by Con Riley
“What’s happening?” Louise asked from the office doorway. “Jude, what are you doing?”
He couldn’t answer right then, too busy typing coordinates into the marine traffic app Trevor had last used to show him the Aphrodite’s position. Now a view of the globe turned on the screen of Louise’s laptop, oh-so-slowly rotating before zooming in on the spot where one old photo, a packet of postcards, and Trevor’s skill had led them.
He checked the names of nearby vessels, searching in vain for the yacht Tom skippered, frustrated that he couldn’t spot her. “Shit.”
“What?” Now Lou sounded upset. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“The Aphrodite. She’s still miles away. Days away. Fuck.”
On the screen, other ships blinked. The Mykonos, the Amethyst IV, and the Corona Sol were steered by strangers, sailing for pleasure or business, not one of them obligated to him, but when Tom did as he’d promised and sent out one last SOS for Jude’s parents, every single crew responded.
Jude watched, his last hopes rising, as one by one and in almost real time, each vessel changed direction.
34
The next three days were a whole new form of torture.
Jude went through the motions of being competent in the kitchen even though all his knives betrayed him, slicing his knuckles as if he was an amateur rather than a contender for the best new chef in Britain. Rob alternated between making nice with their first paying guests and coming back to the kitchen to dispense first aid. Each time Jude turned the air blue in the kitchen, Rob wrapped each new cut with plasters the same colour, kissing him better for longer than was strictly necessary before getting back to what he did best, making everyone who crossed the New Anchor’s threshold feel welcome and special.
Louise also did her best to maintain a brave face while serving tourists she’d worked so hard to lure back. But like the village missing its sandy star attraction, she too missed something vital.
Trevor, who drove from St Ives early each morning, put his finger on it on the third day. Jude overheard him as Trevor restocked the bar for them without asking. “It’s okay not to know how to feel, sweetheart,” he said to Louise over the clink of bottles. “Waiting like this to hear if any more of the One for Luck is found, or for definitive news about your parents, is awful. No one expects you to be the life and soul of the party with all of that hanging over your head,” he promised. “Like no one would begrudge you taking some time for yourself while you’re waiting. That’s why I’m here, like Susan and Carl and so many more of your friends. We’re all here to make waiting for news easier, if you’ll let us.”
“I can’t take time out.” Louise sounded as wretched as Jude felt. “I need to be here, close to the phone, just in case.”
Just in case was a sword over all of their heads that might plunge at any moment. Maybe Marc thought so as well. He followed Louise closely—had done for days now—as if his presence might shield her. Rob had been doing the same, Jude realised, with his near-constant hovering, meaning that his absence now was conspicuous. Jude missed him more than seemed reasonable considering it hadn’t been long since Rob had rolled out of their shared bunk with a cheery, “Got an errand to run. Be back before you know it.” Now Jude glanced at his watch. Nearly two hours had passed, much longer than a quick errand should take, surely? He asked, “Have you seen Rob?” from the bar doorway.
“No.” Trevor tidied away the bottle of cognac that Rob toasted each new guest with. “Not since I passed him on the hill out of the village.” He made short work of polishing the spot where the bottle had stood, the counter gleaming warmly as he braced both hands on its wooden surface. Concern etched lines into a face that still exuded kindness. “Is there something I can help you with until he gets back, Jude?”
“No.” Jude picked at the edge of one of his blue plasters, wondering when the absence of someone who used to be a thorn in his side stung more than the fresh nicks on his knuckles. “I just wondered where he was.”
“Go on,” Trevor urged both Jude and Louise. “Both of you. Take a break before the lunchtime rush. Looking after yourselves is important.”
Jude took Trevor’s advice, taking himself off to sit outside with the seagulls on the sea wall, staring for once not out to sea, but at where the street curved uphill, away from Porthperrin. The sun warmed his face as he waited and the breeze ruffled his hair, flirty, like the man he watched for. Jude pushed strands back from his forehead and stood as he heard the low rumble of Betsy’s engine, and when Rob appeared at the end of the quayside, windswept and so gorgeous, Jude could hardly get his words straight. “Where did you and Betsy get off to?”
“Foraging.” Rob brandished the bag he carried with a smile so bright it dazzled. “And Betsy needed petrol.”
“How much did the car lot guy offer for her, this time?” Jude asked, but he already knew Rob’s answer.
“Doesn’t matter. There isn’t enough cash on the planet.”
Jude peered into the bag Rob held out. “Mushrooms.”
“Ten out of ten for observation skills.” Rob emptied the bag onto the wide top of the sea wall and let Jude pick through them. “We’ll make a chef out of you yet.”
“I would have come with you,” Jude muttered, turning each mushroom over, checking the colour of their gills before throwing a couple of dubious ones into the water. “That way I could have spotted those two weren’t edible before you tried to poison our guests.”
“Like you would have been looking at the ground if I had taken you with me. We both know that you would have been too busy staring at the view to be useful.”
Rob teased, but Jude didn’t like the way he sounded so sure. That had been the old Jude, not the new version who valued what he had, right here in each moment.
“I wouldn’t have wasted time looking out to sea, if you’d taken me with you,” Jude said, brushing dirt from his palms before tugging Rob close by his belt loops. How could he with Rob to look at? He moved both hands up, over Rob’s sun-warmed shirt, the heat radiating through its cotton similar to the heat flooding Jude’s chest and cheeks as he told his new truth. “I told you that you’re my horizon, these days, didn’t I?”
“You did,” Rob said, breathless as if he’d run down the hill instead of driven. He stepped into an embrace that did nothing to help Jude cool down, his kiss so soft and giving, opening to Jude without hesitation. Rob broke away to ask a quiet, “Any news?” before leaning in for another kiss after Jude shook his head. This one was more consoling, and given with so much tenderness that Jude could hardly breathe after it ended. Instead, he let Rob pull him closer, his forehead finding safe harbour in the crook of Rob’s shoulder.
How could something so simple as this—a shared kiss, a pair of arms that opened for him, an offer to brace him while his head felt this heavy—how could this one man be everything he needed?
That was a second brand-new truth that lifted him like a smaller wave hidden behind a first high one. He remembered when his dad first taught him how to swim in the sea, reminding him not to panic. It didn’t matter if tall waves swamped him, he’d instructed. Another wave would be right behind it ready to lift him if he’d let it. And that was exactly how it felt to Jude right then, Rob being there to raise him up when sinking had seemed certain. Rob did so much more than buoy him.
After everything else that was so complicated, putting how he felt into words was easy.
“I love you so much.”
Rob’s arms around him tightened. “So you should.” He joked although his voice was thicker than usual. “Love you too.” He spoke quietly but his next swallow was audible. “For however long you need me,” he added as if there was any reason in the world Jude wouldn’t. Jude leaned back to say so just as a shout came from farther down the quayside.
“Hey!” Louise stood outside the Anchor next to a stack of Rob’s auction chairs and tables. “Can you two lovebirds stop snogging for long enough to do some real work?” Her ha
ir whipped in the breeze, and she slid a hair-comb through to tame it without looking, just like their mum used to.
“What do you say?” Rob held out a hand. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah.” Jude threaded his fingers through Rob’s and they walked back to the Anchor together. “I’m ready,” he said, even though it turned out he truly wasn’t.
The phone rang at the end of the lunch service.
Jude heard it at the same time as Louise, who appeared in the bar doorway, her knuckles white around the damp cloth she held just as Jude’s blanched around the kitchen door jamb. Trevor got to the office to pick up before the caller rang off, his back to the door by the time both Jude and Louise got there.
They both were close enough to hear him say, “Hello, you’ve reached the New Anchor. How may I help you?” as if he was about to take a dinner booking, and they both saw the pencil he’d plucked from the desk drop to the floor with a clatter.
Trevor’s back straightened suddenly, but Jude felt like his own was missing its spine, and perhaps Louise felt that collapse might come in the next second as well. Her grip on his hand should have been painful. Jude barely felt it, numb until Rob arrived and said, “Hold on.” Both Jude and Louise did as he instructed, clutching each other as all of Trevor’s breath hissed out.
“No!” Trevor almost yelled into the phone receiver. “No!” He did shout that time, and Jude felt his whole world grind to a full stop, once more.
This was what he’d expected.
This was also what he’d hoped would never happen.
Trevor turned to face them, the phone still held to his ear, his eyes swimming.
“No,” he said once more. “This isn’t Jude speaking.” A tear fell, followed by another. “It’s Trevor Mirren.” His voice was so thick. “It’s me. Trev.”
“Who is it?” Louise’s grasp on Jude tightened again, but he didn’t notice the sting of her nails. Instead, the moment Trevor next spoke, a new unsteadiness rocked him as if another storm had struck Porthperrin, fierce enough to wash away more than only the beach, wild enough to shove Jude’s whole stalled world back onto its axis.
Trevor said, “I expect you want to talk to your children, Simon,” and Jude’s world finally started to revolve, once more.
35
Once he took the telephone from Trevor, Jude couldn’t keep pace with the rate his world turned. His head spun as he crouched so Louise could share the receiver, both their hands shaking as they clutched it, and Jude managed a total of one word.
“Dad?”
He sounded all of eight-years-old at that moment, his voice reedy and unbroken only to crack like a teenager’s as soon as his father responded.
“Jude.”
His dad’s voice was just as he remembered, that single word conveying what Jude felt too in that moment—relief so pure it hurt to hear it. Him saying any more was redundant; Jude heard everything he needed, his dad still alive and breathing. Just a few more words could make this phone call perfect, which his dad promptly delivered.
“Your mum wants a word.”
Susan quizzed him later, but it was hard to remember what his mum had said, the Anchor’s bar crammed with friends and strangers sharing a spontaneous party. Even the guy from the car lot appeared as if their good news had crested the brow of Porthperrin’s steep hill, their joy a rising tide that showed no sign of ebbing. Luckily, Louise didn’t seem half as fazed as Jude still did, hours after taking that life-changing phone call. She repeated everything Jude had heard, summarising what their mum had asked of them both. “She wants us to come and get them.”
“Of course she does, pet. And don’t either of you worry about this place. We’ll all pitch in to help Rob.” Then Susan added, “And we’ll all pitch in with some cash to help you get there as well.”
That last remark was almost enough to shift Jude’s smile, one which hadn’t let up yet. Paying for flights—two tickets out instead of one this time, and four for the return journey—would take more than a whip-round from friends and neighbours. Jude ran through options, coming to financial dead-ends maybe as Louise had after the storm that winter, and like her, Jude’s thoughts drifted in Rob’s direction. Perhaps he could think of a creative way to fly them both halfway around the world and back for next to nothing.
Jude scanned the bar, gaze shifting from table to table, half expecting to find Rob, smile blazing as it had since that call of what felt like seconds ago, but—Jude checked his watch—was hours now. Instead, he finally glimpsed Rob as he headed outside with someone, the door closing between them and Jude just as they shook hands. Trevor left then too, his hug before he went home to St Ives nearly tight enough to leave bruises.
For him, Jude at least managed two words. “Thank you.” It didn’t seem nearly enough.
Trevor didn’t agree. “It was nothing,” he insisted, his voice still a little shaky, almost drowned out by the revelry around them. His embrace somehow lingered long after he let go, Jude’s breathing constricted by so much shared emotion that continued after Rob came back into the bar, expression pensive. It lightened as he met Jude’s gaze.
How could one look say so much, Jude wondered as Rob had his back clapped by more than one tipsy celebrator. How could that dark gaze he’d taken ages to trust now mean the whole world to him?
Rob maintained eye-contact as he skirted crowded tables, making his way across the room with purpose just as Jude decided that maybe those were questions for tomorrow, along with trying to figure out how to finance their flights. Tonight wasn’t for worry. Tonight was living every moment to its fullest. Rob reached him just as Jude came to that conclusion. His eyes widened as Jude followed through on his decision in the one place he never dreamed that he could.
He kissed Rob in full view of everyone in the Anchor’s main bar, and the world didn’t come to an end. Not a soul seemed to notice, so Jude kissed him again. They parted, Rob looking dazed and lovely. He’d do anything to keep that expression on Rob’s face forever, although forever was a concept Jude still strained to picture. Their future past the end of the summer was hazy as if sea mist obscured it, but Jude had one prayer granted already so he could work on another just as soon as he steered his parents home for good. For now, he thanked everyone in the bar who added cash to a pint mug that was brimful by the time the church bell struck midnight, Marc and Louise the last to go home. He carried it through to the office to count in the morning, thinking that Louise seemed happy enough to float up the hill rather than walk, only to find Rob closing the laptop, frowning.
“Thought I told you that it’s pointless trying to stream porn with our slow connection,” Jude teased, similar happiness to his sister’s maybe filling every vein in his body, heart pumping glee through arteries that felt full to bursting. Rob didn’t answer, so Jude squinted. “Don’t tell me you were mooning over Guy Parsons’ byline picture again. You know he’s as good as married.” At least that aroused a tired huff of laughter. “You could look at me instead,” Jude offered, pulling off his T-shirt. That caught Rob’s attention, his frown melting and his cheeks taking on more colour when Jude knelt between his knees to unfasten his jeans. Jude paused before popping the last of Rob’s fly buttons. “Or were you looking at hotel rooms in St Ives again? Silly when we’ve got a hotel of our own right here.”
“Our own,” Rob said, looking pensive again, like earlier. “Until your mum and dad are back.” He added swiftly, “And thank God for that.”
Jude did pray to every deity he could recall as he tugged Rob’s jeans down, his cock firming with each kiss Jude laid on it. Jude offered thanks for small miracles and big ones—for a shared bench at a cooking contest, for a storm that washed Rob back to him, and for another that shipwrecked his parents with all of the One for Luck’s provisions. He licked away a jewelled bead of pre-come while counting more treasures, Rob top of a list that made him feel wealthy even if Jude’s bank account was empty. What did money matter when he had all this? Jude mapped a b
ody he loved with every cell of his own, pressing that emotion in with his fingers, he hoped, as he took Rob into his mouth. He’d go into debt for the rest of his life as long as he got to give this man pleasure.
“F-fuck,” Rob said not too long later. “Fuck, I’m close.”
Jude looked up to see Rob almost as undone as he felt, teeth digging into his lower lip and hips canting helplessly upwards, strain evident in his grip on the desk seat. Jude blinked and Rob’s expression transformed in that split second, bliss lighting him from the inside, coming as Jude swallowed. He sagged back, boneless, watching as Jude undid his own jeans to stroke himself off, only to take over, Rob mapping him just as Jude had—touching, stroking, exploring territory that was his for the taking.
He could have it all, Jude knew in a way that went soul-deep.
Rob might have signed an agreement with Louise, but he owned Jude’s heart, lock, stock, and barrel.
Jude woke the next morning to the sound of Louise screeching far louder than the seagulls roosting on the boatshed roof. She flung open the door and shouted, “Pack!” She then noticed that her brother was virtually naked, along with Rob who yanked up a sheet of rainbow batik. She clapped a hand over her eyes, then peeked through her fingers once they both were covered. “Okay, okay dress first! Then pack!”
Jude caught the duffle she threw at him. “Lou. What—?”
“Plane tickets!” She said like that was a full explanation, expanding when Jude didn’t immediately hurry. “They were in our email inbox this morning. Two each. The first from Newquay to Heathrow, then onwards. God, if Trevor was here right now, I’d kiss him.”
