Chapter 4
Four
Nash
I’m drinking a stubby bottle of beer on the back of one of my brothers’ yachts as we head out for a few hours of sailing along with our close friends, Chris and Sam.
We’ve all grown up together in this small village in rural Norfolk, and despite the age differences between myself, my brothers, and the lads, we all get along great.
The weather today is crisp and clear, and despite today having been planned for months – weather dependent, obviously – I’m honestly surprised Aidan is even here.
I thought he’d cry off to spend time with Rain, his new partner.
He turned up only a few weeks ago, but the two of them have fallen hard and fast for each other, to the point where they’re basically an old married couple already.
When Rain arrived beaten black and blue, Aidan called me over to his house to examine him and make sure he wasn’t at immediate risk.
I’m not normally one to indulge melodramatic notions, but when I saw the damage and pain inflicted upon Rain, I understood.
He’d been beaten to a pulp and sexually assaulted by his ex-boyfriend, and I can say, in full and complete truth, that said ex-boyfriend is a vicious cunt.
I’m not even sure if Aidan really grasps the seriousness of the state Rain was in.
His bruising was some of the worst I’ve ever seen, his ribs were fractured, and I’m honestly surprised he didn’t have renal lacerations or even rupture.
He was extremely lucky in the grand scheme of things, at least physically.
Mentally, I think it’s safe to say he’ll have a lot to deal with over the next few months and years with a therapist.
We motor the yacht down the river to Fenside Broad and haul the sails up.
Almost immediately, the brisk winter wind fills the main sheet, and we’re off.
The wooden hull of the boat cuts through the icy water like a knife through butter.
Honestly, the talent of my brothers will never cease to amaze me.
I’m book smart, sure, but I could never hope to build something this beautiful and powerful with my own bare hands.
Aidan, Cole, and Archer are all boat builders of one sort or another.
Aidan builds traditional wooden yachts, like this one, their narrow shape and sharp bows designed perfectly for cutting through the water at speed when sailed by people who know how to squeeze the best out of them.
He’s a bit of a lumberjack type, with dark brown hair ‘styled’ in a man-bun on top of his head, and he spends the majority of his time in plaid overshirts, scruffy T-shirts, and jeans.
Archer – the older twin, dark brown hair, dark brown beard, dark brown eyes, and a gruffness about him that belies his inner sweetness – is the designer and builder of the more leisurely Broads cruisers, so named because of their ability to cruise sedately along the miles of inland waterways that make up the Norfolk Broads National Park.
The cruisers are wider, bigger inside, and more of a holidaymaker’s boat.
They’re easy to pilot, and a little bit more comfortable to sleep in.
I say a little bit because at least in the cruisers you get a bed, whereas in the yachts you get a bunk and you’re lucky if it’s not tucked underneath the galley sink.
Cole, the younger twin, is an incredible cabinetmaker, and he crafts all the wooden interiors of all the boats.
But because he’s often waiting for the others to finish a boat before he can get inside, he also builds bespoke furniture for private clients.
He’s the heartthrob of the family, with his smooth dark hair, clean-shaven face, and startling blue eyes.
The twins aren’t identical, in looks or personality, but they’ve been attached at the hip practically their whole lives.
Where you find one, you’ll invariably find the other.
Their journey to opening Dream Boats started when Aidan began apprenticing with our uncle Alan, a master boatbuilder and our dad’s older brother, who has since retired to France with his wife.
Cole and Archer made it clear they had no intention of going to university after seeing how many hours I was putting into my studies – I tried to explain how medical school was a slightly different prospect to a lot of other degrees, but they were adamant – so, Uncle Alan took them under his wing as well, since they were also incredibly clear that the family farm was not for them either.
That mantle has fallen to Wren, but luckily, she loves it and was born to be a farmer.
I invested in Dream Boats once they started floating the idea of setting up a luxury hire fleet company for holidaymakers.
Norfolk Broads boating holidays have been waning in popularity, but my brothers’ craftsmanship and reputation for excellence keep them booked all season.
My investment was repaid with interest after only a couple of years, and I am so proud of how they’ve built this business.
I may not be able to build boats, but after living in Norfolk our whole lives, we all know how to sail them, and sail them well.
We race up and down the expanse of choppy water for an hour or so, the cold air brightening our cheeks and making our noses run.
The geese honk, and the ducks complain as we disperse their social gatherings with no apology, leaving them in our wake to squawk indignantly.
I always feel free out on the water. I have a tendency to let the heaviness of life land on my shoulders.
Not only that, but as the oldest of five siblings, I’ve always felt the responsibility to step up and help my parents with looking after them when we were younger, and it’s something I’ve never gotten out of the habit of.
Looking after Archer and Cole when they came home drunk, aged only fifteen, and keeping them quiet so Mum and Dad never found out.
Helping Aidan as a teenager when his anxiety disorder threatened to overwhelm him, and making sure Mum and Dad never found out how bad it was.
Aidan had been paranoid he’d get sent to a mental health facility, which, as an adult and a doctor, I know is highly unlikely, but at fifteen and sixteen years old, we didn’t know any better.
I’ve always been the one my siblings turned to when they needed help, and the same is true even now.
Wren and I talk regularly about her on-again, off-again relationship with Sam.
They’ve been dancing around each other for years, and Wren was over the moon when they finally arranged a first date years ago, only for her to wake up and find he’d disappeared in the middle of the night.
It turned out he’d been terrified of how deep his feelings for her ran after only one night together, and he panicked and fucked off to uni two months early.
He moved back a couple of years ago and took ownership of the White Horse, our local pub.
He’s turned it around from a grimy, dingy village pub to a destination pub with an award-winning menu and one of the best selections of local ales in the county.
I know from Wren that since he got back, they buried the hatchet and have been seeing each other again.
She’s madly in love with him, and it’s sweet to see my matter-of-fact, practical, younger sister get all gooey-eyed over Sam whenever they’re together.
Although this is yet another thing I’m keeping from my brothers since Wren and Sam are both shitting themselves over our brothers’ reactions to one of our oldest mates shagging our baby sister.
I try not to think about the…logistics…of their relationship and focus on how happy I am that she’s so happy.
She was so miserable while he was away, and the difference is noticeable.
I can see, on reflection, that I apparently still tend to keep secrets from those I love in an effort to protect them from anything that might upset them.
I guess it’s no wonder I feel like the weight of it all might crush me at times.
But this is where my planning, organising, and staying within the lines I draw for myself helps me keep on top of things.
Eventually, we decide to moor up using the mud weight to secure the boat while we set up our fishing rods, and Aidan is immediately subjected to the Spanish Inquisition from all of us about his and Rain’s relationship.
I see Aidan’s tell-tale signal that his anxiety is rising, and I’m immediately on alert.
“So, lads. I-I could use some advice about something.”
Instantly, everyone is focused on Aidan. He’s a bit of a lone wolf, so for him to be asking for help means something big… or something bad.
“Anything, mate. You know that,” Chris says.
“It’s about Rain.” My first thought is that he’s suffering some kind of physical symptoms as a result of his injuries.
“Is everything going OK?” I ask. “Is he OK?”
“It’s all good,” Aidan replies, reassuring me with his eyes. Rain is, at least physically, well. “We’re fine, and more importantly, he’s fine. He’s back to dancing and—”
“I still can’t believe you built that studio for him,” Archer says around his beer. “It looks fucking sweet, man! I didn’t know you were such a romantic sausage.”
Aidan recently refurbished an old storage shed into a dance studio for Rain, who loves to dance. His injuries have obviously healed sufficiently over the past few weeks that he’s able to move freely again, which is great news.
“Only because he never brought anyone home or had a relationship long enough to see his squishy side,” Cole adds.