Mr Sawhney took a step away, but Scott realised he hadn’t introduced Edward – who was probably feeling snubbed after what had just happened.
Scott called after him. “And this is Harry’s friend, Edward.”
Realising his manners, Mr Sawhney turned back and absent-mindedly thrust his hand out for Edward. Scott opened his mouth to explain that Edward was Paul’s apprentice. But a sense of dread crept over him as Mr Sawhney looked at Edward properly and jolted in shock.
“You?” Mr Sawhney whispered.
Scott saw that Edward was staring at Mr Sawhney as if he’d seen a mass murderer. “Yes, me.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m Harry’s friend.”
Scott’s heart thumped with worry. “What’s wrong, Edward? Do you know Mr Sawhney?”
“I do. Intimately, in fact. He was my first client. We struck up quite a relationship over those few weeks, didn’t we? After you’d convinced me to give it up for you.”
Mr Sawhney’s eyes welled with anger. He shoved Edward in the chest, making him stumble. “You leave here now.”
“Hey, get your fucking hands off!”
Scott stepped between them. “Stop it! Let’s go somewhere and talk, okay?”
Edward glared at Scott as if this was somehow his fault. Then he nodded slowly.
Mr Sawhney strode robot-like towards the house and they followed. He led them to a plush reception room, which looked as if it was used rarely, but it was kept immaculate nonetheless. It was eerily silent in here and Scott suddenly felt anxious. Mr Sawhney might be a master criminal with body guards and hit-men lurking, waiting to take out unsuspecting homosexuals.
Scott snapped himself out of it – but he double-checked that his phone was in his pocket, just in case. He sat down with Edward on one of the huge cream sofas, trying to control his shaking knees. Poor Edward looked angry and deflated. Mr Sawhney sat on the opposite sofa, draping his arm across it possessively. Scott knew that by sitting next to Edward his actions spoke volumes about whose side he was on, but the poor kid looked as if he’d been punched in the face.
Mr Sawhney lounged back, seeming to take up all the space. He rested his foot on his opposite thigh and jiggled it. Somehow he reminded Scott of an arms dealer – not that he’d ever met one.
Mr Sawhney remained super-cool. “Listen, I’ll give you money to go away. I don’t want you in my son’s life. Especially not with what you do for money. It’s disgusting.”
Scott opened his mouth to mediate, but Edward got in there first.
“Oh, so you don’t mind me sucking your cock, but you don’t want it for Harry – is that it?”
“I don’t care what he does, as long as he’s discreet. Bringing you here, that’s not discreet. Big mistake. Especially not at his engagement party.”
Edward’s jaw dropped. “Engagement party? He said this gathering was to celebrate him going off to university.”
Mr Sawhney shrugged. “It’s whatever we choose it to be. But you’re not welcome.”
Scott leaned forward, hoping to appeal. “Look, Mr Sawhney, these two young men, they really like each other, and –”
“No! There’s no ‘really liking each other’ allowed between young men in this household. And you, Scott, I recommend you keep quiet about this if you want to continue with your job at the art gallery. I’ll get you fired.”
This threat thumped Scott hard. He started to argue, but Mr Sawhney talked over him, turning his anger on Edward. “What kind of life can you give my son, huh? You’ll soon grow bored of each other and this will all be forgotten.”
“Oh, like you grew bored of me?”
“Stop this. What happened between you and me has nothing to do with anything. This is about family honour – something you’d know nothing about.”
“Family honour? I assume your wife doesn’t know you’ve been fucking teenage boys behind her back?”
Mr Sawhney’s expression surged to worry. “You told me you were twenty.”
“I’m nineteen. One year older than your son. How does that make you feel?”
Mr Sawhney’s expression didn’t flicker. His silence was stifling.
Edward leaned forward, making the leather sofa creak. “Why do people always make prostitutes feel bad, but not the sleazy men like you, who think you can buy our souls with your dirty money? How about making you feel bad for a while?”
“I was simply following my natural urges. One man can’t give himself to one woman forever.”
Scott interjected. “I’ve never been unfaithful to Paul.”
“So you say.”
Scott inhaled to defend himself, but Edward stood up suddenly. “How about you release Harry from this sham engagement, or I’ll tell everyone about what you and I did together?”
Mr Sawhney’s demeanour remained poker cool. “You think anyone would believe you?”
“Let’s find out.” Edward surged towards the door. Scott stood to grab him – he knew this wasn’t the way to resolve things. But Edward shrugged him away and spurted onwards.
Mr Sawhney got to his feet. “Edward, you tell a soul about our former relationship, and I will cut Harry completely off.”
Edward halted by the door and turned to face him. “Yeah, you probably would do that to your son wouldn’t you? Now you’ve shafted me, you’re gonna shaft him too!”
Mr Sawhney coolly slung his hand to his hip, but Edward didn’t stick around for an answer. He ripped open the door and rushed out to the hallway.
Scott ran after him. “Edward, wait! Don’t do this – you’ll just end up making things worse.”
But he wasn’t listening. He propelled himself down the hallway and pushed past a few finely-dressed guests who were loitering inside. Scott reached out and grabbed Edward’s arm again, but he shook him away. Scott continued trying to talk him out of it, as they rushed into the garden with Mr Sawhney hot on their heels. Scott glanced back and saw he was trying to be calm, but he was clearly starting to panic – what if Edward was really planning on doing this? Scott spotted Harry inside a lavish marquee in the middle of the lawn, making small talk with a couple of older women. Edward had spotted him too and was locked onto his trajectory. Scott wished he had the guts to rugby-tackle Edward – for his own good and Harry’s – but he couldn’t do that in front of all these people, could he? The drama was going to be bad enough as soon as Edward set foot inside that marquee.
Edward called Harry’s name, so Harry made his apologies to the women and came bounding over to join them. His expression now mirrored how distressed both Edward and Scott were – and his dad’s face was probably covered with fury, too, but Scott didn’t dare look.
Harry halted in front of Edward and grabbed his hands. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”
Edward gazed intensely into Harry’s eyes. “He knows.”
“Edward, I asked you not to say anything!”
“Harry,” Scott said, “this isn’t how it seems. Don’t be upset with Edward, he –”
“You’ve ruined everything,” Harry said. “I wanted to tell him in my own way.”
Mr Sawhney stepped forward and grabbed Edward’s arm. “You need to leave. Get off my property.”
Edward ripped his arm free from Mr Sawhney’s grip. “I told you to keep your hands off me, you motherfucker!”
Several people glanced over, but Edward didn’t care. He turned back to Harry and opened his mouth. Scott held his breath, waiting for him to tell Harry the truth about his father. But instead, he crumpled and looked away. He panted for a moment, as no words came out – then he turned and strode across the immaculate lawn back towards the house, defeated.
Scott followed. He could hear Harry and Mr Sawhney exchanging words behind him. He glanced around for Paul and spotted him straight ahead, chatting with a group of young women, who were giggling at his attention. Scott ploughed straight into Paul and grabbed him by the hand.
“Oh, speak of the devil,” Paul said. “This is my hus
b–”
“We’ve gotta go,” Scott said, not stopping.
“Why?” Paul asked, falling into step with Scott. “What’s happened?”
“We’ve gotta find Edward. I think he ran back into the house. And I hope he ran straight out the front door without stopping to cause any damage to Mr Sawhney’s property.”
Paul jogged to keep up with Scott’s desperate pace. “Oh god, he didn’t tell Mr S about him and Harry, did he?”
Scott started to explain, but Mr Sawhney suddenly appeared at Scott’s side and seized him by the shoulder, making him halt. “You tell them to stay away from each other, do you hear me? Your job at the gallery depends on it!”
Scott shrugged him away, then turned to walk off. “Come on, Paul, let’s find Edward and get out of here. We don’t associate with blackmailing bullies.”
“I mean it!” Mr Sawhney shouted.
Scott tried to stop his legs from shaking as he strode with Paul into the house and out the front door. He was sure his boss wouldn’t fire him merely because of Mr Sawhney’s demands. But Mr Sawhney was a powerful and generous patron, so it was best not to provoke him.
Scott stepped out into the sunshine and found Edward leaning his elbows on the top of Paul’s car, with his head in his hands.
Scott jogged over and rubbed his shoulders. “Hey. That was a good thing you did – not telling Harry about you and his dad.”
Edward lifted his head. Scott’s heart squeezed painfully as he saw that his cheeks were streaked with tears. “Oh, Edward – I’m sure it’ll work out in the end.”
Edward shook his head. “How?”
Paul stepped over. “Would someone mind telling me what’s going on, please?”
Edward ignored him. “I should’ve told him what a motherfucker his dad really is. I should’ve told him!”
Paul frowned. “But why’s his dad such a mother –?”
“Paul, will you shut up a minute, please?” Scott said.
Paul started to defend himself, but Edward suddenly turned and lurched towards the house. “Fuck it, I’m gonna tell him the truth!”
Scott grabbed his shirt, using his bodyweight to block his path. “Edward, don’t be an idiot. Not now; not in front of his family. Just think about what’s best for Harry!”
Edward’s tense body relaxed as the fight seeped out of him. He rested his head on Scott’s shoulder and crumpled into his arms. “I’ve lost him. It’s not fair, Scott. I really, really like him. And now I’ve lost him.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Harry sat on his huge bed, trying to stop himself from shaking. He hadn’t felt this bad since he’d contracted a fever in India and convulsed for three days solid. But actually, this was much worse, because now his heart was convulsing as well as his wretched body. His mind alighted on the memory of Edward’s cheeky grin, causing pain to pound hard in his chest, like an iceberg tearing a gash in the hull of a metal boat.
He raised his head and gazed around the room through teary eyes. He didn’t feel at home here at all – this wasn’t even the bedroom he’d slept in as a child. Since he’d come back from India, he’d been sleeping in this lavish ‘grownup’ room, with its heavy wooden furniture and gilded velvet drapery, all of which had been shipped over from the sub-continent to make him feel like a prince. He didn’t – he just felt oppressed; exactly as he’d felt in India. The thick red carpet on the floor was the only thing that gave this away as a UK space. Hot-and-humid Delhi homes were usually tiled with marble throughout to keep them cool. And of course, there was no ceiling fan above the bed in here.
Harry’s forlorn mood nosedived further as he remembered hearing about a gay woman who’d been married off to a nice enough guy – but she’d been so miserable that she’d hung herself with her dupatta from the ceiling fan. He bit back his tears and wondered whether his future wife would ever do such a thing when she realised he wasn’t interested in her.
His chest tingled with loss. Why hadn’t he tried harder to fight for Edward? Why had he just let him leave like that? Was this really the end?
He was yanked from his thoughts as his father burst through the door without knocking. He was wearing a paternal smile on his face. “Can I sit down, Harry-ji?”
Harry shrugged. “It’s your house.”
Mr Sawhney lowered himself next to Harry and he rubbed him on the back. Harry knew better than to shrug him away as most of his English friends would. Honouring his mother and father were part of his culture. But what if they were wrong this time?
“It’s not fair,” Harry whispered.
“Haroon, I know. But you are our eldest son. You have a duty of care towards your family – you will become the head of the family when I’m gone, and it goes without saying that you must behave as a good role model to your brother. And to your sisters, too. We can’t let them see disobedience. Where will that leave us? Our family will be ruined, all because of your recklessness.”
“Papa, I don’t want to marry a woman. Why can’t you hear what I’m saying?”
“Well, that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that. And the last, I hope. Marriage isn’t an option for us, Harry. It’s not like here in UK. Marriage for us is for making childrens. Teenage love does not last. I’m saying this for your protection. When you remove fleeting love from the equation, you get stable respect and honour. I respect and honour your mother...”
Mr Sawhney let this hang in the air. Harry glanced up and watched his father shift uncomfortably, as if he was waiting for Harry to argue. But he had nothing to say, so he gazed down at the carpet.
“I am an oil trader,” Mr Sawhney said. “You will be an oil trader. We trade with the Middle East. Can you imagine what they would say if they knew… this thing about you? They would not only cease trade with us, but they would arrest us when we go there. It’s illegal in India for a reason, you know.”
“But it’s not illegal in UK, papa. And I am British.”
Mr Sawhney’s voice dripped with sympathy. “Look, Haroon, we have an understanding between us that you will enjoy your liaisons in Brighton – but you will be discreet, right. And after that, you will marry Meena and she will satisfy your needs. And together you will have a respectful relationship with two children. That is what the fortune teller said. You must understand that we know what is best for you. You are a child. You don’t have life experience. That boy, Edward, he is… not good. I forbid you to see him again.”
“He is good, father.”
Mr Sawhney sat bolt upright and reverted to the strict father that Harry had feared as a child. “No! I am aware of what he does for a living – it’s disgusting! Do not go near him again. You will not disobey me. Now stay in your room and don’t leave – or else you will pay the consequences.”
Mr Sawhney stood up and left, slamming the door behind him.
Harry stared blankly into space for a few minutes, as his numb mind whirred like a box-fan. He shook himself out of it. What would Edward do in this situation? And Scott and Paul? Harry grinned and allowed a surge of hope to sweep him to his feet. He changed into his Western clothes and grabbed his wallet and phone, then he fled out the front door, refusing to give up on love.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The atmosphere in the kitchen strained with the tension of plane-crash proportions. Since they’d returned from the party, Scott, Paul, and Edward had sat at the table and tried to dissect what had happened. As the time had slowly ticked by and the twilight had seeped in, the room had become dim – and now the shadows from the streetlamps outside carved gloomy shapes over Edward’s delicate face. He was understandably taking it badly. He looked dejected; slumped in his seat and staring at nothing.
Scott stood up and switched on the light. “I’ll make some dinner, okay.”
Paul nodded gratefully. Edward remained motionless.
Scott didn’t enjoy cooking, but he figured it shouldn’t be too hard to prepare some pasta. He boiled up a pan of water, warmed a jar of b
olognaise sauce, and chopped some veggies. He absent-mindedly hummed along to the power-ballad on the radio, but he suddenly realised it was about losing love, so he flicked it off, plunging the room into a steely silence.
Scott glanced at the table, and saw that Edward was now resting his head down on the back of his hands. He wished he could transfer the youngster’s pain to his own heart – he’d willingly absorb it for Edward, and allow him to borrow his joyful heart for a while.
He stirred the pasta. “Edward, can you set the knives and forks, please?”
Without looking up, he shook his head. “I can’t eat. I have nothing now.”
Scott and Paul exchanged a glance.
“Don’t be silly,” Paul said. “All’s not lost.”
Edward sat up and rested his cheek on his hand, making him look handsomely pensive. Paul stood and opened the silverware drawer to set the table himself.
“I can’t believe I’ll never see him again,” Edward muttered. “All that crap about how it’s better to have loved and lost is bullshit. This sucks. Worse than any physical pain I’ve ever had.”
Paul placed a knife and fork down in front of him. “Edward, I’m sure you’ll see Harry again. This is just now, not always.”
Edward perked up. “Hey, I could call him!”
“Have you got his number?” Scott asked.
“No, but you must have it.”
Scott left the pasta to simmer. “Listen, Edward, as you get older you’ll begin to understand that sometimes you’ve gotta be patient and let the dust settle. You can’t go storming back over there, demanding that Harry’s family fall into line with what you want. You need to learn the difference between reacting and responding.”
Edward frowned. “How do you mean?”
“Well, you can learn that your instant emotional reaction isn’t an objective representation of reality. You can step back a little and decide how to respond, rather than being a slave to your reactions. Get it?”
“Sort of.”
“Look, if you can just wait until the morning, until the emotional impact has faded a little, you’ll see things a bit more rationally, and then you can respond in a more helpful way. We allow our emotions to drag us into situations that we often regret, because we lash out and say things that we’d never say in the cold light of day. Why don’t you sleep on this and see how you feel –”
Lustful Gaze (London Loves #6) Page 16
