Veering off Course (The Navigation Quartet Book 1)

by Chris Cheek

  “I’ll have you know that my Auntie Mary had taught me to do a very fine boiled egg, David Edgeley. I could scramble them as well.”

  David sniggered. “Well, you certainly know how to scramble mine.”

  Alan puffed himself with pretend indignation. “I don’t know. Insults my culinary skills and then utters such filth in my kitchen.”

  “Oh, who’s getting all hoity-toity then? Got our knickers in a twist, have we?”

  Unable to maintain his indignation, Alan burst out laughing. “You’re impossible.”

  David beamed at him. “Yes, aren’t I? Always was. But you still haven’t answered my question.”

  “I did have a brief fling with a chef not long after I came to London. He was a nice guy and taught me a lot – above all, the importance of good, fresh ingredients.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Yeah, he was,” Alan replied a little wistfully.

  “What happened?”

  “He went back to France. He’d been over here for a year’s traineeship and went back to help in his parents’ restaurant in Bordeaux. We kept in touch for a while but drifted apart. You know how it is.”

  “Actually I don’t, Al. Know, that is. Which is rather the point, isn’t it? One rather insipid marriage and a now an affair with my oldest friend. Circle of friends? Zero. Sexual experience limited to those two. Hardly qualifies me as the Casanova of Sedgethwaite, does it?”

  Alan laughed, though he felt slightly uneasy at David’s tone. “No, s’pose not. Still, I think you’re sexy, so why worry about all the others? Much too complicated, I’d have thought.”

  David shook his head as if to clear it. He looked up at Alan. “I’m sorry about dragging the mood down a notch or two. I don’t know why that stuff popped into my head.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Davy. You must always – and I mean always – tell me what you’re thinking and what you’re worried about.”

  David grinned. “Alan?” he said. “I’m worried. About everything.” But as he spoke, his face fell; what had started out as a flippant remark suddenly turned serious. “Come to think of it, I’m not joking, either.”

  Alan moved and took David into his arms. “I know, Davy, I know.”

  David relaxed into the embrace and closed his eyes, letting out a big breath. So long as he was here, in this flat and in these arms, he felt safe. But deep down, he knew it was an illusion.

  Chapter 20

  Alan

  “We should talk,” Alan said, as he put the pasta in the pan. It was a Thursday night towards the end of May, and he and David were in the kitchen of the Clapham flat. David had arrived at his normal time and Alan had their supper all planned out.

  Somehow, though, their greetings had become protracted again and they had ended up in bed. Having cleaned up and showered, Alan was now cooking their supper somewhat later than originally scheduled. “Sorry it’s more pasta, by the way, but I know you like it. And this one’s a bit different, made with chicken and mushrooms.”

  “Sound great. And yes, I agree. We should talk.”

  “Can I start?” asked Alan. “I thought it might help if I lay my cards on the table.”

  David’s heart sank. What on earth does that mean? Does he not want to see me any more? But he spoke in a neutral tone. “Okay…”

  “Don’t look so worried, Davy. When we bumped into each other the day Auntie Mary died, you said that you’d made a decision. You couldn’t ignore the fact that you might be bi or even gay. I told you how much I’d missed you. Remember?”

  David nodded vigorously. “Oh yes, I certainly do. Remember, I mean.”

  “To be honest, my comment sort of slipped out – the thought wasn’t fully formed until the words were out, if you know what I mean. I’ve been doing a lot of hard thinking ever since, particularly since you started to come and stay. I so enjoy having you here. That first night, after supper … lying in bed holding you … that was the best thing ever, if you know what I mean…” Alan’s voice trembled slightly.

  David nodded in reply. “Me too. Mind you, we’ve had our moments since as well.”

  “Absolutely. But,” Alan continued, taking a deep breath, “the thing is that I’ve come to realise just how deep this goes. Not to put too fine a point on it, I love you, David Edgeley...”

  He watched for David’s reaction. David’s eyes widened and moistened a little. He licked his lips nervously. “I see. Go on.” He waited for Alan to continue, raising his wine glass to his lips, further betraying his nerves with a slight trembling of the hand.

  “The thing is, I’ve also realised that I’ve probably loved you since we first met at junior school all those years ago. That means, if it’s possible, and if you want it too, I’d quite like to spend the rest of my life with you.” The last few words came out in a rush. Having got them out, Alan squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly unable to watch for David’s reaction.

  “Christ, Al,” David replied quietly, awestruck by the declaration. “I mean, thanks. I don’t think anybody’s ever said anything as nice as that to me.” He looked down at the table and shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know what to say.” There was a pause before he looked at Alan. “I love you too. Like you, I realise that I probably always have done – I was just too frightened to act. After all, what did we know about all this stuff?” He laughed. “I mean, two ordinary Yorkshire lads.”

  Alan nodded. “I know what you mean.”

  “I did mean what I said the other week,” David continued. “About accepting everything and dealing with the consequences. When we – I – am here, everything reinforces my decision. This wonderful flat, your lifestyle, the food, the wine, even the coffee... And well … you.” He shrugged. “It’s that simple. I could no more go back to my old life than fly to the moon.”

  “Thanks, Davy. That’s what I hoped you’d say.”

  “Mind you, I’m not saying that I’ve got beyond that,” David added with a bark of laughter. “As I said in Sedgethwaite that day, I know what I want to do with my life but I still don’t know how to get from here to there.”

  The buzz of the timer told Alan that the pasta was cooked. He broke off to drain it and assemble their meal. “Let’s finish this after supper,” he said over his shoulder.

  ***

  After supper, they moved upstairs to the sitting room and sat entwined together on the sofa.

  “Talk to me, Davy.”

  “That’s part of the problem, I suppose. I rather got out of the habit of talking about my feelings, personal stuff, after you left home. There was nobody to say it to. So I shut it down.”

  Alan nodded. He was beginning to understand David’s loneliness and fear. “Tell me how you feel and what you want to do. Then I can help.”

  “The first thing, I suppose, is that now I feel like a stranger in my own home.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t share Mona’s dreams any more.”

  “But that’s not what’s important, surely?”

  “Oh, it is, I think. You see, right from when we were kids, Mona and I used to talk about our dreams for the future, about what would happen to us and our friends. About growing up and leaving the town – all sorts of things. Then, when we got married, we started to dream again – the kids, buying our own house, me getting promoted. Over the past few months, everything has changed. I realised that I didn’t want to buy a house, at least not in Sedgethwaite. I don’t want to stay in the town either, and I don’t want to be with Mona. And now I know I want to be with you.”

  “I understand how you feel. I reached the same conclusions about Sedgethwaite before I came south.”

  “Yes, but you didn’t have a wife and two children.”

  “No, but I was entering a completely different world, leaving everything I’d ever known behind me – including my best pal ever.”

  “But you were always the more adventurous one, leaving me behind to pluck up the courage to follow you.”

/>   “I wouldn’t deny that, Davy. But you were always the brightest one at school, nearly top of the class. I can’t see why you stayed on the buses.”

  “Oh, that’s easy. It was safe – paid well, no fear of failure, no challenge. But it’s beginning to catch up with me now. I feel that I can’t go on doing this for the rest of my life, but I’m terrified that I will.”

  “Anyway, this is all a bit beside the point. The main thing I was saying is that I understand a bit of how you feel.”

  “I know you do. Sometimes the thought of all the upheaval and the trouble it would cause to leave is just too scary. I feel so lonely up there – and that’s the other problem. I realised the other day that this was the first time in my life where I can’t discuss an issue with my family or friends – other than you, but you’re two hundred miles away most of the time. I can’t talk to Mona about this, or my mum and dad, or my brother and sister. Then I go to work and I sit in the canteen and listen to them. It’s all sex, football and how many pints they managed to down last night.”

  “But I bet that would be the same in a London depot canteen as well. It’s not a Yorkshire thing.”

  “True. But I’ve lived with it in Sedgethwaite for six years and more, and it never bothered me. Now I feel like a stranger there.”

  Alan tightened his grip round David’s shoulders to show he understood and kissed his temple. “Go on, Davy.”

  “It’s got even more complicated over the past few weeks. I came here to stay with you and got a glimpse of a whole other world. This flat, the food, everything ... well, you know how far you’ve come. And for the future? You already know that I want you. But even if I couldn’t have you, I’d want this life or something like it.”

  There was silence between them for a moment, then Alan sighed and spoke. “I get that, Davy – our feelings and your aspirations. No matter what happens over the next few weeks or months, we mustn’t lose sight of them. But it’s the boys, isn’t it? They’re the real problem.”

  “Hell, aye. If we hadn’t had the kids, I’d be packing up and moving down tomorrow. Mona would be upset, obviously, but I think she’d survive. And besides, she’d be better off finding somebody else than sticking in a stone-cold marriage.” David moved within Alan’s embrace. “But number one, I can’t just walk out and leave her with the two boys. And number two, I can’t bear the thought of never seeing them again.”

  “I know, Davy. I know. It’s why I wanted to have this talk tonight. I need you to know where you stand with my feelings. Now it’s in your hands. We move at your pace, in your time. But what do you think could happen? Would she really try to cut you out completely?”

  “I don’t know, Al. Plenty of women do – hence that group Fathers for Justice. Maybe she’d allow me to see them, maybe not. It’d depend on how she felt about me – us – once she’d found out.”

  “Well, she certainly never approved of me,” Alan responded with a laugh.

  “And her mother never approved of me, neither. That’d be the problem, I think. The old bat would take great delight in painting me as a monster to anybody who’d listen.”

  “You should talk to your Jen. She’d be okay with all this, you know. She loves you to bits and was always very good to me.”

  “Do you think so? I’d not thought of that. I think you might be right.”

  “So think on. No need to hurry matters – but you know that might the best way to dip a toe in the water.”

  Chapter 21

  David

  The sun streamed through the opened curtains. David blinked and woke up to find Alan looking down at him.

  “I brought you some tea. It’s time we were moving, old lad.’

  “Don’t I get a good morning kiss, then?”

  “Of course you do. Anything to oblige,” Alan replied, complying immediately.

  David sat up to drink his tea. “Lovely day again,” he said.

  “Yeah, much too nice to work – or to wear a suit,” Alan replied, as he donned his office outfit.

  “Mind you, you do look sexy when you’re all dressed up,” David grinned.

  It was mid-June; this was David’s sixth overnight stay in London. They’d quickly established a pattern for their time together, usually spending quiet evenings in the flat. Alan had been working on an informal programme of gradual education about gay life, providing David with written materials – newspapers and magazines, information leaflets produced by campaign groups and a couple of novels.

  David had devoured these enthusiastically and, in the process, come to realise that he was not alone. The issues that he and Alan were facing if they wanted a life together were not unique; counselling and support were available if they needed them. But making that first move was still the impossible bit. How would he get the words out?

  “Time’s getting on, young Davy. Time you were up,” Alan said. “Especially if you want some breakfast.”

  David headed for the bathroom, pausing to brush Alan’s lips with his own on the way, earning himself a slap on the backside for his pains. Time was indeed getting on, so neither had time to look at the paper, or read the story below the headline Yorkshire Rail Chaos.

  The coach station was crammed when David pulled in but he managed to leave on time with a full load. The journey north was uneventful and they reached Sedgethwaite dead on time. It was there that the full effect of the lightning strike by rail crews became apparent: the queue was three-deep on the London stand, and took up nearly half the bus-station concourse. As David unloaded, three coaches from independent operators pulled in and cleared much of the queue, but there were still about forty people standing there.

  He said farewell to the last of his passengers and got behind the wheel, ready to take his coach back to the depot. As he reached for the starter, Len Hedges’ head appeared at the cab window. “Well, if it isn’t young Edgeley,” he remarked.

  “Hello, Len. How’s tha’ doin’?”

  “Fine, fine,” Len replied. “Better still if I could get this London queue shifted.”

  “Aye, it’s bad, this rail business.”

  “I don’t know as I’d call it bad, especially from our point of view. But I know what you mean.”

  “You stuck, then?”

  Len nodded. “Aye. I think every coach in Yorkshire’s out – and a good few from other counties as well.”

  “Does that mean you’re looking for volunteers?”

  Len grinned. “One’d do.”

  “Thought so. If my hours’ll be okay.”

  “You should make it, but it might be close.”

  “Right. Well, this coach will want a quick clean and probably some fuel as well.”

  “You leave that to me, lad. Go and phone Mona and get yourself some snap.”

  ***

  When he eventually got back to London, it was nearly eight o’clock. The traffic had been hell but forty grateful customers had made the journey worthwhile, netting him nearly half a week’s wages in extra tips. After unloading, he sought advice about parking and was told to leave the vehicle where it was; the coach park was already full and, in any case, David was out of hours now and it would be illegal to drive any further.

  He got out his mobile and dialled Alan’s number to seek a bed for the night. To the extent that he’d been able to think ahead before setting off, he had assumed that he would be okay to sleep at the flat; indeed, the prospect of spending another night in Alan’s arms had been a pretty powerful incentive for him to volunteer in the first place. It had not occurred to him that his call would go straight to voicemail or that Alan might be out.

  Momentarily flummoxed, he left a message and decided to get some food. He tried again later but his call went straight to voicemail again. He decided to chance his arm and head over to Clapham. He might not know much about London yet, but at least he knew the way to Alan’s place.

  ***

  There was no light on in the front room of Alan’s top-floor flat when David got ther
e. It was getting on for ten now, and he didn’t know what he would do – go and get a hotel room somewhere, he supposed. But that might be difficult, as well as expensive.

  He rang Alan’s bell once more, but there was still no reply. However, the curtains moved in the ground-floor flat and a face appeared. A hand gestured towards the entrance, then the face disappeared again. A moment later, the hall light clicked on and a figure approached the front door.

  David was greeted by a blond young man, about his own height, with a slim body; definitely a man, but with a touch of femininity about him. David had never come across anybody quite like him – George, the rather camp young clerk in his depot, was the nearest equivalent.

  “Hello,” said the young man, looking him up and down. “Were you after Alan Foreshaw? I heard his bell going.”

  “Yes, I was. I’m…”

  “Oh, I know who you are!” the man exclaimed. “You’re his hot young coach driver. Davy, isn’t it?”

  David was completely thrown. So far as he knew, his relationship with Alan was a secret between the two of them. He felt himself blushing.

  “Sorry, that was a bit frank, wasn’t it? Anyway, do come in. Alan’s having a boys’ night out with my other half. They should be back soon. I’m Simon, by the way.”

  “Oh, er … thanks, Simon. Nice to meet you. I’m David. Al – I mean Alan, sorry – calls me Davy. It’s a sort of joke, I suppose – dates back to my passion for Davy Crockett when I was little.”

  Simon laughed, “Wonderful! I know exactly what you mean – that lovely fur hat and the manly passion for his sidekick – what was he called?”

  David relaxed a little. “George Russell, wasn’t it?”

  “So what brings you back to London so quickly? Alan said earlier that he wouldn’t see you until next week.”

  “There’s a rail strike on our route,” David explained. “When I got back to Yorkshire at dinner time there was a huge queue trying to get to London, so I volunteered to help out.”

  “That was nice. Well done you!”

  David blushed again. “Yeah, well, I thought I should do my bit, you know. Anyway, I’ll get overtime and the tips were pretty good.” He grinned. “Having a coachload of grateful people is a nice little earner.”