Junk (23 page)

“Morning,” Jasper called cheerily. “Thought I’d get going before you arrived. I didn’t have any boxes to pack things into, but I wanted to clear the front door so we could get in and out more easily. I used bin bags for all the junk mail.” He gestured at a couple of full sacks sitting by the front door. “I still want to sort through them, though. Hope that’s all right.”

“Of course it’s all right. It’s more than all right.” Lewis let how very much more it was show in a cheek-straining grin, then pulled Jasper into a hug. “I’m so impressed you did all this before I even got here.” Jasper was wearing only a thin T-shirt and jogging bottoms, so every inch of his body was tantalisingly apparent through the fabric.

Lewis let go before the sensation got him too excited to concentrate on the task ahead. “Boxes. I’ve got boxes in the van. I’ll go fetch some.”

“I’ll get some coffee on the go too. Should I make a flask to take to the warehouse?”

“Good idea.”

“Great.” Jasper sauntered off inside, the twin mounds of his backside ever so apparent in his thin clothing. Lewis stifled a groan and adjusted his jeans.

Today did look like it was going to be challenging, after all. Just not in the way he’d imagined.

The first assault to Jasper’s calm came when Lewis removed one of the stacks in front of the hat stand. Suddenly there they were: Mama’s best winter coat and the scarf Yusef had knitted for her.

“Your mum’s?” Lewis asked, turning towards him.

“Yes.” He stumbled forwards, twisting to get around the half-packed boxes on the way.

The scarf was just as he remembered it, despite being festooned with dust, but the coat looked odd. Ragged, somehow. He pulled at the sleeve to get a better look, and the fabric tore at the shoulder. Dust billowed out.

“Oh my God!” He took a step back, horrified, and tripped. He landed heavily on a box and stared up at the coat hanging there with the sleeve draped over a stack of books. It looked like it was pointing at him in accusation.

“Are you all right?” Lewis asked, holding out a hand to help him up. “Looks like you’ve had clothes moths. Must have been a wool fabric. I’m afraid that will be ruined now. Not good for anything other than the bin.”

“Moths? I had no idea.”

“They were the bane of my life one place I lived in. They’re little beige things. You’re bound to have seen them flying around.”

Had he? He’d always been more focused on the books, but now that Lewis mentioned it, he remembered seeing the odd one here and there. “Sometimes. But all houses have moths, don’t they?”

“Not this sort. They’re a real problem if you don’t store your woollens properly.”

“I had no idea. Are they going to have ruined anything else?”

“It’s possible. They go for wool, silk, feathers and fur. All the natural, protein-based fibres. Your books should be fine, though.”

“Even the leather-bound ones?”

Lewis’s lips twisted. “I don’t know. I hope so.”

Jasper racked his brains, trying to think what else was hidden behind the books. Had his mother owned much in the way of wool and furs? Possibly. She had felt the cold keenly, always complaining about the damp chill of British winters.

“Jasper?” Lewis was standing up close to him, his voice soft, concerned. “How are you feeling?”

Jasper tried to force a smile onto his face, but his muscles wouldn’t cooperate. “I don’t know. I thought… I thought I’d be able to keep things. As mementoes. But now you’re saying it could all be ruined… That coat can’t be saved. Well, it kind of, it kind of—” He broke off, almost choking on the tears he was trying to swallow.

Lewis hugged him tight. “It won’t all be ruined, I promise. It never is, even in the worst hoards.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Lewis pulled back, only to return moments later. “Look, the scarf is okay. A bit dusty, but nothing a washing machine can’t deal with.”

Jasper reached out gingerly, half afraid the delicate lacework would disintegrate when he touched it. But no, it stayed solid, and with growing confidence he handled it, brushing off the worst of the dust from the scalloped edges. “How come this didn’t get eaten?”

“Must be made of something the moths won’t eat. Acrylic, maybe.” Lewis rubbed it between his fingers, like a true clothing connoisseur. “I don’t know. It feels better quality than that. Perhaps cotton or linen. It’s so soft.”

“She loved this scarf. She’d wear it most of the year, even on days when everyone else was sweltering. Yusef made it for her.” A love token, he now realised. He wanted to hold on to it, on to everything she’d loved, but perhaps there was someone who’d appreciate it even more. “He loved her. I only found out the other day. She wouldn’t have him, though. Wanted to stay loyal to Dad. What a waste.”

“Why do you say that?”

“They could have been happy together. Yusef’s a lovely man. He’d have treated her well. Instead, she threw away all that time they could have had together over some pointless scruples.”

“They probably didn’t seem pointless to her,” Lewis said, his voice strange. Defiant, almost. Before Jasper could figure out what he meant by it, Lewis started talking brightly, but his words sounded hollow. Forced. “We should carry on filling boxes. There’s a storm forecast for later. Want to make sure we’re finished up here before it hits.”

But Jasper wasn’t going to be thrown off the subject that easily. He toyed with the scarf again, tugging it gently so the stitches spread out and revealed their intricate beauty. “Do you think he’d like to have it to remember her by?”

He looked up then to find Lewis smiling, but pain still lurked in his eyes. When he spoke, this time his voice barely rose above a whisper. “I think that’s a lovely idea.”

They continued the packing in near silence, but to Jasper’s surprise, it really wasn’t awkward. Lewis was obviously in a subdued mood, but he was still Lewis. Still kind and attentive whenever Jasper needed him. The next time happened to be when Jasper began clearing the books from in front of the living room door. There hadn’t seemed any point in leaving it clear when the way in was blocked anyway.

Blocked.

He stared at its blank white face. He knew a door couldn’t possibly be mocking him, but it felt exactly like it was doing that.

“Oh crap.”

“What? What is it?”

“I just realised, how are we going to get inside the rooms? There was a book avalanche behind this door.”

Lewis came to stand next to him, rubbing his chin, and Jasper wanted nothing more than to lean against him and absorb his strength, his practicality.

But he stood firm, because he was buggered if he was going to lay out every little moment of weakness for Lewis’s dissection.

“We can’t get at the hinges to take it off from this side. Does it open at all? Even just a little bit?” Lewis asked.

They cleared the rest of the books away before trying. With both of them putting their weight behind it, they managed to get it open a couple of inches. Lewis wedged a folded-up piece of cardboard underneath to keep it from closing again.

Jasper could see the ends of the colourful spines of the neatly ordered stack of gardening paperbacks right by the door, but that was all. “This is useless. We can’t reach the ones blocking it.”

“We might have to get someone to cut through the door.”

And damage his house. Jasper’s throat burned with acid. “I don’t want anyone doing that.” He couldn’t stand the idea of having a workman in here, seeing how he’d been living. Seeing how pathetic he was.

“What about the windows?” Lewis asked.

“What about them?”

“How would you feel about taking one out and getting into the room that way?”

That would be worse. Even with all the trees outside, the neighbours next door would still be able to see. He knew Mrs. Baptiste already considered him a nuisance neighbour and gossiped about him any chance she got. Yusef had told him as much.

“Jasper? Can you tell me what you’re thinking?”

Lewis’s voice was calm and patient, and it helped Jasper find a way out of the quagmire of his thoughts. “I don’t want anyone else seeing in here.”

“Okay. I understand.” Lewis hummed a couple of times, then reached into the gap, right near the top of the door.

“It’s pointless. I might just have to give up on that room. Use the ones that aren’t blocked. At least if I can get those clear, I can live well enough. Kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, hallway. That’s enough for one man.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lewis muttered, his face screwing up in concentration as he wriggled his hand around. “We’re not going to let one stupid door beat us into submission. There!” he said triumphantly as his hand finally emerged from the top of the door holding a paperback copy of an old organic gardening book. “That’s one off the top of this first stack.”

Jasper stared at it. “Oh my God. How did you manage that?”

“Must be my dainty wrists.” Lewis posed in a limp-wristed manner and winked. “Always knew they’d come in handy one day.”

Jasper fought back the smile. He’d never been especially comfortable with effete parodies of homosexuality, but Lewis did look adorable, especially with that smirk on his face.

“Come on, cheer up. We’ve got a way in.”

“What? One book at a time like that? It’ll take forever.”

“It’ll get easier the more I remove, and once that stack’s gone, we might be able to reach what’s on the floor behind the door.”

“I doubt it. There are more stacks behind that one.”

“Then I’ll remove those, one book at a time. We’ll have plenty of help at the weekend, won’t we?”

“Yusef said they’ll all help on Sunday.”

“Great. So while the rest of you are working on the upstairs, I’ll be fighting my way into this room.”

“It’s not only this one, you know. The others are just as badly blocked.” All except one room, but he didn’t want to go into why just yet.

“One door at a time, Jasper. One door at a time. If you focus on the big picture too much, it can rob you of your energy. Little tasks are much more achievable.”

“Little tasks. Right.” There was nothing little about the job ahead, but as Jasper looked back towards the front door, he had to admit they’d already made a huge difference in one morning. The table by the front door was clear, the floor was clear, as was the section of wall between the front door and the living room door. Okay, so it was only six-foot-long stretch, but it was the first time he’d seen it in years. That Monet print Mama had loved still hung there, and he could see the poppies glowing under the shroud of dust.

“There’s more light coming in already,” he said.

“We’re doing brilliantly. Trust me. I’m so proud of what you’ve managed to do today.”

And when Lewis’s hand landed on Jasper’s shoulder, he could almost begin to believe it.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Lewis still wasn’t entirely sure how Jasper would cope with the warehouse. He’d met the lettings agent there at seven that morning and spent the following couple of hours checking the place over and preparing for things arriving. He had to concede it was a fairly uninspiring place, bleak and somehow managing to feel chilly even on what had to be the muggiest day of the year so far. However, when he pulled Alice up outside, he did his best to project confidence, despite the run-down appearance of the exterior. The locked gate had meant it had avoided being tagged with graffiti, but it was now being taken over by the scrubby buddleia growing out of the chinks in the walls.

“Hold on,” he said as they pulled up to the rusty gate in the chain-link fence. “I’ve got a key for the padlock.”

Jasper’s face had turned alarmingly pale, so instead of suggesting he get out and unlock it, Lewis killed the engine and did it himself. Good thing he did, as he’d forgotten to bring up the WD40 to deal with the rust and it still took a bit of grappling to open. Jasper probably would have given up and sunk into a depression. It had almost happened twice already that morning, what with the coat and the blocked door, but both times Lewis had managed to talk him out of it.

It was tough to maintain his mental energy in this sultry heat, though.

He stared up at the sky. The clouds hung low and brassy, and the air crackled with ozone. Soon. He pushed his sweat-heavy hair off his forehead and sighed. The rain couldn’t come a moment too soon.

The neighbourhood wasn’t the nicest, so Lewis stopped the van on the other side of the fence and locked up behind them, before driving round the corner to be faced with the warehouse itself.

“Oh.” Jasper’s despondent expression spoke volumes.

Lewis tried to lift his mood with chatter. “I know it’s looking pretty shabby, but it was the only decent-sized empty place we could find in a convenient location. We figured having it on the route between your home and work would help you find more time to sort through things. Hiring somewhere on the outskirts of town would have been a real disincentive. And it’s not all that bad on the inside, really. I’ve got us a kettle sorted out and everything. Tomorrow I’ll bring along a cafetière and some of that awful syrupy stuff you like to lace your coffee with.” That last comment raised a twitch of a smile. “Come on. Help me open the doors. It’s way too hot and sticky for me to be doing all the heavy work by myself.”