by Lily Morton
His hair blows in the breeze from the open car window, the silver strands showing up starkly for a second. I look at his profile – the sharp nose, the high cheekbones – and my stomach clenches. Why can’t it just be us? Why is this so bloody complicated?
Julian starts talking about the next house, and I sigh, but at that moment, Gideon sends his hand back. I slide my own into his, and he squeezes before glancing at me with a soft smile. It’s tinged with concern, but it’s one hundred percent love.
“What do you want to look at, Eli?” he says, breaking abruptly into Julian’s spiel. “Be honest, because none of these are working for you.”
“I don’t know,” I say desperately, wishing we were on our own. “They’re all just too much.”
“Well, the ones at the lower end of the price you gave me were ridiculous for the two of you,” Julian breaks in, his expression slightly sneering. “You couldn’t swing a cat in those places.”
“We haven’t got a cat,” I say sharply. “Which is lucky for the poor animal, if we were intending to chuck it around like a boomerang.”
Gideon snorts.
Julian shoots me a glance in the mirror. “Maybe you’d like to contribute to the search then, Mr Jones,” he says sweetly. “Actually give me something to go on.”
“I don’t know,” I say, looking out of the window. We’re steering carefully down the winding overgrown lanes near Fowey at the moment, and I see a For Sale sign hove into view. “How about that one?” I say carelessly. “Let’s look at that one.”
The house will likely be all wrong, but I’m so fucking fed up with this day. I want to go back to the cottage and fall on the bed and bury my head under a pillow.
Julian brakes slightly. “It is one of ours,” he says. “But I didn’t think of showing it to you. It needs a lot of work. And it’s on the river, so there’s the privacy aspect.”
“Well, let’s have a look,” Gideon says, staring at me, his expression inscrutable.
Julian shrugs and flicks the indicator. “I’ll have to ring the office. Someone can bring the keys out. It’s empty, luckily, so we won’t have to arrange a viewing.”
He drones on, and I stare out of the window as we travel down a long, curved driveway. The bushes to each side need cutting back, and I catch the sweet hawthorn scent as the branches scrape against the car. I smile at Julian’s curse. Gideon’s mouth twitches at me, before he turns his attention back to the front.
I look up curiously as we come out onto an overgrown forecourt in front of a large detached Victorian house. The bay windows are obviously rotten, and the whole house looks dilapidated and careworn with peeling paintwork and dull windows.
Julian stops the car and reaches for his phone, and I get out, stretching my arms and staring around. It’s a hot afternoon, and the sun beats down on me. It’s very quiet; the only sound is that of bees buzzing and cheerful birdsong. I sniff and inhale the scent of lilac and a deeper, darker smell which is probably the estuary.
I pace across the forecourt, hearing the gravel crunch under my feet. It’s peculiarly peaceful here. Quiet, but very welcoming. As if the house has been waiting for us, I think fancifully. I walk up the steps to the front door and peer through the grimy window to the right. There’s the faint outline of a huge room, and I scrub my hand through the dirt to try to see more.
“What do you think?” Gideon asks.
I turn to him. “It’s—” I search for words. He’s sure to hate this one. Every house he’s gravitated towards so far has been huge and new. “What do you think?” I settle for saying.
He steps back and looks around, and when he turns back to me, his eyes are shining. “I love it so far,” he says.
“Really?”
He grins, looking suddenly very young. “It just feels right.” He trails off before gazing around again. “It feels like it’s been waiting for us,” he whispers, and I draw nearer, loving the way his arm comes around my waist and pulls me closer. “That makes me sound like a twat,” he mutters.
“No, I feel the same,” I interrupt quickly. “I love the setting.”
He stares at me, and his grin widens.
Julian approaches, saying, “Penny’s in Fowey, so she should be here any minute.”
“How much is this up for?” Gideon asks, his tone decisive.
“One and a half million,” Julian says, looking at his phone. “It would be worth a lot more, but the previous owner died years ago, and his estate was locked in a will dispute, so the place went downhill.”
My heart sinks immediately. I thought for some wild moment it might be cheaper, because it’s so run down. That makes me the idiot because property like this is never cheap.
Gideon frowns at me, and I bite my lip as a small Kia barrels up the driveway and parks in a flurry of gravel. A young blonde woman gets out and smiles widely at Julian as he walks towards her.
She says something to him, and he comes back to give the keys to Gideon. “I just need a word with Penny, so you go in, Gid, and have a look around.”
Gideon takes the keys from him and shoots me an apologetic look, but I shrug and walk to the door, waiting for him to open it. I inhale the spicy vanilla scent of him when he stands close.
He throws the door open and gestures theatrically to me. “Beauty before age, my darling.”
I shake my head at him and walk in. The house smells of dust and age, and everywhere there is peeling paper and awful coloured paintwork. But the flooring, although dusty, is made of wide wooden floorboards and the windows are huge.
We pace through the large, empty rooms that are splashed with sunshine, and his hand finds mine in the stillness. The staircase is wide, and I scrape my fingernail on the cracking paint. “Bet this is pine,” I say. “Victorian house builders used that a lot.”
“How do you know?” he asks, smiling at me curiously.
“When I was in hospital, I watched a lot of afternoon TV. Some things stay with you.”
“Hopefully not Jeremy Kyle.” He shudders. There’s a smile in his voice, but his fingers caress my shoulder where the bullet hit me, and his eyes are dark.
We move upstairs, finding six bedrooms and a huge old bathroom with what looks like the original fittings.
“Jesus,” he says, shuddering. “That’d be the first room to be done.”
I smile and pass into one of the bedrooms. It has double doors that lead out onto a small balcony. It has a view of a long overgrown garden that runs down to the river.
Gideon peers into the adjacent room, and then comes to stand beside me. “The next bedroom is tiny. We could go down to five bedrooms and use that one as an en suite for us.”
I lean back against the wall and sigh. “Gideon, this is over a million pounds of property,” I whisper. “And probably a lot more with all the work that needs doing to it.”
“And your point is?”
“You know my point. So being sarcastic is obviously not something to try.”
“Oh, and petulant comments are?” The sudden heat in his voice surprises me because he’s usually so calm with me. Well, they say everyone has a boiling point, and I think I’ve found his.
“Don’t call me petulant,” I say loudly, straightening my spine. “Where the fuck did that come from? I’m as entitled to my opinions as you fucking are. And dismissing them as petulant is not exactly the way to have a relationship with me.”
“And being determined to have your own way is?” he says just as loudly. “Because if we do as you say, I’ll have the fucking paparazzi sitting on my lap when we eat dinner.”
“Well, there must be a middle ground,” I hiss. “Somewhere between Midas levels and the hovels that I’m obviously forcing you into.”
“Oh, please,” he huffs. “Grow the fuck up.”
“Oh right, so I’m childish now? Lovely. It’s juvenile to want a say in where I live and how much the bills are. I’ll make sure I take fucking notes on this shit because you’re obviously intending to film
an alternative version of The Stepford Wives.”
My voice has risen, so I actually shout the last bit. A cough comes from the door and we both spin round to find Julian looking rather smugly at us.
“Well, what do you think, Gid?” Julian finally asks into the silence. “This is one step up from the shithole I had to show you last week but only just. I don’t think this is what you’re looking for at all. I’ve got a new house over at Rock that you might like.”
I bristle, because looking at this house was my choice even if it was entirely accidental.
Gideon gazes at Julian, his expression cold. “I’m not quite sure if criticising one of your customer’s choices is advisable. But what do I know? I’m just an actor. What I do know, however, is that I asked you to call me Gideon and you have refused to do that. Therefore, I’m now thinking that you can call me Mr Ramsay.” Julian gapes at him, but Gideon carries on talking in that ice-cold voice. “Eli and I need to have a chat about the place, so you can leave the keys with us. We’ll drop them into the office in Fowey when we’ve finished.”
“Oh, I’m not sure I can do that,” Julian says hesitantly. “How will you get home?”
“I’m sure we’ll manage,” Gideon says in his best Lord of the Manor voice. I want to roll my eyes, but equally, it’s quite nice to watch Julian being brought down a peg or two.
There’s a short silence, and then Julian drops the keys into Gideon’s outstretched hand. “I’m sure that will be fine, Mr Ramsay,” he says politely. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
He’s gone in seconds, and the sound of his car reversing on the gravel outside carries up on the still air.
“I’m not sure what you think we’ve got to talk about,” I say carelessly.
“Oh, really?” Gideon says in a somewhat dangerous tone. “You’ve got no idea at all?”
“Don’t speak to me in that tone of voice,” I say sharply.
“Well, why not? The conciliatory one obviously isn’t working.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I do apologise that I’m not one of your fucktoys with my pesky fucking opinions. I tell you what,” I say loudly, my temper snapping at the condescending look on his face. “Why don’t you fuck off back to your previous life? You can do what you want with whoever you want to now. There are no barriers to anything anymore.”
He jerks back like I’ve punched him. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means, Gideon,” I say, enunciating every word, “that you have many options now. So many options. The world’s men are like a sharing platter. You can have anyone. You’re out and proud. No need to stay with me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he shouts, coming close. “Why would I look at anyone else?”
“It’s going to happen,” I say. All the rage drains out of me, and I can’t keep my fears in anymore. “You could have someone so much better for you than a broke and currently temporary nurse. All those rich, pretty blokes are just waiting for a chance with you.”
“Where is this coming from? Eli, sweetheart, please talk to me.”
His soft words make me shudder, and tears burn in my eyes. “I mean that you could have anyone.”
“I don’t want anyone.” His words are very clear, and his rich, warm voice that contains so much love in it echoes in this old sunny room. “I just want you.”
“For how long?”
“Forever,” he says, and the certainty rings in his voice.
I stare at him. “How do you know? I’m the first serious relationship you’ve ever had, and you’ve only known me a few months.”
“I know.” The words are stark but ring with conviction. He takes my hand and lays it over his heart. “I know in here.” He raises my hand to his temple. “And in here. I know it with everything inside me. Could I have anyone else? Doubtful, but I know I could have my pick. What you’re missing, my love, is that I did pick and I chose you. Because you’re clever and kind, gorgeous and funny. Because you smell like coconut and when you hug me I feel warm all the way through. Because you’re my safe place. Because you’re the love of my bloody life.”
“Gideon,” I choke out. He opens his arms and I step into them, feeling his heat and scent surround me. I bury my head in his neck, and he kisses my head.
“I love you,” he whispers. “I will never love anyone like I do you. Please don’t leave me. I don’t want to go back to being alone again, because with you I never feel like that.”
“I won’t,” I whisper. I raise my head and look at him. His face is resolute and filled with a fiercely passionate love. “I’m so sorry.” The words are tumbling out. “I’m so sorry that I’ve been a shithead. It’s just that the press is always around, shouting shit through the letterbox about you and me. And I’m not much. I’m practically broke with student loans and my overdraft. I try not to look on the internet, but there are all these comments about how you’ll get tired of me and find someone better. And I wondered what I could give you that anyone else couldn’t do a lot better.”
“A home.”
“Pardon?”
He pushes my hair back, his fingers soft with a slight tremor. I’ve frightened him, and remorse burns through me.
“You give me a home,” he says softly. “And that means everything to me, Eli. I will never jeopardise that. And I know it’s hard to trust. Fuck, I feel the same most of the time. I look at your youth and the fact that you’re a billion times more sunny-tempered than me. You could easily find someone a hell of a lot less complicated than a practically middle-aged grouchy actor.”
“I couldn’t find anyone better,” I say, amazed.
His face twists in a tender, exasperated way that makes me want to hug him. “So, how is it that you can say that and I can’t?”
“Because—” I falter. “Oh, I see what you’re doing.”
He grins and hugs me tightly. “I think only time will let us trust each other, but I don’t make promises easily, Eli, so I want you to listen to this one. I promise to love you until the day I die. I promise to remember that you’re precious to me, and I promise to talk to you about my problems and share them with you.”
His words sink into me, melting the tight knot of worry that’s been in my belly for a while.
“I promise to talk to you, too,” I say quickly. “I wanted to, but—”
“But you felt like you should be the one who steers us.”
I blink, amazed at his perspicacity. “Well, I suppose so.”
“You can’t,” he says simply. “We have to take turns steering, but I think if we both have our hands on the tiller, we won’t go too far wrong.”
“That nautical reference seems quite appropriate here,” I say softly.
“I look forward to making many more of them.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I’m not dismissing your fears about the money. I don’t want to diminish them, because they’re real.”
“But?”
“But what I have is yours.” He puts a hand up to halt my outburst. “Yes, I have money, Eli, but I literally have nothing else. I’ve lived in hotel rooms for twenty years. Up until last month, I didn’t even wear my clothes twice.”
“What are you saying?”
“That I want to put down roots. I want a home to come back to. I want to share that with you because it’s no fun without you. I want to pick paints and wallpaper. I want to argue over the kitchen overhaul and what curtains we’ll pick.” His face shines.
“You really want that? It’s very domestic.”
“It’s not domestic. It’s a basic need for us to have a safe place away from the world.”
“And you need to be away from the world?”
“Yes,” he says simply. “My job is very public, and I need to find somewhere that we can just be us, where our real friends and families can come. I need somewhere I can be me and not Gideon Ramsay, actor.” He looks around. “And I think this place is it.” He smiles at
me. “You feel it too.”
“You really want this one?”
He nods. “I do. I felt it as soon as we came up the drive. This is our house, and I knew it as soon as I saw it. Just like I knew with you.”
“But I still can’t be on an even footing with you on money.”
“No, you can’t,” he says, and the stark simplicity of his voice stops any protests. “But do you imagine that I’m on an even footing with you?”
“Of course you are.”
“No, I’m not,” he says, grabbing my hands and squeezing them. “I’m really not. I’m arrogant and selfish and have no fucking idea how to make us work. I need you for that. I’ll always need you for that.” He smiles tenderly. “I think we need to remember that we’re a team. Our strengths and weaknesses go together. We look after us, and the rest of the fucking world can mind its own bloody business. Fuck the trolls on the internet. Fuck the tabloids. Fuck everyone. It’s us that’s important when we’re together.” He pulls me close. “You need to learn this,” he says urgently. “You’ll have to grow a thick skin, and I’m devastated to think that some of your sunniness and trust in people might go, but I’m selfish. I can’t be without you. You’re giving up a lot to be with me – privacy, peace of mind. Don’t think I don’t know it and that I’m not grateful for every second that you stay with me.”
He kisses me, his lips clinging softly to mine, and suddenly need roars through me.
“Gideon,” I say harshly, fisting his T-shirt in my hands.
His eyes darken. “Yes,” he says thickly. “Yes.”
And then we’re tearing our clothes off in this dusty, empty room. Our bed is the wooden floorboards and our covers the undulating light from the lazy river outside that plays over the walls and floor. We don’t make any attempt to fuck each other. Instead, we lie entwined and grinding, our cocks rubbing deliciously against each other in a slick of pre-come and sweat, until we cry out and come gushes between us and mingles on our stomachs.
Gideon grabs his T-shirt to clean us off, and we lie back, my head on his shoulder, my leg thrown over his, and his fingers playing in my hair. Silence falls, comfortable and easy again.
