Chapter 22 #3
After a long shower, I listened to the news on the radio, which was full of predictions for tomorrow’s election.
Suzy’s victory was all but a foregone conclusion.
She was believed to be a few points ahead of the replacement Tory candidate, who had made underwhelming impressions in local radio and TV interviews over the past several days.
In my trip to London, I had missed several high-profile cabinet ministers and even the Prime Minister visiting the area to curry up support for a seat that three weeks ago they would never have thought they could lose.
I finished eating, made a fuss of the cats, who hadn’t even noticed I’d been gone, and told Kennedy to stay. I marched down to the village. It was crunch time. And I needed answers.
Simon was already there, like he said he would be.
Guy’s cottage looked even larger in daylight.
It was a beautiful, whitewashed building with a thatched roof and latticed windows.
Ivy, climbing roses, and wisteria grew all over its frontage.
The white gravel outside made the satisfying crunch of money spent on good renovations and upkeep.
The lawn around it was a sumptuous shade of green, with nary a weed, and the large shrubs and trees that separated it from Honningtons’ grounds were all healthy and well maintained.
The great house was visible through a gap in the trees, shimmering in the heat haze.
Simon was nervous. He was sweaty and fidgeting. “He’s home?” I asked, not bothering with pleasantries as I walked up to where he stood.
“I’ve texted him. He’s in.”
I knocked on his door. A few seconds later, Guy answered it. “Arden, Simon, what a … pleasant surprise.”
He was in his riding gear. Clearly, he had been out on one of his horses, as his hair was slicked back by sweat and his shirt clung to his muscular frame.
“Can we come in, Guy?” I asked.
Guy gave Simon a worried glance. “I’ve spoken to Jed,” Simon said. “He said it’s okay. It’s time we told Arden the truth.”
Guy looked at me. “Please don’t hate us,” he said eventually.
He led Simon and me into the house, and this time we went fully through to its heart. A beautiful, informal living room, at the back, which looked like something from a gentleman’s club.
There was a grand fireplace, a liquor cabinet, an antique globe, and even a chessboard set out on a side table.
“Take a seat. Do you want a drink? I know I bloody well do,” he said. “It’s supposed to thunder in a while.” He peered out the window. “Should be soonish.”
“Maybe the heatwave is finally breaking,” Simon said.
“Can you both stop procrastinating and get on with it?”
Guy ignored me and poured himself a drink. Simon took a seat on one of the sofas and looked as if he was trying his hardest not to squirm. “Guy, could you pour me one too?” he asked.
I tried to control my breathing, but it was increasingly difficult with these two acting like they had all the time in the world. I was basically sitting on my hands to stop myself from ripping the drinks out of their hands and yelling for them to get on with it.
Finally, they both had drinks, and Guy took a seat. Somewhere, far away, thunder clapped.
“And it begins,” Guy said.
Simon gulped down half his drink. “I should start.”
“Yes, please, do.”
He took a steadying breath. “I suppose one thing to tell you is that what we said the other night was untrue, but also not completely untrue.” He looked at Guy. “We do have some history.”
I exhaled and stared at the carpet. I was going to hear a lot of this sentiment in the story, whatever it contained.
“I moved to Lilbury about four years ago,” Simon said.
“I took a job, well, I was posted to a research unit nearby in Wiltshire. About forty-five minutes from here. There’s a special operations centre there.
I can’t tell you more about what I do. It’s at RAF Kesset; I’m not RAF, I’m Royal Naval Intelligence.
Well, I was – anyway, it’s a long story.
Arden, I can’t tell you what I do. I can’t. ”
My eyebrows must have gone sky high and betrayed me because Simon stopped talking and nodded solemnly. “I’m not trying to be obtuse. It is illegal for you to know this stuff. We could all go to prison if some aspects of my job become revealed.”
“But Guy knows?” I asked.
“I know what I’m allowed to know,” he said calmly. Guy seemed so much older in these situations. He was looking at me in the most queer manner. He seemed out of sorts, but nowhere as nervous as Simon. Maybe boarding school taught you to hide it better.
“There are people I work with, Arden. Men in grey suits who look like mild-mannered commuters on the train who … I can’t stress to you enough to stay as far from them as you can.
If you ever get approached by someone who acts like they want information from you.
If they mention my name or anything about you, about me, or about any connection we might have.
Please, run in the opposite direction. These men I work with, they aren’t going to be coming to find you because of something good. ”
“Who do you work for?” I asked after a long silence.
“I can’t tell you that,” Simon said. “I’m sorry.” He gave me a look that I think was trying to show me he was being sincere. I know this is hard, and I know I’m asking a lot, it said, but believe me.
“No one knows where I work or what I do, except a handful of people. Not my parents, not my sister, not anyone I’ve ever dated. Guy is one of very few.”
I nodded.
Simon turned to Guy for a second and took a deep breath. “Just after I moved here, there was a lad at the base. Risen through the ranks quickly. Hand-picked. He was drafted on to our team. Very clever, spoke Chinese, an analytical brain. He was perfect for us.”
The hairs on the back of my arms were standing on end. I knew where this was going. Thunder clapped again. The sky outside was black.
“He was also … he was good-looking. He introduced himself to me. Very flirty. Young, confident. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.
I’d just moved here; I didn’t know anyone.
I was single. One day, he sidled over and asked me for a drink.
It’s not technically allowed, but it’s also not expressly forbidden. So, I went for it.”
“This lad already had a reputation. Already on thin ice. He was wild, he drank too much, he stayed out all night, and he took a lot of drugs. Neither of us were looking for much more than casual, so it worked for a while. One night, he came over and, well, it was a freezing winter’s night, we decided to head down to the Fox and Lamprey.
He was charming, kind, lovely. He had everyone eating out of his hand. We ran into Guy.”
“I could tell straight away what he was after,” Guy said.
“I’m embarrassed to admit we both fell into his game.
I’d seen Simon around a bit but hadn’t got to know him very well.
That night, the three of us sat at a table.
He was, as Simon said, good-looking. Very charming.
Flattery, drinks pouring. He had his hand on my leg from the moment we all sat down.
I freely admit that I wanted it to happen.
He rubbed his hand up and down my thigh, making eye contact with Simon, daring him to join in or to rebuff him.
If we didn’t want it, he wanted us to make a scene. ”
“But we didn’t.” Simon gulped the rest of his drink.
“Good-looking men are a curse,” he said with some bitterness.
“They take and take and always expect to get more. He was the same. We came back here. And we … well, we didn’t know what he’d taken until he offered it to us.
I’d never had it before or again. I didn’t enjoy it. ”
“What was it?” I asked.
“G,” Guy said. “GHB, liquid ecstasy. It was his drug of choice. You see it on the chemsex scene.”
I raised my eyebrows again. “Oh, fuck off, Arden. We all have histories,” he snapped.
Tarquin once described Guy as so stuffy that he thanked his lovers after some half-hearted missionary. I held up my hands in apology and then beckoned for them to carry on.
“That night was wild,” Simon said. “There, we admit it. Yes, Guy and I had a threesome with some bloke while all of us were totally off our heads on whatever drugs he had on him. It was stupid, but it was fun. We weren’t ashamed.”
“And then what happened?” I asked, dreading the answer.
Simon shrugged. “He and I fizzled out. We stopped seeing each other. He moved on to the next.”
“That’s it?” I asked.
He shook his head. “His behaviour began to get worse. He was reprimanded. They worried he was a liability. He was too young for the job, maybe. I don’t know. I know they were looking at ways of moving him out again.”
“One night, a few days before Christmas, he turned up here again,” Guy said. “He was off his head. I’d say I was surprised he knew how to find me again, but obviously, in that job, they have their ways.”
“I was here with Jed,” he said. “The pair of us were drunk. Well, I was drunk. Jed was shitfaced. He was passed out in front of the fire. Then in this guy comes, all gorgeous and young. He wants a repeat performance.”
“And you said?”
“Yes, obviously,” Guy said as if any other answer would have been lunacy.
I was in a parallel universe. “I invited Simon over. He was less than convinced but came anyway. Jed barely knew what was happening. He was so drunk. I think he was dimly aware Simon was here. It wasn’t until much later that he realised.
Anyway, the three of us went upstairs. Did the deed.
Simon and I came back downstairs for a drink and left him up there.
He was a bit out of it, so I told him to have a lie-down, and that he could stay the night if he needed to.
But he was determined to leave later, said there was a party back on base he wanted to go to. ”