When lunch was finished Pascal lay back in his chair with a sigh of contentment. “A beautiful day, Tom, a beautiful day. It makes you glad to be alive, to feel the sun on your bones and smell the good earth. You can keep gold and silver. Give me fresh air and sunshine, they’re by far the greatest treasures.” He gave a mischievous wink. “Listen to me, the garden philosopher. Tom, my boy.” He gave a gleeful little rub of his hands. “I have a real fancy for chocolate. I don’t suppose there’s any in the house?”
Tom beamed, delighted by Pascal’s mood. There was even a touch of colour in his cheeks. Perhaps Ian’s prognosis had been premature. “There’s a bar of your favourite dark Belgian in the kitchen drawer. I’ll fetch it. Would you like a cup of coffee to go with it?”
“You read my mind. Make mine…”
“Hot and strong, I know, I know.”
Clicking his tongue in exasperation Tom shoved the kitchen drawer closed. It was the first time in ages that Pascal had voiced a fancy for anything and Adam had gotten to it first, greedy devil. Fishing his mobile phone out of his jeans pocket he called him, feeling a need to remonstrate there and then.
It was hard to stay cross with him, as he used the same portion of breath first to apologise for his munchies moment and then to express excitement because Pascal wanted chocolate. He said he was already on his way home and would stop at Tesco to pick up a bar, no, two bars of papa’s favourite dark chocolate.
Shaking his head, Tom slipped his phone back into his pocket. Knowing Adam he’d arrive home with a collection of chocolate bars. He set about cleaning the percolator. It still held dregs from the morning brew he’d made for Ian. He tipped the used grounds into a plastic tub ready to put on the compost heap. He measured fresh coffee into the cage and switched it on to perc. He then turned his attention to washing up the lunch pots.
Adam landed home just as the coffee pot switched itself off, filling the kitchen with its rich aroma. The front door burst open and his feet hit the stairs as he headed up them calling a greeting. “Papa! I’ve got your chocolate.”
Tom strode into the hall. “You won’t find him up there, Ad. He’s in the back garden.”
“Garden!” Adam turned and headed back downstairs, leaping the last three. “He must be feeling better.” His sapphire eyes glowed with delight. “I told you’d he’d turn the corner, Tom.”
“Don’t get carried away, love. Just enjoy the fact he’s having a good day.”
“One good day will lead to others. I know it.” He put the little bag containing the chocolate bars onto the hall table. “Kiss,” he demanded, reaching his arms around Tom’s neck. “I want a kiss from my sexy man.”
“I’m your man again, am I?” Tom’s smile and the arms he’d been about to wrap around Adam’s lean waist froze. A frown replaced the smile. “You’ve been drinking.” He unlaced Adam’s arms from his neck. “I can smell it on your breath.”
“Don’t turn dominant Daddy on me, please, not today.” Adam gave a little grin and tried again to hug Tom. “Not unless it’s in the spirit of foreplay. I like it when you turn dominant then. It turns me on.”
“Stop it, Adam. I’m not in a playing mood.”
“It was only a pint of lager for Pete’s sake, to celebrate the end of term. I’m not staggering around in circles.”
“One pint, one mouthful, it makes no difference. You don’t drink and drive, not ever! That was the stipulation of you having a car at all.”
“Evan bought me it even though I asked for a coke. I could hardly refuse to drink it, not after he’d paid for it.”
“Yes, yes you could. It’s your responsibility to do so. If you don’t have the strength of character to say no to friends who shouldn’t be buying you alcohol in the first place then you shouldn’t be driving.” Tom pushed his hair back from his forehead with an agitated hand. “God knows you’re easily enough distracted when you’re sober. You can’t afford to drift off into daydreams when you’re behind the wheel of a car, Adam. You need to keep all your wits about you and those wits don’t need addling by alcohol.”
“I’m fine, no harm done. I won’t do it again.”
“Damn right you won’t. Give me your keys.”
“Fuck’s sake!” Adam’s handsome face darkened. “I’ve just got them back.”
“You’ve lost them again, and for the entire summer. It might teach you a lesson. Hand them over.”
“You’re so fucking anal about alcohol. I had one drink, Tom, one! I’m not drunk. There’s no actual law against having one drink. It’s not like I ploughed my fucking car into a gang of pedestrians. Ow!” He gave a yelp as his arm was taken and he was jerked sideways, a sharp smack landing on his backside.
“Enough!” Tom’s eyes flashed fire. He slapped Adam’s bottom again several times. “I won’t have you make mockery of something so serious. The man who killed your mama and uncle Marcus probably didn’t think he was drunk either.”
Adam blushed with shame. He rubbed the seat of his jeans, his eyes filling with tears. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound callous.”
Tom’s demeanour softened a little, but his voice remained stern. “The rule is no drinking when you’re driving. If you can’t be responsible for yourself then it’s up to me to be responsible for you. Keys please. If I have to ask again I’ll put you over my knee and I’ll spank you properly. There’ll be nothing playful about it.”
Adam fished the keys out of his jeans pocket, placing them in Tom’s outstretched hand.
“Thank you.” Tom slipped them into his own pocket. “Go and give Pascal the chocolate. We’ll talk more later.”
Picking up the bag of chocolate Adam shot Tom a sulky look before striding off through the kitchen and out into the garden.
Tom followed, hearing Pascal greet Adam with a cry of pleasure. He stood by the open door for a few moments watching as Adam hugged Pascal and then sat down on the grass at his feet. He unwrapped a bar of chocolate, breaking it into small squares, handing it to Pascal a piece at a time. Tom turned his attentions to the coffee, sharing it between three cups.
Pascal beamed as Tom set the tray of coffees on the garden table. “Sunshine, good coffee, good chocolate, and my boys.” He playfully ruffled Adam’s hair. “What more can a man ask for.”
Chapter Eight
Adam knocked softly on the bedroom door and then entered. “Morning, papa. I’ve brought you tea. Did you sleep well?”
“I slept fine.” Pascal smiled.
“Are you ready for breakfast?”
“In a little while, let me blink the sleep out of my eyes first.” He held out a hand. “Come and help your old papa to sit up.”
Adam set the cup of tea on the bedside cabinet. He arranged Pascal’s pillows and then helped lift him to a sitting position. Sitting down on the bed he took hold of Pascal’s hand and gently rubbed it.
“I love you very much, Adam, you know that don’t you?”
“Yes. I love you too, and you’ll be well again soon. I know it.”
“No.” Pascal tried to look stern, but failed, his face revealing only gentle concern. “It isn’t going to happen. Don’t feed yourself false hope. It will only hurt more. Accept the truth, my darling. I have.”
Adam raised the frail hand to his cheek, closing his eyes, willing the life that ran strong and vibrant through his body to flow into Pascal’s body. He spoke huskily, “but you were so much better yesterday, papa, like your old self.”
“It was a respite, no more, but I’m grateful for it. It was a joyous day with all of us together. Don’t be sad, mijn jongen. I’m ready.”
Pascal’s body might have grown frail, but his voice was still the same. There was no weakness in it, no hesitancy. It sounded just as it always had whether reading poems and stories or, rarely, rising in exasperation. Adam couldn’t believe it would soon fall silent forever and he would hear it no more except as a distant echo in his mind. He choked back angry tears. “Well I’m not. I’m not ready.”
A gentle laugh, a hint of a tease. “No one is asking you should be. I have to do this alone. We all do. It’s not your choice or mine. It’s just the way things are. I’m resigned and I’m not afraid.”
“I wish I could be resigned, but I can’t and I am afraid.” Adam placed Pascal’s hand on the counterpane. “What is it that poem says - the one by Millay. ‘I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.’ She acknowledges the inevitability of death, but refuses to feel reconciled to it. I know death is unavoidable, but I refuse to be reconciled to it or to see it as something other than the cruelty it is.”
“You’re young and still getting to grips with the world, Adam. When you’re my age you see things in a different way. There comes a time to stop raging and start accepting the rest that must come to us all.”
Adam covered his face with his hands, sobbing. “I don’t want you to leave me, papa. What will I do, who will care about me?”
Pascal wrapped his arms around Adam, stroking the long unruly dark hair, crooning endearments, as he had with Tom the day before. “I’ll always be with you in some sense.”
Adam raised his head from Pascal’s shoulder, curving his mouth into a teasing smile, “above the sky and beyond the clouds?”
“Yes,” Pascal smiled with him, “and not just above the clouds, but in your heart. Death isn’t the end. ‘One short sleep past, we wake eternally and death shall be no more.’
“John Donne.” The smile wavered and Adam sobbed afresh. “Bloody priest, what did he know. What kind of God strikes you with this unholy disease and leaves the bastards of this world whole and healthy. I don’t understand. I can’t accept I’m going to lose you. Don’t talk to me about God. I hate him, if he exists at all.”
“Don’t grow bitter, dear één. Bitterness only brings misery to the world. It’s a weed that chokes faith and kills hope. I believe God guided you and Tom to Eleanor and me.” Pascal sighed. He was tired. Despite what he had told Adam, he had not slept well. His night had been disturbed by pain, which even his medication had failed to dull. “You won’t be alone. You have Tom, if you wish it, you have Tom.”
“I’m done with Tom. I don’t even like him anymore.”
Pascal fought back a smile. “You don’t mean that for a moment. You save looks and smiles for him that you give to no other. You’re in a sulk, though I don’t know why. You richly deserved the punishment he meted out to you.”
“He told you?” Adam’s eyes widened with indignation.
The smile won, breaking through the grey pallor of Pascal’s face like sunshine through mist. “Yes, he told me last night after you’d gone to bed. He was upset and needed to talk.”
“HE was upset! I don’t know why he was upset. It’s me that’s had my car keys confiscated, and for the whole summer. I bet he didn’t tell you that.”
“It’s no more than you deserve. You know the rule, absolutely no drinking and driving. You’re dreamy enough without bringing alcohol into the equation. It clouds judgment. I’d have done the same as Tom.”
“No you wouldn’t.” Adam pouted. “You’re not as mean as he is. He didn’t have to be so uptight and he had no right to confiscate my car keys again. I’m an adult...”
Pascal interrupted. “Not in attitude. You behaved irresponsibly. Tom was angry and frightened about what might have been. He’s quite right to inject a measure of discipline into your life. You need it.” Pascal pressed his lips together, trying to conceal his distress as pain invaded every inch of his body. He took a deep breath. “Make up with Tom, make a commitment. I know you love him and he loves you. He’ll care for you in all the ways I care for you and far beyond. He won’t ever let you down.”
“I know.” Getting up off the bed, Adam wandered over to the window to look outside. The sky was the colour of rare blue jasper marbled with dense white clouds. He stared down at the garden where he had spent so many happy childhood days. He could see the swing Pascal had made for him years earlier. It hung motionless from the old cherry blossom tree, its ropes worn and weathered and its wooden seat badly in need of a coat of fresh varnish.
If ever anything spoke of love to Adam it was the swing. He could hear his child self, whispering, ‘for me. You made it just for me!’ His arms had flung themselves impulsively around Pascal’s waist and then Eleanor’s. It was the first time in his life he’d spontaneously offered affection to anyone. It was the moment he knew he had at last found a family to whom he could belong.
Watching Adam stand by the window Pascal concentrated on committing every contour of his face and body to memory, drinking it into his soul, so he could take it with him on the journey he sensed was fast approaching. White-hot pain surged through his body. He bit his lip, willing himself not to cry out. Keeping his voice calm and steady he said, “open the window for me, Adam, it’s stuffy in here. Let some air in.” He took a deep breath as the pain intensified and then receded leaving a deep sense of peace.
Pushing open the window Adam felt a rush of air - only it seemed to be leaving the room not entering it. At the same moment great shafts of sunlight radiated from behind a cloud striking the earth with breathtaking clarity and beauty. “Look, papa,” he gave a loud cry of pleasure. “Sunrays!”
Turning from the window the cry became one of grief as he gazed into the blue eyes fixed on him. He felt himself absorbed in their blank opacity and knew the man he loved so much had gone. A faint smile lay upon Pascal’s lips and the lines of pain were smoothed from his brow. His arms lay outstretched on the counterpane, the palms upturned and the fingers slightly curled, as if he was offering his hands for someone to hold.
For the briefest of moments, no more than a heartbeat, a whisper that spoke of love hung in the air and was gone. Unimagined pain tore through Adam. Going to the bed he lay down and curling close against the still figure he wept.
Tom stood silent in the doorway, taking in the scene. Walking across to the bed he gazed down for a few moments before closing Pascal’s eyes and placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.
“Come on, pet,” he caressed Adam’s shoulder. “There’s no purpose to be served here now. There are things that must be done.”
“Papa is gone, Tom, he’s gone.”
“I know, my love.” Scooping Adam into his arms he carried him to his own room and lay him down on the bed. He sat with him, stroking his hair until he fell into an exhausted grief-stricken sleep. After kissing his tear wet face he took a deep breath and then went to do what he knew Adam was not capable of doing: to set in motion the procedures that would remove all physical trace of Pascal Janssen from their lives. He called Ian to break the sad news and to ask him to attend his old friend one last time.
He then sat in the sunroom. He had helped Pascal build it onto the side of the house the same summer Adam had come into their lives. Closing his eyes Tom felt the warmth of a June sun caress his face through the glass. Tears slowly worked their way from beneath his lowered lids, trickling and falling onto the terracotta tiles of the sunroom floor. The trickle became a torrent of salt-water grief for a man who had taught him that love existed and he had a right to a share of it.
Wiping his eyes with the palms of his hands Tom composed himself. Rising, he walked across to the picture window gazing out at the rose garden. “Safe journey, Pascal,” he murmured softly. Suddenly he felt a tangible presence, a hand on his shoulder, a soft kiss of breath on his cheek, a whisper that might have been in the room or might simply be an echo in his mind. He answered it aloud. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Adam.” The presence vanished as quickly as it had come.
Chapter Nine
After scattering Pascal’s ashes in the fragrant rose garden, Tom replaced the casket lid and stood for a few moments in silent contemplation, listening as nature sang a song of summer with bird voices and insect sounds. It might have been his imagination, but he fancied he caught a hint of sweet violets mingling with the rose scent, like the perfume Eleanor had always
worn. It comforted him to think Pascal was reunited at last with his beloved wife.
He entered the house via the sunroom and put the casket away. He then went out into the back garden to find Adam. He was sitting stationary on the old cherry tree swing, his arms hooked around the worn ropes. He glanced up as Tom approached. “Done?”
“It’s done.”
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t, you know,” Adam swallowed, trying to contain his emotions. “I want to remember him as a whole person, not as a pile of dust.” Tears overflowed. “I miss him, Tom. I miss papa.”
Taking hold of Adam’s hands, Tom pulled him off the swing and into his arms. “I know, my love. I know you do. It’s all right.” He cuddled him, murmuring endearments until the tears stopped. “Come on, let’s go inside.” He wiped Adam’s wet face with his hands. “It’s lunchtime, you need something to eat and drink.”
When lunch was over, Adam ventured upstairs. Going into the master bedroom he sat on the empty bed. Picking up the photo of Eleanor and Pascal he stared at it, grief gnawing at him afresh for people who had shown him the meaning of love, especially Pascal. His memories of Eleanor were of a warm and loving, but relatively brief childhood presence. His grief for her loss had softened over time while his grief for Pascal was raw, as sharp as a knife in his heart. Putting the photo back in place he walked over to the window.
Lost in memories he didn’t hear Tom enter the room, only becoming aware of his presence when an arm slipped around his shoulders. In the garden the cherry tree swing was caught by a sudden gust of wind, which lifted it towards the sky. Adam imagined he heard a ghost of boyish laughter as it swung back and forth. Turning his sights heavenward, a strange peace descended on him. Somewhere out there his mama and papa were waiting. He would see them again. The certainty of it hit him like a ray of light striking the earth from behind a cloud.
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