Three
Big Fucking Mug
Clasping a mug of stewed tea between ice-cold hands, Josh gazed out of his ground floor bedsit window at the small garden beyond. It was the only bedsit in the block with access to a garden and he loved it. The patch of grass needed a bit of a trim, but after a prolonged rainy spell it was much too damp to run the mower over it and likely to remain so, barring a Barbados style heat wave, unlikely in England in late November.
The gnarled and decrepit apple tree was naked, its leaves strewn about the wet grass or mouldering in sodden, ugly heaps in the bedraggled border along the back of the fence. The few sour apples the tree had produced were long gone, eaten by the fat grey squirrel that pinched all the nuts and scraps Josh put out for the birds. The bloody thing was the Billy Bunter of the tree rodent world. It would eat anything. If it got any fatter it wouldn’t be able to climb up the apple tree, not without aid of a chair lift.
Josh sighed. He really ought to get outside and tidy things up a bit, get rid of the frost-blackened bedding plants at least, but what was the point. Let them rot. They would feed the soil, and as for the grass, sod it, the bloody stuff had never grown as lush and green as he would have wished, despite him feeding and tending it every week during the summer months.
‘You’re wasting your time, you idiot,’ his boyfriend had told him. ‘This piece of tatty scrub you call a garden is too north facing to grow a proper lawn.’
Still, at least Josh had tried. All Phil ever did in the garden was lounge half naked in a deckchair topping up his expensive salon tan, while smoking Hamlet cigars, drinking iced champagne and waiting for his agent to call him with news about auditions. Not that Josh had minded at the time. He liked seeing Phil in the garden as he pottered about weeding, feeding and planting. It was nice to have such fine eye candy as a companion under the summer sun.
Turning away from the window, Josh took his mug over to the sink and sluiced away the remains of the tea. It had left a thick brown stain around the inside of the mug. He grimaced. It reminded him of a limescale encrusted public lavatory bowl. Like limescale, tea tannin was a swine to remove, especially from cheap pottery. A mini wave of anger overcame him.
Marching across to the bin he rammed his foot on the pedal, flipped the lid and prepared to ditch the mug. Confession time. He’d never liked it. It was too big, heavy and clumsy, ugly in fact. It had been a gift from Phil, the only thing he had ever given him. It bore the legend ‘Big Fucking Mug’ in blood red letters. A romantic gift it was not. Josh stared at the letters.
Before he knew it the mug was gone from his hand, but not into the bin. It hit the wall above the cooker, spitting out sharp shards of pottery, leaving a deep dent in the cream emulsioned wall.
“You fucking, fucking idiot! Moron! Why did you do that?” Josh cursed aloud. He ran both hands through his short reddish-brown hair, spiking it. Not only would he have to clean up the bits, he’d have to fill the dent in the wall and paint over it or face the wrath of his landlord on his pending tour of inspection prior to a discussion about rent arrears. He’d lose the bond.
He glanced at the kitchen clock. Time was moving on. He had to go to work. His stomach clenched at the thought. He’d missed a full week. His boss, James, had run out of patience. Josh grimaced, recalling the scolding he’d been given. James’s final words sounded in his mind: ‘I don’t know what’s going on with you, kid, and I’m not discussing it over the phone, but you’d better pull your socks up. I’m only willing to be taken advantage of for so long. Come in to work on Monday or….’
Josh hadn’t given him chance to expand on the ‘or’ bit, he’d ended the call, not from rudeness as such, but because a text had pinged its arrival and he was eager to read it. Not that it was worth reading. It was from Virgin Mobile telling him his credit was low and he needed to top up. Josh suddenly blushed. When he thought about it, he’d been a shit where James was concerned. It was time to go back and face the music, and probably the sack.
Trawling to the bathroom, Josh swilled cold water over his face, shoved a toothbrush around his mouth and flashed deodorant under both arms prior to getting dressed. He turned on the radio for company. It was the only gadget he had left, apart from his precious mobile phone.
A lone blue sock and a premature Christmas song on the radio proved his undoing. The song was ‘Last Christmas’ by Wham and the sock was the only item left in his underpants and sock drawer, the rest of his smalls being in the overflowing laundry basket, only it wasn’t his sock. It was Phil’s. Its partner was probably tucked up warm and cosy in the underwear drawer of the new bloke Phil had moved in with, whatsisname - Ben, Len, or some such - a long-faced skinny blonde with a bad case of strabismus. Josh had seen him when he had come to help Phil with his cases the day he moved out. He’d thought he knew him from somewhere else, but couldn’t place him. Not that it mattered where he knew him from. He had Phil and that was that.
Curling on the bed, Josh pressed the item of footwear to his eyes, sobbing into its cashmere fibres. Christmas was looming on the horizon and it looked like he’d be spending it alone again. When he’d met Phil he’d thought lonely nights and solitary festive occasions were behind him at last. Seemed he was wrong.
The sound of the brass knocker on front door being hammered up and down made Josh sit up, a look of alarm on his plain freckled face. Not the landlord surely, not at this time in the morning. He’d have to try and keep him out of the pottery-strewn kitchen. Oh god, Josh closed his eyes, uttering a silent prayer, please let him be agreeable about the rent arrears. He’d pay them off as soon as he could. Maybe get a payday loan.
The knocker hammered again. Flinging aside the soggy sock, Josh grabbed his specs from the bedside table, rammed them on and hurried to the door.
Four
Agony Aunt
The coffee lounge day soon got underway. The door was unlocked prompt at nine to admit the early bird customers already waiting outside. The coffee machine was stoked and primed ready to grind beans and brew coffee in its rumbling depths. A range of fresh, warm scones resided under clear domed canopies along with a selection of other delicious bakes from the hands of the magical Bea. The homemade soup of the day was written up on the specials board - Minestrone served with thick slices of fresh baked focaccia bread. Lovely! Just right for a cold wintry day.
Customers came and went, read and chatted, ate and drank. It being a Monday, things weren’t too hectic, so James and Bea weren’t too exhausted when the coffee lounge door was closed and locked again at half past five on the dot.
Drawing down the door blind, James turned to Bea with a sigh of relief. “Well, that’s Monday done with. Fancy a cuppa, or do you want to get straight off?”
“Gina’s at her new Zumba class tonight, so yeah, a cuppa would be nice. Lead on MacDuff.”
James picked up a stray cup and plate from a table and led the way into the kitchen.
A cuppa turned into a light meal of soup followed by slices of rich coffee and cardamom cake and mugs of Chai latte.
“God, Bea,” James pushed his empty plate away. “That cake is divine. No wonder Mrs Begsby from the wool shop bought two slices in succession at lunchtime and another one to take away. I can see why Gina opted to take Zumba classes. I would too if I lived with you, otherwise I’d be like a house end.”
Bea grinned. “Skinniness is overrated in my opinion. Bring back the Rubenesque is what I say. Curves and slopes are much nicer than angles and edges.”
“Slopes are one thing, mountain ranges quite another.”
“I don’t think you need worry, Jims. You have a lovely figure, for a bloke.”
“Why, thank you, kind lady, I think.”
Bea turned the conversation to business matters. “Are you putting up decs in the shop this year? Time is moving on. It’s December tomorrow.”
“I’ll do it prior to officially launching Christmas Kisses. I want to take some photos and have them blown up as advertising pos
ters. Get them stuck in the windows. We’ll offer a free mince pie or scone as part of the opening offer. Are you sure it isn’t too early?”
“Some places have been doing Christmas since before Halloween, so no I don’t think it’s too early. If you leave it any longer you’ll have to call them Easter Kisses.”
“True. You’ve got to catch the market when demand is highest.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, finishing off their spicy Chai tea. It was Bea who addressed the elephant in the room.
“He needs a good kick up the arse.”
“Who does?”
“Our Joshua of course, who else. What are you going to do about him? Not coming in today is just taking the piss.”
“What can I do? He’s an employee, not a slave. I can’t force him to come to work. The caveman approach to staff is out of vogue. You’re not allowed to cosh them on the head and drag them into work by their hair.”
“Then sack him and get someone else to help in the lounge. God knows we’ll need it during the run up to Christmas. Look at last Saturday, we were rushed off our feet.”
“It was tiring,” admitted James. “I was truly grateful for your help, Bea. I couldn’t have managed without you front of shop.”
“I know,” said Bea, with a grin and a wink, “and I expect a Christmas bonus so large I’ll need a barrow to wheel it home.”
“I’ll give you a bunch of flowers and a year’s supply of your favourite Thornton’s toffee, how does that sound?”
“Perfect.” Bea smacked her lips and then continued. “You know, Jims, most employers would have sacked Josh weeks ago for pissing them about, turning up late, turning up surly and then not turning up at all.”
“I guess so.”
“Only, you’re not most employers. You’re the soft hearted bloke who took on a scruffy little stray, and fell in love with it.”
“Don’t talk such rot, Bea.” Unaccustomed warmth came to James’s face. He wasn’t normally one of life’s blushers.
“It’s the truth. You wouldn’t put up with this shit otherwise.”
“He’s a nice lad when he’s on form, and a good worker.”
“He’s changed lately. I can’t remember the last time I saw a smile on his face. Mark my words his idiot boyfriend is behind all this. He’s no good for Josh. Love is supposed to make you feel happy and carefree, not anxious and careworn. Poor little bugger looks like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders some days”
“The glitter does seem to have worn off the relationship.”
“That’s the trouble with glitter. It soon blows away.” Bea pushed crumbs around her plate with her cake fork, her face telling a tale of words to be said that could wait no longer. She cleared her throat. “You know Josh likes you, don’t you, Jims? He has from the off. In fact he more than likes you. I’m sure of it. He was forever flirting with you at one time.”
“Rubbish.”
“Not rubbish. It’s a fact. A blind man could have seen it. You never offered so much as a hint of encouragement though. It’s no wonder he took up with that feckless freeloader that calls himself an actor. Gina reckons she saw him in a play at the local rep theatre once. She said he was more wooden than a brush shank and his voice doesn’t match his looks.”
“Why on earth would I encourage Josh? He’s twenty-three years old and I’m forty.”
“Only just, you’ve barely dipped your toes in your fourth decade yet. I know Josh looks like he’s just popped up out of the baptismal font, but he’ll be twenty-four soon.”
“Next March.”
“So, it’s hardly an insurmountable age gap, more June to November than May to December. And besides, when did age difference ever matter in gay relationships? I’m older than Gina.”
“By six years, Bea, not sixteen.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said stubbornly. “What are you scared of, being happy? It is legal to be happy you know, even for gay men these days.”
“I am happy. My life is fine as it is. I’m thinking of getting a cat after Christmas.”
“You can’t bed and snog a bloody cat and anyway, I’m the pussy lover around here. You need a man, not a moggy. We all need someone to love. Why do you think Josh took up with that fake actor prick? He needed someone to love, and seeing as you didn’t offer so much as a peck on the cheek he looked elsewhere.”
“Look, Bea, if Josh felt anything for me at all, then it was no more than a puppy love, a crush on someone who picked him up when he was down. It happens, and no way would I ever take advantage of it. It would be inappropriate. He’s better off with someone closer to his own age and let’s be honest, Phil is one hell of a looker.”
“And doesn’t he know it. I don’t like him. He’s a user. Men like him always are. They use their looks to manipulate others. Josh hasn’t been the same since he met him, and why? Because he doesn’t need a shallow, high maintenance beauty queen in his life. He needs someone who will respect and take care of him, someone like you. He needs security and order rather than good looks, firm abs and tight buns.”
“Oh thank you, what are you saying, I look like chopped liver?”
“You can’t be chopped liver; you’re not Jewish, though granted you do have the nose.”
“Are you suggesting all Jews have big noses?”
“No of course not, and I’m not discussing racial stereotypes with you, I’m discussing Josh, and it was you who brought up the chopped liver.”
James reached to pat her hand. “I know you mean well, but Josh isn’t interested in me, you just want him to be. You’ve been trying to partner me off for years. And my only interest in Josh is as his employer and his friend of course.”
“So you say. If that’s the way you want to play it then fine. Do something about your absent employee. Call him again, ask him what the heck he’s playing at.”
“He was supposed to come in today and explain himself. It is not up to me to continually chase him. He cut me off mid sentence on Saturday. Did I tell you? I’ll have something to say to him about that as well as everything else, if I ever set eyes on him again.”
“You should have gone round to his flat and asked him face to face why he wasn’t at work.”
“You can’t invade your employee’s private space, Bea. It isn’t ethical.”
“Bollocks to ethical.” Bea waved her cake fork. “Know what? I reckon Phil the feckless might have finished with him and that’s why he hasn’t been in. Some kids take it hard when they’re dumped. Your phone calls kept going to voicemail last week, which suggests the only voice Josh wanted to hear was the lover boy, not the boss man. Some kids have to cry rejection out of their system.”
“The thought had crossed my mind, but when all is said and done his love life isn’t my business. I have no right to interfere.”
“You could make it your business, as a friend if nothing else, and you’ve already interfered in his life, you did it the day you picked him up, dusted him down and gave him a job in the coffee lounge.”
“I did what anyone would do, nothing more.”
“Not everyone would give an intruder a job or help them find a place to live. You saw something in him.”
“I saw a young man who needed a helping hand, that’s all, and he was hardly an intruder. You make it sound like he broke into the shop with intent to rob. He sneaked a kip on a sofa to get out of the cold after losing out on a place in a hostel.”
“You can kid yourself, but not me. You’ve always been a sucker for the waif type. I’ve seen the way you look at him, like you want to eat him all up. Take a chance, have a nibble. Go with your heart instead of your head for once in your life.”
James tried some blatant distraction. “Do you think I ought to start playing Christmas music in the lounge?”
Bea refused to be sidetracked. “If Josh is suffering what he thinks is a broken heart then he’ll need some TLC, in the form of a boot up the arse, or a cuddle, your choice. Sort the daft l
ittle sod out sooner rather than later. You know you want to. Do that or send on his P45 and let us all move on.”
“You’d miss him. You think the world of him.”
“Course I do, he’s one of our own. Regardless, I wouldn’t let him muck me about the way he’s mucking you about. Grow some balls and take charge of the situation.”
“Well, that’s me told.”
“Dam right you’re told and now I’m going home. My job as an agony aunt is done. I have fruitcakes to ice and decorate. I’ll bring them in tomorrow, along with another coffee and cardamom cake. I’ve got one in the freezer at home.”
“We could do with another lemon drizzle, I sold the last slice this afternoon.”
“I’ll bake one tomorrow, first thing.”
“Thanks, Bea. You’re an angel.”
“I’m bloody expensive, wait until you see the bill.”
“You’re worth every penny.” Chuckling, James retrieved her jacket and helped her into it before setting her cap on her cap and waving her on her way.
Five
Careful What You Wish For
It was what he had wanted and wished for, ever since Phil had walked out on him to take up residence with skinny blonde boy. Wasn’t it? Sitting on the battered, but comfy leather armchair James had given him when he was furnishing his little bedsit, Josh surveyed the Adonis sprawled on the equally battered leather sofa in the living area.
Raising his left hand to his mouth Josh chewed at his already well-chewed nails. It was what he wanted, wasn’t it? The return of the man he’d been madly in love with for months? His heart had seemed to say so when he unlocked his door and saw Phil standing there, suitcase in hand. It had almost leapt out of his chest.
Phil was a dreamboat by anyone’s standards. He was drop dead gorgeous with his buff physique, raven black hair and sea-green eyes. Josh had almost died and gone to heaven when he had first asked him out. Gays who wore glasses seldom got passes from men like Phillip Lancaster. At first Josh had wondered if Phil was, you know, taking the piss, because he’d noticed Josh blushing every time he served his order of mocha latte. But no, he was serious, apparently. This urban god wanted to take Josh out, the coffee shop waiter with the sweetest smile he had ever seen, or so he said.
Christmas Kisses Page 2
