March glanced at him, thinking he was joking, but he wasn’t.
“Is there a country you’d like to visit?” Caleb asked.
“Antarctica.”
“Lots of ruins there.”
March laughed.
“A mountain to climb, by some chance?” Caleb asked.
“Yeah and a marathon to run, but that’s not why. I’d like to see the wildlife, especially the whales and the penguins. I want to stand on a sheet of ice that seems to go on forever, touch an iceberg, take a helicopter flight to the South Pole and swim under the ice.”
Caleb groaned. “I was absolutely with you until you said swim under the ice. I couldn’t do that. What if you didn’t find the hole again to surface through? What if you met some sea creature that wanted to eat you? What if you swam down instead of up because you got confused? What—?”
“Okay, okay. I won’t swim under the ice. Now look for somewhere to park. We’re here.”
Caleb drew in a breath. “Would you really not swim under the ice if I asked you not to?”
March spun the wheel. “Look. There’s a spot.”
It didn’t escape March’s attention that he hadn’t answered Caleb’s question. Nor would it have escaped Caleb’s. Would he let Caleb’s anxiety stop him doing what he wanted? He doubted it. Maybe he’d be less reckless, but what he really wanted was to persuade Caleb to take a risk and do exciting things with him.
March had never been a fan of shopping. He liked to look good, but he tended to buy in bulk a couple of times a year. Shopping with Caleb turned out to be fun. For a guy who seemed to manage with a couple of pairs of everything, Caleb had strong opinions on what looked right and what didn’t.
March was pleased when Caleb bought things for himself. If he hadn’t, March would have bought them for him, though he knew there’d have been an argument if he’d tried. Caleb even bought clear lenses, though March wanted to persuade him to have laser surgery to correct his vision.
They tried on crazy stuff there was no way March would have even looked at if Caleb hadn’t been with him. Clothes that March thought were too tight ended up being purchased, partly because Caleb’s eyes had glazed over with lust when March emerged from the changing room. They ended up having to go back to the car to dump the bags.
“Lunch, then we have an appointment,” March said.
“To do what?”
“Wait and see. Fish and chips?”
“Eaten outside?”
“The only way.”
They stood in line at the busiest chippy, on the basis that it was likely to be the best, then found a bench and sat looking out over the almost-empty beach to the gray sea beyond.
“Your parents brought us here,” Caleb said. “That was when your mum lost her ice cream to the gull. We ate fish and chips in one of the restaurants on the seafront. I don’t think I’d ever been in a restaurant before, not counting McDonald’s. I put too much vinegar on my chips and your mum tipped it off my plate onto hers. She was always kind to me.”
March didn’t remember the vinegar thing, but his mum had been kind to Caleb. He thought now that she’d seen what a tough life Caleb had. She’d never even expressed surprise March was friends with a boy three years younger than him.
“When I was in that room, I went over everything I remembered, time after time, so I wouldn’t forget. I imagined grass under my toes, how it felt and how it smelled, the sun on my face, you cycling next to me. Snow. God, I missed snow.”
March tucked his foot behind Caleb’s leg and rubbed his calf.
“But I forgot what you looked like,” Caleb whispered. “One day, I just forgot. I thought maybe it was my brain telling me I had to, that I couldn’t move forward unless I accepted you were dead. Did…did you forget what I looked like?”
“No. But I had a photo to remind me.” March was finding it difficult to swallow.
“Liam was such a lying bastard. He’d say, ‘I’m going to let you go tomorrow. Just do this and tomorrow I’ll set you free. Tomorrow you’ll be in the sunshine. Tomorrow you can breathe fresh air.’ And I kept believing him, even when his tomorrow never happened—because the alternative was worse. To not hope. To not want… I did try to get away.”
Caleb had stopped eating. He stared down at his lap.
March didn’t know what to say.
“Well, I did for a while, and then I didn’t. I was scared I’d go mad. I talked to you, talked to myself, talked to made-up people.” He gave a short laugh. “Then I stopped talking out loud and did it all in my head. I made so many promises. ‘If I get out of here, I’ll not answer back to my dad, I’ll give my mum flowers and make her happy, I’ll try harder at school, give up ideas about dancing, give up chocolate, give up wanking.’”
March snorted.
“Well I didn’t have to, did I?” Caleb shrugged and started to eat again. “I wonder if we’d have gone out with one another if life had taken a different path.”
“Did you imagine that life?”
Caleb nodded. “The strange thing is I always imagined I’d make the first move. I wasn’t sure about you, but I was about me. I’d planned it out. We’d go to the cinema, some scary movie, and I’d hold your hand because you knew what a wuss I was. Only when it wasn’t scary anymore, I’d keep hold of your hand and sit and wait to see if you’d let me go. And that was all we’d do. Hold hands. Because I was eleven years old and that was all I needed.”
March wrapped his fingers around Caleb’s.
“Do you mind me talking about it?” Caleb asked. “I never have and I think I should have, but I had no one to tell. But I also know it’s hard to hear because it’s hard to say. You’re the first person I’ve felt able to trust, that I’ve wanted to trust. And I’m sorry if I’m coming over all heavy, but I feel as though my past has been pressing me down harder and harder, and now I can breathe again.” He winced. “Too much, I know. Sorry.”
March squeezed his fingers. “You can tell me what you like, whenever you like.”
Caleb shot him a smile. “Four years and I still haven’t gotten the talking to people right. After I walked away from Jasim and away from the sunrise to the station, I had to talk and listen, and I was so overwhelmed I almost broke down. I told you before that it took me a while to understand how to have conversations, but that first day was so hard. Later, even when I thought I understood what people were saying, I didn’t always get what they meant, the subtleties passed me by. I trusted too easily when you’d have thought the opposite should have been true. I should have trusted no one.”
“But the vast majority of people are good. I think you did the right thing. You did the brave thing, risking getting hurt. You’re the bravest guy I know, that I’ll ever know.”
Caleb screwed up the papers from his fish and chips. “Don’t ever show me a snake.”
“There are no snakes in Antarctica.”
“Sold,” Caleb said.
“But there are leopard seals and killer whales.”
Caleb groaned. “And you want to swim under the ice?”
March stood, tossed the remains of his meal into a wastebin and held out his hand for Caleb’s.
“Right. Time to go see a man,” March said. “Or it might be a woman.” He checked the directions on his phone.
“What’s happening?”
“Wait and see.” March was nervous about this. He wanted them to look at Caleb’s back and tell him they could fix it. But what if they couldn’t?
Caleb had no idea where March was taking him. When they stopped outside a building with the sign DisappearInk over the door, Caleb sagged.
“I’m surprised but not in a good way,” he mumbled.
“I’ll make up for it later. Just see what they have to say. I booked you for a first session, but if they can’t do anything, they’ll tell you.”
> Caleb gritted his teeth and pushed open the door. A young girl sat behind a desk, and she smiled when Caleb and March walked up to her.
“Caleb Jones. He has an appointment,” March said.
“If you’d like to take a seat, Rod will be out in a moment.”
Caleb dropped onto a chair. Do not have a panic attack. He could feel his heart rate increasing, that choking sensation forming in his throat. He was breathing too fast and clenched his fists.
March wrapped his hand around one of Caleb’s and caressed his knuckles with his thumb. “Is there a tiger coming to eat you?” March whispered. “A snake about to bite you? Or an ordinary guy coming to talk to you? What’s your worst fear?”
“I have to answer?”
“Yep.”
“Snake.”
“There you go.”
“If this guy Rod comes out with a snake around his neck, a snake tattoo or snakeskin boots, or even mentions a snake, I’m leaving.”
“Breathe,” March said in his ear.
“Hi.”
They both spun toward the voice. It belonged to a small guy with a wide smile and curly blond hair. No snakes.
“Which of you is Caleb?”
Caleb tried to say “me” and failed.
March hauled him to his feet. “It’s him. I’m coming with him.”
They followed the guy down a corridor and into a treatment room.
Caleb tried to listen as Rod went over everything. All he wanted to do was bare his back, be told they couldn’t help and get out of there.
March helped when Caleb stripped to his waist—Caleb’s fingers wouldn’t work. Caleb stood with his back to the door, his chest aching and his pulse sliding out of control.
“Turn around,” March said.
“This won’t be anything I haven’t seen before,” Rod said. “We’ve had it all. Misspellings. Faces of people the wearer now hates. Names of ex-boyfriends, ex-girlfriends. Bad tattoos. Ugly ones. Sometimes good ones but no longer wanted.”
Caleb turned. There was no exclamation of disgust. He flinched when he felt Rod’s gloved fingers touch him.
“Okay,” Rod said. “We can fix this.”
“You can?” March asked.
“Yep. Black ink is easier to remove than color. It hasn’t been done professionally—at least I hope not—so the ink’s not as deep into the skin as it might have been. I don’t foresee any problems. I’d estimate seven sessions, but you should see a difference after just one.”
“You hear that?” March nudged him.
Caleb had heard what Rod said. He was having trouble taking it in.
“I’m just going to do a test area first to check you react okay.”
Breathe.
“You want me to use topical anesthetic?” Rod asked.
“No.” One word. I managed one word.
“Does it hurt?” March asked.
“It’s like snapping a rubber band against your skin,” Rod said.
No it fucking isn’t.
Caleb clenched his teeth together as Rod moved the laser over his back. He’d passed the initial test, and Rod had launched into the actual treatment. It felt like he was drawing the same words on him that Liam had.
“If there was one standard ink, tattoo removal would be much easier,” Rod said. “But there are over a hundred types, so it’s difficult to predict how resistant a tattoo will be.”
Why isn’t he asking me why I have such filth on my back?
“If they don’t go completely, can they be tattooed over?” March asked.
“When the skin’s healed, yes.”
“You can have that clump of grass you always wanted,” March said.
Caleb zoned out. It did hurt, but in a strange way he liked that it did because it was as if each zap pulled something bad out of him. He should have consulted someone sooner. The difference this time was March, who sat in the far corner, lounging in the chair with his legs crossed, safety glasses in place like the ones Caleb wore. He felt guilty for having doubted him yesterday. March wouldn’t lie to him or cheat on him.
When Rod had finished and a dressing was applied, Caleb sat up. He ached and his back was stinging as if he’d spent too long in the sun. Not that his back had ever been exposed to the sun. Rod left the room and March helped Caleb dress again.
“Well done,” March said. “You only whimpered seventeen times.”
“Why didn’t he ask me why I’d had the tattoos done?”
“I told them not to when I made the appointment. I said you’d had them done under duress and they were not to ask you anything about them and that I would be with you at all times.”
“They’ll think—”
“Who gives a fuck what they think? It has nothing to do with them.”
At the reception desk, Caleb took out his wallet and March pushed his hand away. “Let me pay.”
“No.”
March put his fingers on Caleb’s arm. “Please. Let me.”
“It’s not your fault,” Caleb said loud enough for Rod to hear where he stood in the corner.
“I know, but this is something I can help fix, so let me.”
Caleb sighed, then nodded. He arranged another appointment for seven weeks’ time and they left.
“How do you feel?” March asked.
“Battered.”
“Do you want to stay the night in a hotel? I was thinking we could go for a meal, go to a club, but you’re supposed to take it easy. I could drive us home.”
“Would you mind driving us home?”
“Course not.”
“Maybe we could change the reservation to the night before my next appointment, then we could go to a club. Assuming…”
“Assuming what? That we’re still together?”
“No.” Though that was what Caleb had been thinking. “Assuming I’ve taught you how to dance.”
March laughed.
Caleb was relieved when March pulled up on the drive outside his cottage. His back ached and he wanted to go to bed even though it was only just after seven. March carried all the bags in from the car and dropped them in the hall.
“Would you like a drink? Hot chocolate? Beer? Something to eat?” March asked.
Weird but Caleb had the distinct feeling March was avoiding looking at him.
“Hot chocolate would be nice.” Caleb sat on the couch and watched him.
When March handed him the mug then sat on the chair instead of next to him on the couch, Caleb’s heart dropped onto his stomach.
“What’s wrong?” Caleb asked.
“I lied to you.”
Caleb’s hand shook and he put the mug on the floor.
March looked across at him. “I thought I had a good reason for lying, but I don’t want to be the sort of person who doesn’t tell you the truth.”
Caleb’s mind raced in a thousand directions.
March put his drink down. “I went to see Jasim yesterday.”
Caleb didn’t think he could have been more shocked, unless maybe March had said Liam’s name. He leaned back, then lurched forward when it hurt.
“Why did you do that?” Caleb whispered. “You had no right. I promised Jasim and…” A sob burst from his throat.
March came to sit next to him and Caleb shifted to the far end of the couch.
“Caleb, we had to know if it was him sending the roses, him who’d killed Simon and stabbed Mike.”
“We? We didn’t have to know anything. I promised him. He killed for me.”
“I know he did. I didn’t tell him that I knew.”
“He’ll guess. He’s not stupid. How did you know where he lives?”
“I paid a private detective.”
Caleb let out a long groan.
“I’m sorry I
’ve made you angry.”
“You lied. If you’d just come out and told me…but you lied. All that crap about the Viking burial site. I was…” Scared. Caleb bit off the word. Disappointment filtered into every cell. The weight that had lifted from his shoulders came creeping back.
“Jasim gave me an idea of who might be behind it.”
Caleb lifted his head. “So you were going to play the hero and deal with it without bothering me?” He saw from the fleeting expression of guilt on March’s face that he’d been right. “I don’t need you to fight my battles, to control me, to fucking save me. You can tell me you called Annabel and told her you’re gay, but you couldn’t be bothered to tell me you’d looked for Jasim? You’re an idiot. You’ve wrecked everything.”
He pushed to his feet and marched upstairs. It wouldn’t take long to pack. He’d just fill the car again.
When he came downstairs, March blocked the front door.
“Get out of the way,” Caleb snapped.
“I don’t want you to leave. I know you’re angry and I’m sorry. Let’s sit and talk about this. Jasim suggested it might be the cameraman.”
That brought Caleb up short. “I never saw his face.” He’d always had it covered.
“He was Liam’s brother.” March reached for his arm and he pulled away. “Please, Caleb. I want to help you. I want you to feel safe. I didn’t intend to upset you.”
“Then you should have told me what you wanted to do and not lied when you’d already done it. Get out of the way.”
“Don’t go.”
But March moved aside.
Maybe if he hadn’t, Caleb would have stayed. Maybe if he’d tried harder to persuade him. But he didn’t. Caleb couldn’t bear the thought of going up and down stairs for the rest of his stuff.
“I’ll come back and get my other things and leave the key then.”
By the time he reached the car, tears were rolling down his cheeks. He had to stop partway down the road because he couldn’t see to drive. He wanted to go back. He shouldn’t have run. He’d behaved like a kid throwing a tantrum. March hadn’t set out to hurt him. But he’d not come after him either.
Caleb swallowed hard. A night apart to think wouldn’t do them any harm. He set off again.
Give Yourself Away Page 30
