Josh #2
“I really wasn’t expecting to be fed,” I say, after raising a hand in greeting to Nishan and, at Josh’s direction, taking a seat at their small dining table. Josh goes over, puts his arms around Nishan’s waist, pulls their bodies together and pecks a kiss on his cheek.
“Shan likes to show off his culinary skills,” he says, turning to me.
“Come on, mate. We all have to eat, don’t we?
Might as well be something decent.” I have no idea why, but Nishan’s soft Brummie accent always surprises me.
According to Josh, he lived in Solihull before moving to London at nineteen to study computer science.
When Josh pokes a finger into the pan and takes a taste, producing an obscene moan, Nishan bumps his backside into Josh’s groin to push him away.
“Don’t just stand there, you pervert. We have a guest. Offer him a drink. ”
We all settle for bottled beers while Josh and I perch at the table, catching up on old times.
Josh has always been far more sociable than me and has kept in touch with a few of our old mates.
After Josh sets the table, we tuck into Nishan’s excellent food, served in small stainless-steel pots.
He produces an assortment of curried fish, plain rice, something he announces as shukto, which contains vegetables in delicious milky gravy, spicy potatoes and cauliflower and a mutton curry called kosha mangsho.
A few more beers and second helpings later and we all sit back, sated.
“You see? This is why I keep him,” says Josh at the end of the meal, getting up and taking away the empty dishes.
Nishan sits and watches. They seem to have agreed on an unspoken routine, one cooking, the other cleaning up afterwards.
When I rise to volunteer my help, Nishan stops me with a hand on my forearm and a single shake of his head.
I sense he enjoys watching his carefree partner dance around the kitchen.
Eventually, Nishan suggests we move to the comfortable seated area with our beers. Josh puts on a pot of coffee and allows the beautiful aroma to blend with the lingering Indian spices. Leaving the settee for the two of them, I sink into the beanbag.
“You’re sleeping on this, by the way,” says Nishan, patting the cushion of the sofa. “Perfectly comfortable. My brother raves about it whenever he comes to stay.”
Josh comes over and joins us. He’s holding a small tray with the coffee pot and cups, a crystal ashtray with matches, and a small silver box. A neat row of roll-up cigarettes is displayed when he flips open the lid.
“That’s because his brother’s usually off his face by the time he hits the sack.”
“Not for me—” I begin, causing Josh to pull a face.
“Bullshit. I know you used to. If we are going to hear this intriguing tale of mystery, I want us all at least partially stoned. And this is good stuff, isn’t it, Shan?”
“Tufnell Park’s finest.”
“Nish met this little man—” says Josh, as he is lighting up.
“Hush,” says Nishan. “You know that information is classified.”
Josh has just taken a drag on the joint and chokes with laughter.
“Honestly, Gabriel,” says Nishan, chuckling along. “Was he always this indiscreet?”
“Always.”
As they pass around the joint, I share stories about living under the Callico House roof, their basement pool, Albert’s snobbish siblings and the uncomfortable family dinners.
When I talk fondly about Albert, about how he took me in—we hadn’t really broached that subject the one time Josh met him—the questions begin.
‘Was he good to you?’ ‘Yes, very good, helped me on my feet and was the one who secured the job for me.’ ‘Did he defend you in front of his family?’ ‘Always.’ Even when I wasn’t there, according to Alice.
Sometimes I felt he could be overprotective, which was frankly ludicrous, bearing in mind my past, and when he appeared to be the one needing protection from that horrendous household.
And he’d liked that I could talk about real issues, what was happening in the world, outside his family and work.
Inevitably, with Josh anyway, the subject turns to sex.
“Albert would have fallen under the A category in LGBTQIA,” I tell them.
“Wait, stop. You lived for three years with that hot daddy and never once had sex?” says Josh, eventually. “What profession did he push you into again? Priesthood?”
“I see your boyfriend’s still a dick,” I say to Nishan and get a nod and a shrug in response. “Still making elephants out of flies.”
“Making what out of what?” asks Nishan, an eyebrow rising.
“Don’t worry, Shan,” says Josh, waving smoke from his face. “He often comes out with shit like that. No, seriously though, Gabe. How did you cope?”
“You have a short memory if you’ve forgotten the things we had to do to survive on the streets.
I found someone who wanted to take care of me, wanted to help ground me, without demanding anything in return except company.
If he had wanted sex, I would have been more than happy to oblige.
He didn’t, and he also trusted me. We were partners who were good for each other, and I’m going to really miss that selflessness, really miss him. ”
“Of course you are,” says Nishan, plucking the joint from Josh’s hand and giving him an admonishing glare before taking a deep draw. “The way Josh talked about him, I thought he might be an uncle or something.”
Something in Nishan’s words carries a sinister undertone that gives me a cold, unsettling feeling. Perhaps it’s the insinuation that people believed I was a kept boy, which is far from the truth.
“The day he died, I was supposed to be in the minibus with him.”
That statement stills them both. I tell them about the last-minute change of plans, the argument between us and finally, about getting news of the accident.
While I have their attention, I tell them about my visit to the solicitor and the derelict property in Italy, then explain the cypher and the secret message Albert left me, word for word.
When Nishan offers me the joint, I take a hit and notice Josh waiting to speak.
I am sure he is going to berate me for turning down the money Albert left me, but instead, he says something I am not expecting.
“He saved your life.”
I puff out a cloud of smoke. Josh and I have always been on the same wavelength.
“Maybe.”
“Could he have been involved in anything dodgy?” asks Nishan.
“Albert? Never. Josh met him. Straight as a Roman road. Professionally, he was a well-respected infectious diseases specialist working with a team of biochemists, immunologists and virologists to find a cure for AIDS.”
“The same team of people on the bus with him?”
“I know what you’re thinking, but no. The others were colleagues who studied different areas of medicine. More like friends. They just happened to be attending the same conference.”
“Well, he obviously found something out,” says Nishan.
“And, from what you tell us, he doesn’t sound like the sort of person who would go to the trouble of formulating a warning message like that for no reason.
Telling you to get out and stay offline is pretty hardcore.
Did he seem strange—scared or distant—the last time you saw him? ”
I like Nishan. He asks insightful questions. I try to think back to that last night and remember Albert had been weird in a distracted way. At the time, I’d assumed he was upset because I was being a bastard to him.
“Not scared, no. But something was troubling him. The thing is, I’d seen him like that before. Like when he was working through a problem in his research or considering something his brother had said to irritate him. He didn’t seem so much scared as preoccupied, trying to figure something out.”
They are quiet for a time and quickly glance at each other. Although no words are spoken between them, I can see they are coming to the same conclusion.
“Okay, guys,” I ask, folding my arms. “What are you thinking?”
“Look,” begins Josh. “I don’t want to get all conspiracy theory on your arse, but I’m sure Shan agrees with me that there’s something fucked-up going on. Your lover—”
“Partner.”
“Your partner, who clearly cared about you, sends you a warning message in code just before he dies in what the world assumes to be a tragic accident. Your message now throws that into doubt. You say you always took his advice seriously in the past, so I suggest you do the same thing now.”
“Josh is right,” says Nishan.
“I’m not going to the fuzz with this, if that’s what you’re about to suggest.”
“Fuck, no. Neither would I,” said Josh. “Not until I knew more.”
“You think I’m in danger?”
“Hard to say,” says Nishan. “First of all, if this is a code only the two of you know, it’s unlikely anyone could link you to anything, which is probably why Albert confided in you.
Maybe something came to light during the ride in the minibus.
Maybe this is something he’d been dealing with in his professional life but had been keeping from you.
At the moment, a lot of maybes. The point is, as far as others are concerned, there is no way you could have been involved.
Have you told anyone else about the message? ”
“No. I was going to call Alice. But on the bus, on my way here, I saw police cars up on the pavement outside Callico House.”
Once again, Josh and Nishan share a look.
“Do they have staff in the house?” asks Nishan.
“Three. Ms Ross, the cook, and Mr and Mrs Buckland. He works as a maintenance man and caretaker, and his wife runs the house.”
“Were you close to any of them?”
“No. I was only really on speaking terms with Albert and Alice.”
“Okay, a number of things, Gabe,” begins Nishan, who has a keen gleam in his eye. “Did you pick up the notebook Albert mentioned in the first message?”