Junk (16 page)

“I see. And there’s no one on your dad’s side?”

“Nope. He was an only child, and my grandparents are both dead. It’s just me now.”

Lewis’s smile was more melancholy than a smile had any right to be. “I’d happily give you some of mine. There’s more than enough to go round. And they drive me up the wall at times.”

That was hard to imagine, with Lewis being so calm and level. But it was easier to turn it into a tease than to voice that thought. “You want to palm off your annoying relatives? Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. You can have my folks if you like. They’re good people, but they’ve got some pretty weird habits. You’d never believe I share their DNA.”

He wanted to ask to meet them, to be welcomed into this family he’d already heard so much about, but it would have sounded ridiculously needy. “Come on. Papers. I’m doing all the heavy lifting here.”

Lewis lifted his own armful and grinned. “Righto. Let’s get to it.”

Half an hour later, as Jasper flicked through a copy of Le Monde from 2009, Lewis interrupted his thoughts. “I was wondering, do you have a set budget for this sorting-out process?”

“Not really. Well, I have savings. Haven’t really had much to spend my salary on, and the mortgage is all paid off.” But his savings were precious, his insurance for the future… Not that they’d be any use if civilisation did collapse. “I don’t know. I still want to be careful with them… Why? What are you thinking?” Please, God, not some kind of intensive residential camp for recovering hoarders. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than being stuck in a room full of strangers, forced to do therapeutic exercises and spill his guts.

“It’s not too pricey. Don’t worry. It’s just something we’ve done once or twice before when there’s a large hoard to sort through. I was thinking, there’s no room inside to sort, and we can only do it out here while the weather allows, so why not hire some extra space? There’s a warehouse we could rent nearby, and we could take things there to sort through them.”

“What, like empty the whole kitchen in one go?” The idea made him shiver. Did he really want to see the skeleton of the room exhumed?

“Kind of, but think bigger. We could empty the whole house. And while it’s empty, get everything fixed up and some carpenters in to build your bookshelves while we get sorting off site.”

The whole house? Even upstairs? Even Mama’s room? “No.” Jasper wrung the newspaper he was holding until it began to crumple and tear. “No. Definitely not. I couldn’t do that.”

But Lewis continued, relentless. “I know the idea’s daunting, but it really speeds up the process, and you’re going to need shelves to store the ones you plan to keep. This way, you could find out exactly how much shelf space was available and make sure you don’t keep any more books than that.”

“No. Sorry, but no.”

“You don’t need to make your mind up yet. It’s just an option to consider. Keep it in the back of your head in case you feel ready later on.” Lewis’s hand landed on his shoulder, but Jasper wasn’t in the mood to enjoy it.

“I said no! N. O. What part of that is so hard to understand?” Jasper dropped the newspaper and pushed the hand off his shoulder, the gesture more violent than he’d intended. God. What had he done? He didn’t want to alienate Lewis.

Far from looking upset, though, Lewis was regarding him with his head tilted to one side, that way he always did when he was thinking. “Can you tell me what it is that upsets you about the idea?”

“No.” Jasper began cracking his knuckles, barely aware he was doing so. All his attention focused on avoiding thinking about the answer.

“No, you don’t know, or no, you don’t want to?”

Jasper refused to answer, cracking his knuckles one by one until the noise made even him wince. In the end, Lewis stilled his restless hands by grasping hold of them. Jasper let himself be held, even though the muggy heat made them both clammy.

“Okay. I’m not going to ask you again because I can see how much it’s upset you. Just let me know when you’re ready to share.” Lewis sounded so confident. So sure of himself. But how would Jasper ever be ready to share something he was determined not to think about?

But he tried to smile, and when Lewis squeezed his hands, he returned the pressure.

Chapter Fifteen

Two days later, on a bright evening, Lewis was sweating buckets on his local tennis court, thoughts of Jasper temporarily banished by the effort required in beating his dad at his favourite sport. Considering how much extra weight Alan Miller carried around, he was still surprisingly good at the game he’d excelled in as a youth. This time, though, Lewis bested him in only three sets.

“Game, set and match to Lewis Miller!” Lewis crowed, tossing his racquet up into the air and catching it neatly. “Good game, Dad.”

His dad gave him a wry smile from his stooped position, his hands resting on his knees. “Think I might be getting too old for this. Can’t even win a single bloody set anymore.”

“You won a few games, though.” Lewis joined him on the other side of the net and peered anxiously. His dad didn’t usually take this long to recover, and he was worryingly red in the face.

“Yes,
few
being the operative word.”

“Are you feeling okay? Need to take any of your meds?”

His dad straightened up with a groan. “I’ll be fine. Honestly, I think it’s just this clammy heat. Far too bloody humid for my liking.”

“Why don’t we sit down for a bit before heading home. I’ll get you a drink.” Lewis steered him towards one of the benches facing the courts, and to his surprise, his dad didn’t protest at being treated like an invalid. Worrying, really. He’d been denying the severity of his angina ever since it had been diagnosed, and Lewis had taken his words at face value. After all, his dad never acted like he had a health condition and had carried on as active and hearty as ever. Seeing him suffering was like being drenched in ice-cold reality.

But by the time Lewis returned with a couple of cans of iced tea, his dad looked far more his usual self. He even grimaced at the tea. “They still haven’t listened to my requests for lager in the vending machine, then?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Lewis answered, clicking cans when his dad held his out. “Cheers, Dad.”

They drank in silence for a while, Lewis gazing up at the treetops while his dad apparently ogled the two young women in short skirts who’d taken the court after them. It was unoccupied moments like this that were dangerous, Lewis was discovering. These were the unguarded times when thoughts of Jasper snuck up on him and refused to leave. Memories of their conversations and their kiss were swirled in with a kaleidoscope of fantasies, from the domestic to the downright sensual. What would Jasper look like when he…

Lewis sighed. No, he shouldn’t torture himself with those kinds of questions.

“Want to tell me about it?” his dad asked.

Lewis glanced over at him. His gaze was fixed on the court, but Lewis had a feeling he was still being closely observed. Did he want to talk? Perhaps it would help to get it all out there to an impartial listener. Dad had proved good with this stuff in the past. “It’s one of my clients,” he began, then didn’t know quite how to continue.

“Is this one more obstinate than usual?”

That called up a chuckle. “You could say. And not just about his hoard. He’s got major transference going on. Thinks we’re made for each other.”

“And are you?” It was hard to tell what his dad was thinking from the tone of his voice.

“I don’t know. I do like him. A lot.”

“In a sexual way?”

“In pretty much every way.” Lewis drew his fingertips through the condensation on the side of his can. “He kissed me last week. I shouldn’t have let it happen, and I’m on my guard now. But… I don’t know. I’ve got feelings for him. Must be counter-transference, I reckon. He’s a model client in nearly every way. He’s gaining real insight to his problems.”

“Not like the usual stubborn old bastards, then?”

“Not really. Well, sometimes he is. No one’s perfect.”

The two tennis players high-fived each other over the net, and Lewis slouched back against the bench, tipping his head back farther to watch the last rays of the sun lighting up the treetops. “I suppose I should hand him over to Carroll, really, but it’s not like I want to start a relationship with someone when they’re going through all this, anyway. It would be taking advantage of him when he’s in a vulnerable state.”

“Do you think Carroll would be right for him? She’s got a very different approach to you. Something of the bulldozer about her, I’ve always thought.”

“She’s really good with some clients. But I don’t know. Not with Jasper, I think. Not yet, anyway. Maybe when he’s further into the process it would work.”

“So what are you going to do about this Jasper’s crush on you?”

“What can I do? Just carry on like this, I reckon. And make sure he doesn’t kiss me again. Have you got any tips? You must have had students try it on with you in the past?”

“In the past? I’m not over the hill just yet, I’ll have you know.” His dad huffed and straightened himself up. “Honestly? It’s always so bloody flattering when it’s this pretty young woman making eyes at me, and I get why so many of my colleagues can’t seem to help themselves, but it just isn’t ethical. I’m in a position of authority, and it’s up to me to be the responsible one. You’ve just got to stick to your standards like glue and order your body to behave. Of course, being married helps. I’ve got the thought of Cassie skinning me alive to keep me on the straight and narrow.”

“So you think I’m right to insist on a professional distance?”

“Of course.” His dad grunted and leaned down to start massaging his calf muscles. “There’s only one person you’re answerable to, and that’s your client. His needs come first. And I don’t mean the needs he thinks he has, but the actual ones. He needs you to be his therapist, not his lover. You’re much more use to him that way.”

“Yeah, I know you’re right.” Lewis watched the leaves above him rustle as a pigeon came home to roost. His dad had just told him everything he wanted to hear.

So how come he didn’t feel any more content?

Jasper sat cross-legged on the veranda and stared at his phone. It would be so easy to call Lewis—just a simple touch of the screen—but then what? Begging to see him again would be beyond pathetic, and he didn’t want to come across like the needy, desperate obsessive he really was. Besides, all Lewis would say was that they’d be seeing each other in the morning. It wasn’t like he had a valid reason to call on a Sunday.

But he couldn’t take another day of being alone with his books. They’d gone from being comforting to disturbing. Inside the house, he was constantly assaulted by their presence, the accusing fingers they pointed at him. Maybe a run would be in order, although the muggy heat stole any enthusiasm for that idea.

No, what he really wanted was company. Someone to talk to. If Lewis was out of the question, that left him a grand total of…

Jasper scrolled through the contacts on his phone. Yep, just a few workmates, his doctor’s surgery, and Mas. What a life.

He stared at the headshot of Mas, grinning dreamily after Jasper had just screwed him senseless. Looked like it would have to be him.

Mas was standing where he’d promised in his text, leaning on the railings overlooking the Avon outside the Watershed arts centre. Jasper joined him and stared out at the boats. On their side of the river, rows of small white cruisers were neatly moored, one of them flying a rainbow flag, which was nice to see. The other side of the river was lined with narrowboats and the occasional floating restaurant, and in the distance, he could see the white masts of larger boats.

“So,” Mas began, “if this isn’t a booty call, what have I dragged my arse out of bed for at this ungodly hour of the morning?”

“It’s half-past eleven.” Jasper watched the strolling shoppers and tourists crossing the river on the footbridge, dwarfed by the weird metal trumpets that grew out of it, like giant lilies reaching for the sky. “Look, the world is up and awake. It’s hardly early.”

“Any hour of the morning is ungodly on a Sunday. Never could understand why Mum used to insist on dragging me to church then. I told her God would be having a lie-in after watching all the sinners at it like rabbits on Saturday night. He’s like the ultimate voyeur or something. Watching your every move. Reading every dirty thought you ever have. I must keep him busy twenty-four/seven, I reckon.”

“You told your mum all that?”

Mas waved a hand dismissively. “Just the edited highlights. No point trying to reason with her. Not since the JW’s brainwashed her. She’s pretty much disowned me now, although I do still get cards on birthdays and Christmas.”

“I didn’t think Jehovah’s Witnesses were allowed to celebrate Christmas.”

“They’re not. That’s what makes those poxy little supermarket cards so special, isn’t it?”

So Mas had pretty much lost his mother too, by the sound of it. They had so much in common, the two of them, and they were good in bed. Life would be so much easier for everyone if Jasper could just fall for him instead of Lewis.

But wishing was futile. He’d learned that lesson a long time ago.