Junk (6 page)

He was using a letter opener to carefully slice open the tape holding the packing paper around a book from the final box, when Brenda shuffled over to his desk, her arms weighed down by a stack of periodicals that reached her chin.

“Got some room there, love?” she asked, dumping the papers on his desk before he’d had a chance to respond. “These are all on their way out. Would you mind? I’m meeting Imogen for coffee, and I’m already late. Don’t want her thinking I’ve stood her up.”

“No, that’s fine. I’ll take them out when I’ve finished this lot.” It was a short walk across the quad to get to the university’s recycling facilities, but he knew how much Brenda hated even that much exercise. It wasn’t that she was overweight or anything, but she had the lifelong bookworm’s instinctive distrust of anything approaching physical exertion. Jasper seemed to be the anomaly among his coworkers, what with his love of running.

“You are a sweetheart.” Brenda leaned over the desk and kissed Jasper on the forehead. “How come you’re still single, eh? Bet I could find you a good man if you’d let me know what you’re after.”

“How about someone who loves all the same books I do, who can quote Shakespeare, and who doesn’t mind the state of my house?”

“Could be doable. How bad is your house anyway? Can’t be worse than Immi’s. That girl’s a total pig.”

Jasper just shrugged, remembering the spread of photographs Lewis had laid out on the table. No, there was no chance of anyone sticking around once they’d seen his place. That’s why it was safer to stick to online hook-ups. He’d always made it clear in advance it had to be at their place rather than his. Most of them probably thought he was cheating on a partner at home, but that was infinitely preferable to them discovering the truth.

Just lately, though, he’d been sticking to seeing Mas, a young man with a big smile who was an energetic and enthusiastic bottom. It wasn’t that Jasper was particularly toppy, and he certainly didn’t want to be the sugar daddy Mas was searching for. It was more that he hadn’t wanted to go through that whole rigmarole of sounding someone new out first. At least he liked Mas, and they were mostly compatible in bed.

“I’m happy with my life the way it is.” He crossed his arms and glared at Brenda.

She was still studying him, her arms folded on the top of the magazine pile. The woman clearly couldn’t take a hint. “Hmm, give me a bit of time to test the waters, and I’ll see who I can find.”

“I’m fine with being a bachelor. Books are better company than people. They don’t hog the bedclothes or mess with your things.”

Brenda just gave him an infuriatingly smug smile. “Ah, well, you say that now, but how would you know if you just haven’t met the right bloke yet? He’s out there. And I’m going to find him for you. Ciao for now, babes.” She blew him a kiss as she trotted off towards the library’s main exit.

What was it with the happily coupled woman’s urge to matchmake? Since she’d paired up with Imogen, Brenda had gone from engagingly cynical about love to the world’s soppiest romantic. Actually, it wasn’t just the women either. One of the engineering postgrads had been in the other day threatening to set up a blind date for Jasper with some mate of his boyfriend’s. Did Jasper have a sign on his forehead saying “lonely” or something?

He wasn’t lonely all the time. He could forget about it for hours while running or reading. And he didn’t need a boyfriend to satisfy his need for intimate contact either. Jasper pulled out his mobile and texted Mas, asking
Are you free tonight after eight?
Mas could be relied on for a no-complications shag at his city-centre flat. It was simpler that way. Simpler than messy emotional entanglements.

No. He definitely didn’t need to get embroiled in some relationship where someone expected too much of him. Wanted him to open up and share things.

He was never going to show anyone the guilt eating him up inside.

Five minutes later, his phone buzzed. He checked the message inbox.

8 is gd, but just a quickie im gng out.

No expectations. No mess. Shame the prospect of a quick and dirty encounter with Mas didn’t excite him nearly as much as just the rub of Lewis’s fingers across his had done.

Friday brought a long morning of clearing the Lehrmans’ place, which involved Lewis and Carroll getting all hot and sweaty parading a bunch of junk past the elderly siblings while they sat outside in camping chairs, and the Lehrmans deciding they couldn’t possibly live without any of it. Actually, that wasn’t fair. Gladys Lehrman was ready to let things go now. It was her stubborn brother who refused. It was no coincidence that this was the man who also refused to stick around for the counselling sessions.

Frustrated, Lewis decided to spend his afternoon off at the pool, swimming length after length. He became so absorbed in the hypnotic glide through the water that he lost track of time, only glancing up at the clock at half three.

Crap. He’d been meaning to get home and change into something more attractive before heading out to Jasper’s place, but it looked like he’d end up late if he did. Lewis hurried through to the changing rooms and did his best to wash the smell of chlorine off his skin before throwing back on the plain old T-shirt and cargo shorts combo. He looked a bit like a GAP model with his chunky leather sandals, but it couldn’t be helped. Anyway, he wasn’t trying to impress Jasper with his natty dress-sense, was he? The man probably didn’t even notice clothes. You only had to take one look at Jasper’s rumpled, mismatched wardrobe to figure that out.

The bus dropped Lewis off at the bottom of the hill, and it was a long walk up with the late afternoon sun beating on his back and the day’s stored heat radiating off the tarmac. By the time he reached number sixty-four, it was a relief to be able to slip under the cool green shade of those overgrown trees. Jasper could have a beautiful garden if he cleared the place up a bit.

As to how much of a challenge awaited them inside… Well, that remained to be seen. Lewis rubbed his hands together and knocked on the door.

No one came. Lewis checked his watch. Yep, he was on time. Just how long could it take Jasper to negotiate the junk in his house? He rapped on the door harder this time. He even tried stepping back to call to the upstairs windows, but one look at them made him realise the futility of Jasper hearing anything that way. Both sets of curtains were pressed back against the glass with the weight of whatever lay behind them. Mildew had stained the linings, and more of the green algae that coated everything in the garden grew up the glass.

This could end up being one of his toughest challenges yet. Perhaps an insurmountable one, if Jasper was too nervous to show for the appointments.

Unless he just couldn’t get to the door. What if he was trapped under a pile of fallen paper? It happened. Hoarders died that way every year. Admittedly, it was mostly the elderly who didn’t have the strength to dig themselves out again, but even a young and healthy man like Jasper could be in serious trouble if enough heavy stuff went over.

Paper was heavy stuff.

Keeping the panic at bay with decisive action, Lewis forced open the letter box and called for Jasper. He held his ear to the gap but couldn’t hear any response from within. He was just wrestling his phone out of his pocket to try the man’s mobile, when a voice from behind him made him jump.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. There were road works in town and a huge traffic jam, and I got stuck outside Cabot Circus for twenty minutes. I should have rung, I know, but I don’t like to use my phone in the car. I mean, I know everyone else does, but the law is the law, even when you’re not moving. I hope you didn’t get put off by what you can see through the letterbox. It’s better in the kitchen, I promise.” As he babbled, Jasper shuffled closer, his keys held out in front of him almost like a weapon he was afraid to use. Lewis realised what his pose must have looked like.

“I wasn’t looking; I was listening. I thought maybe you might…” His face heated as he continued. It sounded silly, with Jasper standing in front of him, all vibrant eyes and nervous twitches. “Sometimes people get trapped in their houses when things fall over. I wanted to make sure you weren’t in there, needing help.”

For a moment, he thought Jasper might bristle, might feel patronised, but instead a smile broke slowly across his face, tilting the corners of his eyes in a way that made Lewis’s heart flip. “Oh. Thanks.” The sincere way he said it suggested maybe he wasn’t used to having people look out for him, and once again, Lewis found himself wondering just how many friends the man really had.

“Not a problem,” he said gruffly, still a little embarrassed at having been caught out. “It’s just one of my recurring dreams. Being buried under an avalanche of stuff.”

“You have nightmares too?”

“Don’t we all?”

“I don’t know. I thought you seemed so…together. Not like me.” Jasper took a step closer, and Lewis could smell him then. A hint of soap mingled with a larger dose of sweat. But fresh sweat, so not unpleasant. Not by a long stretch.

Lewis’s eyes drifted closed for a moment to better concentrate on Jasper’s scent. Lulled by the drowsy heat and the distant buzz of traffic, he drifted for a moment, almost content.

Then his eyes sprang open. Jasper was closer now, staring down at him with a quizzical tilt to his left eyebrow. For a breathless moment, he held eye contact, and Lewis could make out the flecks of amber in his dark eyes. They were like a glass of dark rum held up to the sunlight, rich colours swirling within.

“Are you okay?” Jasper asked.

“Fine, fine. Sorry. I was up late last night. Probably should have got more sleep.” Now why did he say that? He didn’t want Jasper thinking he was some kind of party animal. “I mean, I was up playing Trivial Pursuit with my folks; then the heat stopped me sleeping.” What a wild life he led.

“Oh yes, I know. Sometimes I have to sleep in the hammock. Can’t open any of the windows in the house,” Jasper added, his eyes darting away again in their habitual dance.

The house. “Are you ready to show me the inside now?”

Jasper folded his arms around himself, and for a moment, Lewis expected a negative. But when it came, although quietly voiced, the “yes” sounded firm and sure.

It was only when Jasper stepped around him to unlock the front door that Lewis noticed the triangle of sweat turning the back of his faded shirt a darker shade of green. Nerves, or simply a result of the heat?

The lock seemed to give Jasper some trouble, but after a few muttered curses, it opened a foot or so, and Jasper slipped through the narrow gap. “Come on in,” he called from inside.

It was a good thing Lewis was slim. As it was, he had to brush against the table piled high with junk mail sitting just inside the door. A pile of envelopes slid to the floor. A floor that was carpeted with more of them. As Lewis raised his gaze, he commanded his face to stay expressionless. After the number of cluttered homes he’d seen in his eight years working with Carroll, very little still shocked him, but he’d learned to be careful.

He was glad he had.

The hallway was dark, but enough green-tinged light filtered in through the stained glass above the door for him to see the brooding stacks of books that lined both sides of the narrow corridor. Ahead of him were two paths to take: on the left was a passageway towards the back of the house, on the right, a staircase. The staircase appealed the most as a shaft of sunshine lit the upper risers, but the path up was obstructed by yet more books. Dog-eared paperbacks with lurid covers sat next to plastic-covered textbooks. There were old, leather-bound spines butted up next to ones that looked like they hadn’t yet been cracked. Like the corridor, both sides of the staircase had been conquered by the books, so that only a foot or so of clear wooden boards were on show in the middle.

Jasper Richardson’s home looked like it had had the entire contents of a library jammed into it for temporary storage, and the Dewey decimal classification system had been utterly abandoned.

Lewis scanned the room again, noticing how high the stacks had reached. Not quite up to the picture rail, and he could see the tops of some frames peeking out above the makeshift book skyscrapers. There was even an old-fashioned wooden coat stand lurking back there, with an incongruous lacy pink scarf just visible. Somehow he couldn’t see Jasper as a cross-dresser. The wallpaper behind them was covered in blowsy roses, and from the texture, it looked like expensive stuff.

“So was it your mother who decorated the place originally?” Lewis asked, pleased at how matter-of-fact his voice sounded. Jasper started visibly, but in the dim light, all Lewis could make out behind his glasses was a dark shadow.

“No, well, er, yes. But I don’t remember mentioning that to you.” Jasper’s eye started twitching. The motion of that, at least, was visible in the gloom.

“You didn’t in so many words,” Lewis soothed. “I just couldn’t see you picking out that wallpaper, that’s all.”

“Oh! No, of course. Well, I expect it probably needs replacing by now. Not that I imagine I’d ever be able to decide on a design. Or even a simple sodding paint colour. And that’s if we ever manage to get this lot under control.” He cast a woeful look around him and his shoulders slumped, as if the house was sapping him of all his excess nervous energy. Clutter could do that to you if you let it take over.