Chapter 3 #2
From the top, Nikolas could make out the coastline with the Breakwater and Plymouth Sound hazy in the distance.
The other way, he stared out right over their valley, and all he could see was the tops of trees.
There was no indication of the house or the rest of the estate.
He smiled. It was just how he liked it. He sat on the rocks and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
Old habits died very hard for Nikolas. He made elaborate plans and decisions to give up, but he enjoyed smoking.
He’d enjoyed it since he was ten and didn’t see why all the good things he had in his life now should be held in some kind of bargain with God against the bad.
He’d used the same rationale with the red wine and that was working out pretty well too.
He limited himself to one or two cigarettes a day, always at moments like these when he was completely alone. They helped him think.
Introspection. Ben had accused him of it the night before. And he’d been right—it wasn’t something Nikolas usually indulged in. The visit to the superbly named Doctor Wood had disturbed him.
He preferred his relationship with Ben to be like the house: invisible unless you knew where to look.
When they’d first met, it had been completely secret from everyone.
He’d booked hotel rooms for them to meet in.
They’d had sex, and then they’d gone their separate ways, not even using the rooms to sleep in afterward.
Gradually, he’d started inviting Ben down on weekends, but then the sex had mostly been out of the house—on the beach, in the grounds—except for the billiard room, which was understood to be his domain and had a good lock on the door.
Then Ben had moved in with him. From that point on, Ben had been removing the metaphorical trees that hid the truth of their relationship.
Soon, Nikolas knew, there wouldn’t be much left standing between him and a realisation of what they were—what he was. And he didn’t appreciate it.
Take yesterday for example. Tim answering him back…
Ben kissing him in front of Tim and treating him as an…
of course, Ben was his equal…Nikolas wasn’t implying he wasn’t.
Or at least, not when Ben was actually present.
But still…Nikolas scrunched his face and considered this concept of their equality for a while.
Then he lit another cigarette. One wasn’t enough for such a deep level of contemplation.
Even pretending, he hadn’t enjoyed speaking about his relationship at the doctor’s office. What did that say about him? Why was he like this?
Sooner or later, Nikolas knew he was going to have to address the issue of whether he was…
He’d been going on the later option—maybe when he was sixty—but events were spiralling out of his control somehow.
Ben had kissed him! Mocked him! In front of Tim and that other idiot!
Ack, but he was refusing to address the main issue.
He’d teased Ben back. For one moment, he’d forgotten how things were supposed to work, and, entirely unselfconsciously, he’d made fun of Ben back as if they were…
Nikolas took a deep drag of smoke and filled his lungs, relishing the pleasure.
Smoking had been so difficult in prison.
He’d had a nice seven-year habit going by the time he’d been committed—in young lungs, too.
He’d had no intention of giving up, so, along with food, that had been another thing he’d had to work hard to be allowed to enjoy.
If the prison had been filled with women, he’d have fucked them for a cigarette or a hunk of bread.
It was no different. It didn’t make him…
But it hadn’t been full of women. It had been packed with men, and the next prison, and the one after that…
A vast succession of men, which in its own way had formed another habit hard to break…
It wasn’t all bad, however. He’d learnt early to use his power, to flex what psychological muscle he had, and he was not blind or stupid.
He knew people desired him, feared him—gravitated to him.
They would desire him, fear him and gravitate to him a great deal more if he’d let them.
He’d never needed any of it, so held the world at arm’s length.
But habits formed in prison had continued into his life in Special Forces.
He fucked women when it suited him, but, like prison, Special Forces tended to be a world of men, most more than willing to explore games of dominance and obedience, reward and punishment.
So how did any of this make him…? He lit another cigarette.
He had to conclude, therefore, having looked at it from all angles, he was definitely not gay.
Ack, who needed fucking therapists? Pussies.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, checking the caller ID.
He smirked. A text from his second favourite person.
:Have u learned 2 text yet?
He snorted and replied
: what do u think?
:Ok. Boring and slow. I have 2 do essay. Title: Can 9/11 b directly linked back 2 Soviet actions in Afghanistan? Help. Any suggestions—as actual Soviet person in Afghanistan…xxxxx
He stuck his cigarette in the side of his mouth and texted
: I have perfect answer for u: No.
He waited, smoking happily, and got back.
:More words maybe?
:Yes and no?
:Thank u. How r u? school is brill
He squinted at this, shaking his head in despair.
No one was supposed to enjoy school. But it had been one of his better moves, he thought, bringing Emilia from Russia to school in England—well, Scotland.
A school recommended by Philipa, favoured of her favourite royal and perfect for a girl like Emilia who didn’t see the world in a conventional way.
They had an unconventional relationship, Nikolas and Emilia.
Neither understood it, so both left its possibilities hanging there to be examined at some later date.
They were having too much fun to tie down what they were to each other in customary terms, and Nikolas, like Emilia, could never be bothered to conform to other people’s expectations.
That he was a forty-five-year-old man and she was a thirteen-year-old girl with no relation to him didn’t bother them at all.
On a whim, Nikolas whistled for Radulf, and just as the dog turned, he snapped him with his phone camera.
It was the dopey, ears askew and looking appealing expression that the dog specialized in.
Nikolas shook his head despairingly again but sent it anyway.
A few moments later she replied with a selfie.
She appeared to be happy, coppery snakes of hair wild around her face and not stuffed into a hat now.
He made a dumb face, took one of himself and winged it to her.
She immediately texted
:U R smoking!
He winced.
:I’m telling Ben.
This was bad.
:What do u want not to?
There was a long pause.
:Bribery? U cant bribe kids! It’s illegal!
:Since when? So?
:2 come for xmas
:What about Babushka?
:She not seen Devon either
He thought about this. It was the only downside to bringing Emilia to school here—her grandmother had been left on her own once more. But she’d desperately wanted this chance for her granddaughter, so she had agreed. Emilia and Ulyana Ivanovna for Christmas. Why not?
:OK but I want very good present
:I will make u something in manual
:Deep joy
:Love you bye xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
He smiled—Emilia had learnt early on that kisses, hugs, karma and any form of emoticon annoyed him excessively and never stinted, therefore, in their use.
:I never think about u- goodbye
He snapped his phone shut, chuckling at the thought of Ulyana Ivanovna seeing the house. He could teach Emilia to ride—and play tennis. It was getting boring beating Ben all the time. Now he could defeat Emilia, too.
* * *
Ben was still on the phone when Nikolas arrived back. He had his feet up on the table, and a succession of mugs around him with used teabags on spoons. Nikolas shivered with disgust and thought about calling for a servant before he remembered he didn’t have any now.
Ben hung up and took his feet down. “Jono’d been seeing the doc once a week for about six months. A couple of months ago the doc mentioned the possibility of him attending a residential course for a week.”
Nikolas sat down. “And?”
“He agreed to go. But I’ve just called Squeezy and asked him about it, and he claimed Jono’d been in Kenya, helping build a school.”
“Interesting. He wasn’t in Kenya.”
“Nope. Poor kid. He was on a residential, gay therapy course. But the really weird thing is, he was actually away from home for four weeks, not one.”
“So…where was he the other three weeks?”
“Exactly.”