by Lily Morton
He shifts on his seat, and I’m surprised to see a flush rising on his face. “Nothing. Go on with your problems.”
“Are they more interesting than your dog facts?”
“I suppose so. Unless you’re telling me that you’ve got worms, because according to this magazine, they’ve got a new treatment for that.”
“Not as far as I’m aware.”
“Problems?” he intones.
“I don’t sleep very well in the period before a trial.”
“Is it all that not caring about your client’s bullshit?” he says in a sympathetic tone.
“No,” I say, unable to help the revolted edge in my reply. “I don’t care, and that is a good thing.”
“Why?”
“Because I would not be doing my job correctly. I cannot afford to care. I just have to defend them. That is my job. I’m not their friend or family or their priest. I am their barrister.”
“I can see that all those legal dramas I watched were useless.”
I roll my eyes. “Ridiculous dramas.”
He grins. “So, the problem is that you can’t sleep?”
“No.” I look idly around the waiting room. “My head is too full of facts. They swirl around up there like a—” I search for the word. “Like a kaleidoscope.” I sigh. “Ack. You see the problem, Laurie. I can’t even summon words.”
He scans my features, and I can almost see the thoughts whirling behind his eyes. He starts to say something, but the door opens, and a man in scrubs calls, “Endof Carlsen?”
I stiffen. “Is he summoning me by my dog’s name?”
Laurie laughs and stands up. “Get used to it.”
“And what is this giving him my surname? I’m not married to the ridiculous creature.”
“No, you’re just his daddy,” my supposed friend says, unable to help his grin as he ambles over to the waiting vet.
I look down at Endof. “Ridiculous,” I say, and he whines as if agreeing.
The next half an hour is spent watching the vet give Endof a thorough examination and his second set of vaccinations. I am lectured about his needs in a manner more befitting my adopting a child, and I listen meekly while fully aware of Laurie hiding his smile poorly.
Finally, the vet turns to his computer. “I’ve signed his health certificate. You’ll need that if you plan to travel now that we’re no longer in Europe. It’s his passport. I’ll file it, but would you like a copy?”
I nod and smile my thanks when he hands it to me. I fold it neatly and put it into my wallet.
“Why in your wallet?” Laurie asks, as nosy as ever.
I wrinkle my nose. He prods for information as if he’s being paid per question. “I might decide to travel abroad quickly.”
“So quickly that you can’t go home and print it off? I wasn’t aware that barristers were such impetuous globe trotters.”
“What you know about barristers would fit on the back of a very tiny stamp,” I inform him.
He and the vet laugh, and I roll my eyes and look down at Endof. “Ready, my friend?”
He gives a soft bark and, to everyone’s astonishment, sits down and offers me a paw.
Laurie shakes his head. “I didn’t expect that.”
“I did,” I say entirely untruthfully. “I expect him to behave, and the animal senses my will. It is straightforward, really.”
He arches one eyebrow. “As simple as him chewing your wallet?”
I look down at Endof, who immediately adopts an innocent face that is slightly spoiled by the leather wallet hanging out of his mouth. “Bah. This animal is defective.”
Endof behaves himself during a stop off to get supplies for him and even on the journey home, which leaves Laurie and I regarding him with deep suspicion. When we exit the lift, Laurie gets out his keys, and I gape like an idiot at him.
“Where are you going?”
“Home,” he says. “Well, my brother’s home. It’s a long commute to the South of France and back.”
“Can you utter a sentence that doesn’t involve mocking me?”
He gives that serious consideration and then shakes his head. “No.”
“Wait. You’re leaving me on my own with him?” There’s a frantic note in my voice that I can’t repress.
“Who?”
“Endof,” I whisper. “I don’t know what to do with him.”
He bites his lip, a smile tugging at the corner of his wide mouth. “He’s a dog, Mags. You don’t have to do much apart from love him, feed him, walk him, and give him somewhere to sleep. You don’t have to put his name down for a school or save for his dowry.”
I roll my eyes. “I cannot imagine what your dowry would consist of. It’s hugely likely that sarcasm is a component.” He chuckles, and I sigh. “I’m sure we will be fine,” I say haughtily. I look down at Endof, who gives a wild toss of his head. “He’ll probably be quite biddable once we’re alone,” I say doubtfully.
I was very wrong. By the time night falls, Endof has destroyed his bed, two remote controls, and the legs on my sofa. He’s currently lying on the aforementioned sofa, his eyes rolling in his head. I stand staring at him with my hands on my hips. After a few hours of not knowing where the next attack on my defences will occur, I’m sweaty and dishevelled. It’s how I imagine purgatory to be. Tiredness tugs at my body and softens my thought processes.
“You are a menace,” I inform the creature, and he gives a groan and rolls onto his back with his legs in the air.
The doorbell rings, and he immediately rolls over with a manic expression on his face. “No,” I say, but it’s to no avail. His volley of barks sound as if he believes someone is ramraiding my home.
“Be silent,” I command, but he reacts in the same manner he’s treated all my instructions in the last few hours. He completely ignores me. “I’ve changed your name, you stupid animal,” I mutter, grabbing his collar. “You are now called Laurie.”
I throw the door open and eye the man leaning against the doorjamb with a paper bag in his hand. “What do you want?” I ask.
He grins. “I wanted to see how Endof was settling in.”
“Very well, if that actually means destroying the flat.”
He chuckles. “Thought so.” He pushes past me, entirely convinced of his welcome, as he probably should be. I’ve laid out the proverbial red carpet for him ever since I’ve known him.
He looks at the files spread over my dining room table and then shoots me a glance. “You look tired,” he says in a softer voice.
“I am fine,” I say with a sigh. “Thank you. Sleep is always hard-won at these points. I can catch up later.”
He strolls into the kitchen, and Endof and I follow him automatically. He sets the bag down on the counter and removes a jar. “What is that?” I ask.
“Honey.”
“And it is in my flat, why?”
He rolls up his sleeves. “I’m going to make you hot milk and honey.”
“Good grief, why?”
He chuckles. “So you can sleep. It’s an infallible remedy. My mum used to make it for us.”
“Were you five? I can’t imagine it’s happened lately.” I look pointedly at the circles under his eyes.
He flushes, and I immediately relent. For some reason, when he’s uncomfortable, it makes me the same. I’ve given up trying to rationalise why.
He rallies and busies himself in my kitchen. “Go and shower,” he tells me. “I’ll nip Endof out for a pee, and then I’ll make your drink.”
Unable to think of a reason not to obey him, I do as I’m told and head off to have a shower.
When I come back into my lounge, I find him standing a wary distance back from the window, looking out on the view. Night has fallen and the wraparound balcony is dark, the patio furniture shadowed humps. His face is introspective, the usual vitality missing, and I can see how tired he is. Endof barks and whisks over, wagging his tail and letting Laurie know that I’m here.
He turns a
nd immediately smiles, masking his expression. I frown.
“Feeling better?” he says. “I’ve got rid of Endof’s basket.” His lip twitches. “It was spread rather comprehensively over the flat.”
“Endof is a dog of big statements,” I inform him.
He smiles. “Like his daddy.”
“Laurie,” I warn.
He laughs out loud. “Come on. I’ll make your milk.”
“And one for yourself.”
He raises one eyebrow in question, so I elaborate. “If you’re experimenting on me, I demand to see you drink one first.” His eyes narrow, and I assume an innocent expression. “It’s only sensible. You could be drugging me to have your way with me.”
“I’ve already had my way with you, and it didn’t take any drugs.”
“That is because I am manifestly easy,” I inform him.
For some reason, my statement tickles him. He’s still laughing as he heats milk on the coffee machine. It makes a noise like a steam roller.
I settle myself at the breakfast bar and watch him. He looks at home, but then I’ve come to realise that this is a defining characteristic of his. He’s supremely and quietly confident. Warm and comfortable. Nothing stumps him.
He pours the milk into two mugs and slides one in front of me. “Silky milk,” he says.
“Pardon?”
“We used to call it that when we were kids. It’s the whisking. It makes it feel silky.”
“Do you know what does feel silky?” He raises an eyebrow. “An espresso martini,” I offer.
He dismisses that with an airy wave of his hand and hunts in the cupboard before exclaiming in triumph and withdrawing the tin of biscuits. “Homemade ginger biscuits,” he says. “Lovely.”
He sits himself down at the counter next to me and removes a biscuit before leaning over and dipping it in my milk.
“What are you doing?” I ask, unable to keep the humour from my voice.
“Dunking my biscuit, so it’s soft.” He takes a bite and hums in pleasure, a sound that abruptly recalls the noise he made when I slid my cock into him for the first time. I shift position to relieve the pressure on my dick.
“I can see that,” I say, returning to the conversation as doggedly as Endof keeps trying to murder his bedding. “I’m just unsure why you’re softening your biscuit in my milk.”
He takes another bite. “Crumbs,” he says through a mouthful of biscuit.
“Disgusting,” I say briskly, but it doesn’t entirely cover up my admiration.
He smiles at me. “Drink your milk,” he says, nodding at my cup. “And then to bed with you.”
“It’s nine thirty at night. I am not in an old people’s home or hospital.”
He wrinkles his nose. “And you’re telling me that because?”
“Because that is the only reason to go to bed at that time.” I tsk. “It is a slippery slope, Laurie. Within a few days of early bedtimes, I will be wearing trousers with an elasticated waist and being gratuitously rude to strangers.”
“I think you’re already at the latter stage, and at least you’ll never struggle with buttons.”
I watch him as he sips his drink. For someone so eager to extoll the benefit of an early night, he’s not heeding his own advice.
I move into the second stage of my plan as he puts his empty mug down. I drain my drink. It’s sweet and frothy and smells of cinnamon, and yes, it’s silky, damn him. “Come then,” I say and get to my feet.
“Come where?”
“Bed, of course.”
“Is this a sexual situation?”
I blink. “No.” I grimace apologetically. “I’m afraid I’m far too weary to get an erection tonight, Laurie. I mean, I probably could get one. I just lack the energy to do anything about it.”
“I bet you say that to all your twinks.”
“No.” I sigh happily. “It’s so nice to be friends with you, Laurie, at your age.” It’s the truth concealed in humour. With younger men, I have an image to maintain. I’ve never felt that with Laurie, and it’s one of the best things about being friends with him. I can admit to being tired and not feeling like sex.
He shakes his head. “I’m younger than you.”
“And you’re staying here tonight.”
His eyes are huge in his face. “I am?”
I nod. “Yes,” I say briskly. “I have things I wish to discuss with you about the book you made me buy, and it is Endof’s first night. He has grown tolerant of your presence and wishes you to stay here.”
“And you’re sure that’s Endof’s view?”
“Of course.” I head to my bedroom, aware of him trailing reluctantly behind me.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” he says in a slightly panicked voice that I enjoy far too much. “I don’t sleep well, Mags, and I’ll disturb you.”
“Not at all.” I switch on the lamps on the bedside tables, and the room fills with a warm glow against the dark night outside. “Come on,” I say. I strip off my T-shirt and look down at my shorts. “I usually sleep naked,” I say.
He shakes his head. “I’ve seen the goods, Mags. I’m not afraid to sleep next to your uncovered penis.”
I smile happily and immediately shed my clothes. “I detest wearing anything in bed.” I climb between the sheets and rest against the pillows with a contented sigh. “Come on,” I say as he hesitates.
Endof has no such hesitation and jumps onto the end of the bed. I gesture to the second basket I’d bought at the shop and positioned on the floor at the end of the bed. “Get on your bed,” I command.
He eyes me dubiously, and Laurie smiles. “Poor baby. He just wants to be close to you.”
“Something that you are taking your time about,” I say. “Get undressed. I wish to discuss things with you.”
“You are aware that you’re not a member of the royal family, aren’t you?”
“I lack the prominent ears.” I point at Endof and then the basket. “Get in there,” I say using my courtroom voice, and eventually he slinks off with an aggravated sigh and lies on his bed, staring at me with yearning eyes.
I turn as Laurie slides into bed next to me, getting a glimpse of his long, slender body and the soft length of his cock. My dick twitches, but I will it down. Tonight is about him getting some sleep, so I draw him into conversation, keeping my voice even. I insist on reading the book’s offending passages to him, keeping my voice even and soft, and his eyes start to droop. Within minutes, he’s fast asleep, his long lashes lying on his thin cheeks.
I eye him happily and switch off the lights. I turn on my side, facing him. Beyond him, London spreads out in multicoloured twinkling lights, but I ignore them in favour of sliding closer to him, inhaling his soapy scent and feeling the warmth of his skin. I exhale slowly, and my eyes slide closed. A few seconds later, the bed depresses, and Endof surreptitiously joins us.
“Just tonight,” I whisper. As he curls into the curve of my knees, I slide my arm over Laurie’s waist and slip into sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
Two Weeks Later
Mags
I lean back against the hotel lift wall with a weary sigh. We seem to have been in Nottingham for two years rather than two weeks.
“It’s going well, sir.”
I squint at my pupil. “You think so, Sean?”
He wrinkles his nose, and I have a flash of Laurie doing the same. “Well, as long as we can keep Mr Pinton from mounting his own defence, we should be fine.”
“If he does that, his personality will make defending Hitler an easy prospect.”
He snorts. “Mr Pinton is a bit abrasive.”
“I’ve known scouring pads with better personalities.” He laughs, and I shift my rucksack on my back to a more comfortable position. “You have been a great help, Sean.”
He flushes. “Really? Thank you, sir.”
“It’s Magnus. I’ve told you that. You have been helpful. You have a very good legal brain. You’ll
do well.”
“Thank you. That means a lot,” he says softly.
I seek a way to break the moment, and Endof provides the perfect one by groaning at my feet. “Did Miriam say Endof behaved better today?”
His lip twitches. “She said he was adequate.”
“Ack, I’m afraid that’s the limit of what we can ask of the wretched creature.”
“Apparently, it’s not the chewing so much. It’s more the constant howling. He’s very attached to you.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m sure he is. I’m quite possibly the only person in the United Kingdom who is stupid enough to keep him.”
“I think you’re just as attached. Miriam said she’d never heard anything like being asked to look after a QC’s dog.”
“She should branch out more.”
He chuckles. “I think she secretly likes him. She bought him more toys to play with.”
“Had she rubbed them with arsenic before she gave them to him?”
The lift doors open as he bursts into laughter, and I click my tongue at the dog. “Come along, you wretched creature.”
“Mags, is that any way to talk to your colleagues?”
The warm, familiar voice comes from the chairs by the lift, and I spin around, almost overbalancing in the process. “Laurie,” I gasp.
“’Tis me,” he says lightly as Endof gives a happy bark and rushes to greet him. Laurie bends down to pat him.
“What are you doing here?”
“I thought I’d check and see how Endof is coping with you.”
Sean’s snort of laughter reminds me that we have a witness.
“Sean, this is Laurie. He is a piss-taking fool. Laurie, this is Sean, my pupil.”
“You have my deepest sympathies,” Laurie says, a smile tugging at his lips. There are dark shadows under his eyes, and although it might be my imagination, he looks even thinner. His khaki shorts hang from his hips, and the yellow T-shirt’s stretched neck shows his prominent collarbone. I frown.
