Chapter 3 #3
Newt pulled off his jacket and dropped it on top of his holdall on the hall floor, then took off his shoes. The house was warm and smelt really good.
“I’ll see to lunch,” Linda said. “Try to persuade him to join us.” She and her husband walked away.
“I’ll go and have a word with him first before I introduce you,” Max said. “Mum can fill you in on what you need to know.”
Newt followed Max’s parents. The house was amazing, big and airy, filled with natural light. The pale grey walls were dotted with striking pieces of artwork. The floor was pale grey wood and continued into rooms he could just see through part-open doors.
The kitchen was huge. Not just a kitchen but with areas for dining and lounging as well.
A sectional couch and matching circular chair faced the biggest TV Newt had ever seen.
A bank of floor-to-ceiling windows looked out onto a patio, and beyond that was a lawn edged by trees, with rolling fields at the bottom of the garden.
On the right, probably backing onto the garage, was a long building that seemed to be all windows.
There were solar panels on the roof and he guessed it housed the pool.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” said Linda.
“Yes. He’s…” Newt had been going to say lucky but River wasn’t lucky. He’d probably give all this up to be back to the way he was before the accident. And although he was rich enough to afford a place like this, he’d had to work for it. “Fortunate,” Newt said.
“And difficult,” added Daniel. “You need to be patient but don’t put up with bad behaviour. Stand your ground.”
“He’s better with me because he doesn’t want to upset Max, but he sometimes behaved appallingly with people who’d come to help him.”
“What sort of appalling?”
“I don’t know if I should tell you. But then, you probably need to know.
He’s barely cooperated with any of the specialists hired to help him.
He walks off, ignores them, sticks his finger up at them.
He’s untidy and careless with his clothes.
He’s quite capable of putting his cups and glasses in the dishwasher, but he never does.
He plays his music too loudly. Telling someone to f…
off eventually has the desired effect. I just don’t know what’s going through his head. ”
“He wants to get better but seems unprepared to make any effort to help himself,” said Daniel. “He’s broken many glasses and a few ornaments. Dented a few walls, which I’ve repaired. A vase of flowers went flying. He’s lucky it didn’t hit anyone.”
“He’s frustrated. He needs a friend.” Linda glanced at Newt. “But whether he’ll be prepared to let you be his friend, I’m not sure.”
“Right.”
“But at least you’re around his age. That might help.
I’d like him to have some fun but pleasure is a hard thing to find when you’re in the state he’s in.
Anyway, I’ve made a list of the foods he likes, left recipes, and listed what he really won’t eat.
He’s not supposed to drink alcohol, though that’s one thing I haven’t seen him do.
I try to encourage him to get up at nine and be in bed by nine. Failed at that.”
“He takes naps during the day,” said Daniel. “He can fall asleep at the drop of a hat.”
“What does he spend his time doing?”
“He listens to loud music.” She shuddered.
“Nothing we like but he usually stays in the media room. He has a TV in his bedroom, but it’s hard for him to find what he wants to watch.
He flips through the channels until he finds something.
That’s acceptable in his room but, down here, it gives us whiplash. ”
Max came into the kitchen. “Come up and meet him now. You can pick out a room later. There are four. Choose which you like.” He tapped on his phone.
“While I remember, I’ll send you River’s number.
We have a code if there’s an emergency and he needs me or immediate help.
I’ve put your number into his phone above mine.
It’s a new phone with only two contacts.
I’ve taken my parents’ numbers off. If he sends you the message 11111 over and over, that means he needs help but it’s not an emergency.
99999 repeated means it is an emergency. 191919 means he wants you in his room.”
“2222 means he wants a cup of tea,” said Linda. “3333 means he wants a biscuit. I suspect he’d use more but he has trouble with numbers.”
“He just doesn’t want to try speaking,” said Daniel. “I don’t know why. It isn’t as if we’d laugh at him.”
Newt followed Max, trying not to gawp at everything they passed.
The staircase had a quirky light fixture hanging over the hall that looked like some complex multi-coloured wind chime.
As light hit the dangling rectangles, ribbons of colour shifted on the walls.
Wow! That’s pretty. Newt hurried up the stairs and followed Max down a carpeted corridor and through a door at the end. Newt went in after him.
River Lawson lay on his back on a long, double-ended, low-slung pale blue couch, his head on a cushion, his eyes closed, headphones on, his hand moving inside his open jeans.
Oh fuck. Had he not heard the knock? He was long and lean with floppy, dirty-blond hair and thick dark eyelashes.
Even more attractive in the flesh. Newt’s cock reacted at the same time as his brain.
Oh shit. It wasn’t going to be easy to be around this guy and not drool.
Max rolled his eyes at Newt, then turned back to River. “This is Newt Jones.”
River took no notice. Newt suspected he could hear just fine. He was making a point.
“River, open your bloody eyes,” Max snapped.
Still no response.
“Is this performance art or do you need a hand?” Newt asked. “Looking for a volunteer?”
River’s eyes flew open, the glare on his face directed at Newt. He took his hand out of his jeans, pulled off his headphones and awkwardly pushed himself to a sitting position. He’s struggling. The soft skin under his eyes looked bruised. Exhaustion? Worry? Probably both.
“Fuck…off.”
“Can you swear in any other languages?” Newt asked. “If you’d like some variety…Bidanyi is fuck off in Ethiopian. Siktir git is Turkish. La naiba is Romanian.” He’d learnt those in prison.
Max snorted. River glared at him, then pushed his hand back in his jeans and slid down again.
“Lunch will be ready shortly,” Max said. “My parents and I are leaving afterwards. Spend a few minutes getting to know Newt. And be nice.” Then he walked away.
Newt was torn between offering to help River sit up or just following Max. He could already guess the response to an offer to help. Even so… This was now his job. Help, care for, feed, teach… Not drool over, but…
“Do you need a hand?”
“Fuck…off.”
“No.” Newt dropped down at the other end of the couch.
River looked shocked for a moment, then began to move his hand up and down more vigorously inside his jeans, while staring straight at Newt.
“Can’t you make it a bit more exciting?” Newt met his gaze. “You’re an actor. If you can’t speak, then…grunt or something. Or breathe heavily. Convince me you’re actually enjoying yourself. Wanking is supposed to be fun.”
River moved his hand faster.
Newt guessed River was wondering how far to push this, so gave him an out and stood up. “Looks like I did put you off.” Maybe a partial out. “You’re not even hard.”
The glare intensified.
“I’d do a striptease, but I’m not your type, am I? Come downstairs. Well, no. That wouldn’t go down well.” He chuckled. “Come up here and then join us downstairs. Wash your hands first, okay?” Then he walked out, flinching as a cushion hit the door by his head.
This was going to be difficult, but not because the guy was a shit.
River Lawson made the breath catch in Newt’s throat, made his cock twitch, made his pulse race.
He was stunning. While Newt had been locked up, his occasional crushes on other inmates and officers had remained private.
It didn’t matter whether the guy was gay or not because Newt would never have said or done anything to imply any interest. But thinking about someone he fancied did pass the time and fuel his imagination.
Looked like he was going to have to do the same with River.
Newt made his way back downstairs and paused at the kitchen door when he heard his name mentioned.
“Are you sure about this…young man?” asked Linda. “Didn’t you ought to stay for a few days? It seems irresponsible to leave a stranger with him. He’s not very well dressed.”
Newt swallowed hard.
“I’m a good judge of character and I trust Newt.
You can’t do this anymore. It’s not fair to ask it of you and I’m relieved I can get back to the office to deal with yet another fire.
Bloody idiots taking pictures of bits of themselves that they shouldn’t.
Anyway, if there are any problems, River will find a way to get rid of him. ” He laughed.
“Even so,” Daniel said. “Make sure River is good with this.”
“He is. I’ll keep checking up on them.”
Newt pushed open the kitchen door.
“Is he coming?” Max asked.
Newt almost laughed. He doubted it whichever way Max meant it. “I asked him to. Reminded him to wash his hands.”
Max pressed his lips together as he smirked.
“This is a lovely house,” Newt said brightly. “Is it new?”
“Four years old,” Max said. “River hadn’t spent much time here before the accident.”
“I’ve given everywhere a good clean, including the room we’ve been using, so you should manage for a while,” Linda said.
“Mum!” Max sighed. “You shouldn’t be doing the cleaning.”
“I’m not too old to clean. Who else was going to do it? You wouldn’t have and I didn’t want it to be a big job for the next person who came. If you keep rooms tidy, it’s an incentive to go on keeping them tidy.”
“And did that work with River?” Max asked.
“No, but…”
“Give me strength.” Max groaned. “Come and sit down, Newt, and have something to eat. I’ll talk you through the monster’s routine.”
The soup and sandwich were both delicious.
The best things Newt had eaten in a long while.
He’d almost forgotten how good proper soup and sandwiches could taste.
Nothing like prison fare of slightly stale sliced white bread and gloopy soup.
The sandwich was made from slices cut from a wholemeal loaf and filled with cheese, ham and pickle.
Newt didn’t usually like ham but this was lean and tasty.
He listened carefully while Max’s parents, and occasionally Max, ran through River’s routine.
It was a lot like prison, Newt thought. Waking up and going to bed at set times.
Same with meals. And what River ate was regulated as well.
His physiotherapist came three times a week.
Newt was given his number and shown a photo.
The guy’s too-white smile, rectangular head and buzz cut, along with a lot of muscles were intimidating.
“The latest speech therapist isn’t coming again,” she said. “I don’t blame her. He just kept telling her to f…off. But I’ve heard him trying to speak when he’s been alone in his room. Not successfully.”
“Newt has experience with language development,” Max said. “He’s going to work with him 24/7.”
“Oh good.” She smiled at Newt.
Newt gulped. Not quite 24/7.
By the time they’d been through everything they thought he needed to know, his head was throbbing. He’d made a lot of notes on his phone.
“Don’t forget,” Max said, “if any letters come for him, addressed to either Leo Miller or River Lawson, forward them to me.”
“I will.”
Daniel started to tell him about the days the bins were emptied, what to put in them and where to put them, and that there was a key for the box where parcels were left, when he went quiet.
Newt turned to see River slowly limping towards them, a scowl on his face, his right arm hanging limp at his side.
“River!” Linda sprang to her feet and went over to the hob. “Minestrone soup. Your favourite.”
River slumped onto a chair next to Max, glared at him, then glared at Newt.
Even with that belligerent look on his face, he was gorgeous, but very pale and thin.
Though when River managed a half-smile for Linda as she put the soup in front of him, Newt suspected he wasn’t as bad as he wanted everyone to think.
“Did Newt tell you he’s a language specialist?” Max asked River.
Er… No and not really. But Newt didn’t contradict him. And it made him wonder what Max had said when he went up to River on his own. Wouldn’t he have told him that then?
River didn’t react.
“He’s going to live in the house and help with everything,” Max continued. “Cooking, cleaning, laundry… But especially your speech.”
River scowled.
“You need a greater vocabulary than the two words you seem fond of repeating ad nauseum. You’re not going to push Newt away. I’m paying him, not you and if you want to retain me as your agent, you’ll treat him better than you have everyone else who’s tried to help you.”
River didn’t speak. He kept eating the soup a little at a time with the spoon in his left hand.
Newt could see even doing that was an effort.
He was probably right-handed. Newt felt sorry for him and he knew that if River guessed that, he’d be even more difficult to handle.
Newt had to tread a careful path. But he did feel sorry for him.
The world had been at River’s feet and he’d lost almost everything.
Hopefully only temporarily. Newt understood what that felt like.
His experience was different but even so… They had losing dreams in common.