket. My father had sent the longest text of his life. I scanned through it. Mother…needs taxi…doctor’s appointment…not doing well.
I sighed, logged into my online banking quickly and sent over the smallest amount I could to get them through. Mum wasn’t ill—she never was. But I didn’t want to be the son who one day didn’t send anything through to his parents when they needed it.
“Sorry. I’m back. Family stuff.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Bradley asked, voice laced with concern.
I tried to get the words out, but couldn’t. I steeled myself and took a sip of the horrible pint. “Peachy.”
Bradley looked concerned, but didn’t push it. “So, Mr. Assistant, what have you got planned for me this week?”
I smiled. This I could do. This I was happy with. Guiding Bradley meant I didn’t have to focus on me so much.