Junk (20 page)

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Right, then. That’s settled. We clearly need to prove ourselves to you, so let’s have this Jasper round next week. Carroll tells me he’s of African descent.”

“He’s not a multicultural trophy, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

His mother put on her best “Who,
moi
?” face.

“His mum was Egyptian, but he grew up over here. He’s as English as they come.”

“How do they
come
?” Carroll asked, the mock innocence of her tone not fooling Lewis for a moment. “The English, I mean. I’ve been doing my research, but I could always use some extra input.”

His mum cackled. “Alan used to come like a geyser, but not anymore. These days it’s more like a water fountain. A few gentle spurts and it’s all over.”

“Mum!” Lewis and Carroll protested in unison while their parents cracked up.

“If you start talking about ejaculation when Jasper’s here, I swear I’ll disown you,” Lewis said, only half joking.

“Oh, so he is coming after all? Excellent. It will be great to finally meet a boyfriend of yours your sister likes. Although actually, maybe I shouldn’t take that as too high a recommendation, judging by some of the specimens she’s dragged home over the years. I’ll never forget that one who spent the entire meal droning on about animal rights, then wolfed down that trifle like it was going out of fashion.”

“You let him think it was vegan!”

“I did no such thing. I set him right at the first possible opportunity—”

“—and then he threw up all over the dining table,” his dad finished. They had this tale down pat now. “Come on, you’ve got to admit he was a sanctimonious dick.”

“Actually, he had a very nice dick. Probably the only reason I started going out with him,” Carroll mused.

“I think I’ll divorce the whole lot of you at once,” Lewis said, looking from one smiling face to another. “Jasper’s not used to this kind of talk. He’ll probably self-combust in embarrassment.”

“Nonsense. He’ll be craving a nice cosy family environment. Just you wait and see.” Cassie Wilde folded her arms, looking remarkably mumsy, despite the lack of clothing.

“I hope you’re right,” Lewis muttered.

But all the doubts in the world couldn’t destroy the spark of happiness Jasper’s phone call had resulted in.

They were really getting somewhere. Work wise, anyway. What their personal relationship was doing was anyone’s guess.

Who did the therapist go to for advice when his family were all insane?

Time to phone Brandon.

Brandon was busy getting ready for haymaking, so he said, but Lewis could meet him at the City Farm and then they’d walk back to his place together. It wasn’t the unbroken period of his friend’s close attention he’d been after, but at least they’d be able to chat without Jos being there. Not that he didn’t like the man, but he really wanted to find out what Brandon thought without any interruptions. However, he agreed to the offer of a meal at their place afterwards, seeing as how he’d only eaten half his lunch.

Lewis hadn’t visited the City Farm since Brandon first started working there in the spring, and he was unprepared for how much more lush everything looked. Vegetable plants trailed out over the straw-lined footpaths, and the tang of fruit bushes filled the air. Despite the glimpses of the railway lines and a graffitied bridge from between the trees and the rumble of traffic, it was just that little bit too much like Jasper’s garden for comfort, reminding him of the hurt he’d caused.

Caused to the very last person in the world he wanted to harm.

After wandering around the vegetable plot, he eventually located Brandon sitting on a straw bale in the shade of an apple tree, sharpening a scythe. With his bright red Carhartt hoodie, baggy cut-offs and lime-green All Stars, he looked like a street version of the Grim Reaper.

“Hey, mate,” Brandon called out and patted the bale beside him. “Take a pew. This is gonna take me a while.” He went back to rubbing the blade with a stone. Each long, sharp stroke made a metallic zing.

Lewis eyed the bright, wicked-looking edge of the blade. “Umm, I think I’ll take this one. Don’t want to get my leg cut off.” He pulled another bale out from where it was half buried in the undergrowth. One end was disintegrating, but the other would support him.

“So, what’s up? Long time no see. Again,” Brandon said, but tempered the harshness of his words with a grin.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m a bad friend, but you’re the ones who’ve been away.” Lewis held up the bottle of merlot he’d raided from his parents’ cellar. “Brought you a bottle of red to go with the meal. It’s meant to be a good one.”

Brandon screwed up his nose. “Cheers, mate, but wine? What happened to the usual beers?”

“I don’t know. Figured you two had gone all sophisticated now, after your trip to France. How was it, by the way?”

“Amazing. You should go. The scenery is just stunning, and the French know how to live. All local produce. Loads of tiny smallholdings everywhere. It’s perfectly normal to have little fields with donkeys, geese, pigs and sheep all living together over there, you know? Like proper rural fucking harmony. I kept thinking I’d wandered into a kid’s picture book or something.”

Lewis just nodded. Now Brandon had gone off on one, it seemed pointless to remind him that Lewis had been to the Loire plenty of times on family holidays. If Brandon hadn’t been listening the last time he told him, chances were he wouldn’t be this time either.

“We could learn a lot from them here. I’m working on a proposal for mixing it all up more. Get some livestock. Not gonna let the pasty lentil-munchers block me again. Looking after animals would be a really positive experience for some of the people who visit here, and it’s not like the veganic bunch would have to eat them, is it?”

Lewis just nodded, and after a few more grumbles from Brandon about “bloody hippies” and “entitled trustafarians”, decided it would be up to him to steer the conversation in the direction he wanted.

“I need to ask you something.”

“Yeah? Out with it, then. Ain’t gonna get any easier to ask the longer you sit around squirming.”

“I’m not squirming!”

“Are too. You’re acting like Jos does when he wants something but doesn’t know whether I’m going to agree to it.” Brandon broke into a leer. “It’s fucking sexy. On him, I mean. Not on you. You just look like you’re busting for a piss.”

“Since when did you get so bossy, anyway?” Lewis’s glare was wasted on Brandon, who peered intently at the edge he was sharpening.

“Must be Jos. He likes all that kind of stuff. And when I say likes, I mean
really
likes.”

The lascivious grin didn’t leave Lewis in any doubt as to what Brandon meant. Well, who would have thought Brandon would get into the kinky stuff? Perhaps Jos was better for him than he’d realised. Lewis couldn’t remember Brandon ever oozing this kind of confidence before. It suited him.

“Go on, then. Spit it out. What’s bothering you?”

Lewis stared down at his hands where they hung between his knees, worrying the stalks of straw sticking out the end of the bale. “There’s this guy…”

“There’s always a guy with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, Mr. Serial Monogamist.”

Ouch. But yes, that was probably fair. It wasn’t like he’d ever gone for more than a couple of months between boyfriends. If that. “Okay, but this guy, he’s a client, and he’s totally fixated on me. I’m talking major transference. And that would be fine, but I’ve fancied him forever.” Lewis pulled out a strand of straw and attempted to rip it in half. It refused to tear. “He’s just so bloody tempting. I never should have given in to it, and now I think I’ve screwed everything up.”

“Given in how, exactly? Come on, enquiring minds wanna know.”

Lewis’s cheeks heated. “It was just a frot in his garden, but pretty hot and heavy.” And one of the most mind-blowing sexual experiences of his life so far, as his inability to put the brakes on had proved. “But now I think he’s expecting a relationship of some sort. And I can’t give him that.”

“Not your type, then?”

“No. He’s exactly my type.”

“Oh God, another materialistic arsehole? You should steer well clear, mate. You do know you have terrible taste in men, right?”

“Oi! I’ve made a few bad choices, I know, but Jasper’s different. He’s the kind of bloke I can see me having a future with. Long-term. We’ve got loads in common, and he couldn’t give a flying monkey’s about material stuff. Well, except for all the books he collects, but we’re working on that.”

“Is this that librarian fella Jos wanted to set you up with?”

“That’s him.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, Jos says he’s a nice guy too. And I know he thinks that about everyone, but the way he described him, he sounded like the kind of person I’d get on with.”

“You would. He’s thoughtful. Kind of gentle. Majorly indecisive and a world-class procrastinator, but we’re working on that too.”

“So, let me get this right. He’s a nice bloke, you fancy him, he fancies you, you had great sex, and you’ve got loads in common. Sorry mate, but you’re going to have to spell out what the problem is, because I’m not seeing it.”

“He’s my client.”

“So?”

“It’s a total abuse of the therapeutic relationship.”

“Who says? It’s not like you have a boss who’s gonna fire your arse. Go for it, I say.”

“But his feelings for me aren’t real. He’s just experiencing transference. You know,” he said, responding to Brandon’s blank expression. “When someone going through the emotional upheaval of therapy starts to attach inappropriate emotions onto the person helping them.”

“Inappropriate? Jesus, you should listen to yourself, mate. Who shoved the stick up your jacksie?”

“I’m not being anal about this. Transference is a real phenomenon. I think he’s falling in love with me. I really upset him afterwards when I said it shouldn’t have happened. He even offered to be friends with benefits, if that was all he could get from me.”

“And you turned him down?”

“Of course.”

Brandon shook his head. “I don’t believe you sometimes. You fancy him, he’s a nice guy, he’s offering it all to you on a plate, no strings attached, and you turn him down? You sure you’re not the one who needs therapy?”

“It’s not that simple.” Brandon was determined to make him spell it out, wasn’t he? “Look, I know me, and I know I’m going to end up falling for him too. That would be a disaster. He’s going through major changes, and he can’t possibly know what he wants long-term right now. What if I fall in love and then he leaves me? I can’t cope with another break-up.” Not if it was Jasper doing the breaking up, anyway. Right now, he had the feeling he wouldn’t care less if he were dumped by another Carlos. “It’s best if we just stick to working together. Maybe the odd coffee as friends in the future. He lives near a great little café.”

Brandon huffed. “So you’re going to spend the rest of your life single, then?”

“No—”

“’Coz that’s the way it’s gonna go if you can’t bloody well trust anyone,” Brandon interrupted. “Listen, mate, I think you might be underestimating this Jasper bloke. Sounds like a pretty steady sort to me. Not likely to suddenly fall out of love just because you’re not his head doctor anymore.” Brandon stood, posing with the scythe. “I’ve just gotta mow the grass down around the edges. You can tag along if you want. Nice thing about scythes, you can still hear yourself think while you’re mowing.”

Lewis watched Brandon cutting down the long grass, mesmerised by the swish of the blade. The grass stood for a moment before toppling, releasing a heady, clean scent.

“Want me to help pick it all up?” he offered, but Brandon declined.

“Needs to dry out where it is, first. Then it’ll be proper hay. Of course, we’ll only end up bloody well composting it, which is a total waste. This little lot could keep a horse going all winter.”

“You want to keep horses? Aren’t they really expensive?”

“Just some old rescue nag. I’m not talking about a racehorse or anything. Just think how amazing that’d be for all the school kids who visit, though. Some of them have never been out into the countryside. They don’t know one end of a cow from the other. Such a fucking shame.”

“Don’t reckon you did yourself six months ago, did you?”

“Watch it, mate. I’ve got a scythe, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“You planning on staying with this project, then?” Brandon’s work tended to be short-term contracts with various right-on charities aiming at a fairer society, all of which fired up his passion, but Lewis had never seen him looking this at home. “It kind of suits you. The whole scarecrow look.”

Brandon picked up a blade of grass and shoved it in his mouth. “Ooo arr. I be turnin’ into a right old country bumpkin. Next thing you know, I’ll be fornicating with sheep.”

“So that’s the real reason you want the livestock.”

Brandon winked and thrust his hips forward. “Oh yeah. I’ll get me a nice little harem going. A different kind of animal for every day of the week. You’d never get bored.”