“That’s her.”
“Hold back. We need her to lead us to where she’s staying,” Andy said. It was a good strategy.
“Won’t she hear the engine behind her?” Ben wondered.
“Nah. The rain is too loud,” I replied.
Slowly, keeping at least fifty metres between her and us, I followed her to the most unlikely place.
“A campsite?!” I spluttered. “She’s staying at a fucking campsite?”
“We camp all the time,” Ben pointed out.
“Yeah but we don’t live in a tent,” Andy countered. “That’s grim.”
“How does she expect to dry off from the rain? She’ll get pneumonia!” I growled. This was not acceptable. I wasn’t going to let her do this. “She’s moving in with us.”
“Agreed,” Ben said.
“Me too,” Andy added.
I parked near the tent and we got out as she unzipped her home. It looked soaking wet already. I couldn’t believe she hadn’t told us about this earlier. We could have helped her. Once again, I found my palm twitching. Twice in one day. She was really getting under my skin.
* * *
Bex
After the funeral, I sneaked out while Andy Matt and Ben weren't looking. I didn't want them to know where I was staying. It was too embarrassing.
At least the rain had eased off into a drizzle. When I reached the campsite, I went straight to my small two-man tent and was unzipping it when I heard a voice behind me.
“Please tell me you're not living here,” Matt said. I cringed.
“Why did you follow me?” His invasion of my privacy seemed much worse than my small white lie.
“I was suspicious. Looks like I was right. You got all evasive about where you were staying, and I knew it wouldn't be anywhere suitable.”
I sighed in frustration. “What am I supposed to do? My house burned down, my fiancée died, and the universe doesn't give you a free pass when stuff like that happens. It doesn't matter how many bad things have happened to you, if you can't afford the rent you can't rent a house.”
“Fifteen minutes.”
“What?” What on earth was he talking about?
“You have fifteen minutes to pack your things and put them in my car.”
“And then what?”
“You're moving in with us.”
“I can't afford rent. Weren’t you listening?” My frustration began to rise. How dare he get involved and tell me where I could and couldn't live when he didn't understand the problem?
“I'm not asking you to pay rent. You are moving in with us. There’s central heating and it will be dry, and I won't have to worry about people robbing you at night.”
“I can't.”
“Why not?”
“I'll owe you too much.”
“You won't owe me a damn thing. Just get on with it.”
I shook my head and got inside my tent, zipping it up behind me so that he couldn't follow. I was fumbling with the padlock I used to keep myself safe, when Matt wrenched the zipper up. He got in with me and began throwing my things into my duffel bag.
“Stop it.” I couldn't be dependent on him. I would solve my problems by myself.
“Need a hand Matt?” Andy asked. His head appeared in the entrance of the tent and I sighed from the bottom of my toes.
“Can you get him out of here?” I asked.
“No can do,” Andy replied. “There is no way we are letting you live here, love.”
“Yeah, we all love camping and the great outdoors, but living in a tent is ridiculous. It's January.” Great. Ben was here too.
“And Slough isn't exactly a scenic place to put your tent.” Andy's words made the other two chuckle. I felt my anger rising.
“How dare you all show up here and tell me how to live my life? Get out, all of you! I've been fine for the past two weeks; go away and mind your own business!” I gave Matt a shove but he ignored me and continued packing my belongings. Andy reached in and pulled me out of the tent. I tried to struggle but he and Ben literally carried me to the car and deposited me on the backseat.
“You can't do this,” I grumbled.
“You know, for someone who doesn't want to get in the way, you're doing an awfully good job of making a nuisance of yourself already,” Andy pointed out. “Stop arguing. You’re coming home with us.”
I probably should have got out of the car and called the police on the three of them for harassment, but in all honesty, I was tired. Sleeping in a tent for two weeks had not been restful. The idea of going to a warm house, without having to worry about getting wet when it rained, was tempting. And they weren’t going to take no for an answer.
When three men returned to the car with my duffel bag, they put it in the boot and got into the car. Matt was in the driver's seat, Andy sat beside me, and Ben was in the front. We drove to their house in silence.
Chapter 2
Bex
Matt, Andy and Ben's house was about an hour’s drive from the campsite. They lived in a pleasant village, nestled amongst lots of trees. The house was on a lot of land, surrounded by trees with a big garden. It was one of those detached houses that was about a hundred years old. The sort with pointy roofs and gables, elegant brickwork, lots of windows, and a big wooden front door.
They parked the car in the driveway, in front of a big double garage.
“How many people do you share this with?” I asked.
“Just us,” Andy replied. “We like our privacy.”
“All this for you three? How do you even afford the rent on this place?” I couldn't believe it.
“Well, given that Matt owns the place, we don't exactly have to make rent every month.” At Ben's words, I whipped my head around to look at Matt.
“How?” I couldn't even put together a question with more words than that.
“It's not important.”
“Hypocrite,” I retorted. The three of them had followed me to check on my living arrangements. It seemed a little bit ridiculous that Matt wasn't going to tell me this one thing.
Ben threw open the door.
“Come inside, we’ll give you a tour,” he said.
Hesitantly, feeling like I was entering the lion's den, I followed him inside. Andy and Matt were behind me, and Andy brought my bag.
Inside, the place was decorated in a simple, functional style, but it didn't look out of place. I got the impression the three men didn't want to spend their weekends decorating. I followed Ben down a hallway.
“Through here's the kitchen,” Ben said, waving an arm to show me as I stepped through the door. It was impressive. There was one of those big range cookers with six rings and plenty of cupboards. A ginormous fridge stood beside a door to another room. A big wooden kitchen table was currently adorned with a bowl of fruit. Immediately, I got a little excited at the prospect of cooking in here. I wasn't a particularly great cook, but something about this kitchen spoke to me.
“Through this door we have the dining room.” Ben held the door open for me and I followed him. It fitted the big dining table and the antique dresser with room to spare. In most houses, the dresser was stacked with fancy china plates and bowls—the best stuff—but instead, this one was filled with things I didn’t recognize.
“What’s all that?” I pointed to the glass doors above the main table top of the piece of furniture.
“That’s our airsoft stuff.” At my blank look, Ben added, “It’s like paintball, but with air guns. We like to do it at the weekends, sometimes.”
I nodded. “I guess it’s a bit of a busman’s holiday, right?”
“Our jobs at the RAF are pretty sedate when we’re not on deployment. You don’t get a lot of action in Aston Clinton,” Ben countered. I already knew that, of course, from my time with Adam, but I nodded anyway. Boys’ toys in the dining room... what would the neighbours say?
The only other feature in the dining room was another door. Ben opened it and showed me in. A T.V. room. I wa
sn’t great at guessing the screen size, but this thing was massive.
“We have movie nights on Wednesdays,” he said. I didn’t know what to say about that, so I just nodded. “This way.” He opened another door from the living room and we were back in the hall again. There was another door down here, and he pointed to it. “That’s our sex dungeon.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nope.”
A wave of dread washed through me and I shook my head. That was too far. I was in a house with three strange men and now this.
“I’m leaving, now,” I said weakly.
I went to the front door and grabbed it.
“Why?” Ben asked levelly.
“Er, because I don’t want to be by myself with three men I don’t know very well and who have a sex dungeon in their house.”
“Why?” He was starting to sound like the Why Bird.
I sighed, exasperated. “I don’t want to do that stuff.”
“No-one’s asking you to. We also have a gym in the garage, and a Soda Stream somewhere in the loft, but you don’t have to use those, either.”
I couldn’t help it, I snorted with laughter. The tension evaporated and took my fear with it. No-one with a Soda Stream was going to rape and murder me.
“Why do you still have a Soda Stream? Were you even born when they were a fad?”
“Yup. Want to go out in the rain or shall I show you upstairs?”
I coloured red in embarrassment and took my hand off the Yale latch.
“I’ll stay dry for a bit longer, thanks,” I replied.
“Good. Shoes off; let’s go up.” Ben pulled off his Reeboks and started climbing the stairs. I kicked off my court heels and stood up. He looked back and held out a hand. I shook my head and took the banister, instead.
“Fair do’s,” he remarked, and continued upstairs.
I followed. The deep-pile beige carpet felt soft beneath my feet. It even looked plush. It complemented the sage green of the walls.
“Bathroom, my room, Matt's room, Andy's room,” Ben recited as he pointed out various doors. “Guestroom. Or, to be more accurate, your room, now.”
He opened the door, and I'm not sure what I was expecting, but the room inside was quite ordinary. I walked through the door and looked around. There was a bed, covered with a silky duvet in slate grey. The curtains matched. A wardrobe and a small chest of drawers, both made from solid pine, or some other light wood, furnished the room.
There was a tasteful picture on one wall, opposite the window. One of those lines and swirls type drawings. Sort of pretty but fundamentally meaningless.
Above the chest of drawers, there was a mirror. It was slightly higher than I would've put it, but that made sense, because all three of the men who lived here were quite tall. Not one of them could possibly be anything shorter than six feet. I, on the other hand, was five foot four. I couldn’t even see my eyebrows in the mirror.
Matt and Andy joined us at that moment, and Matt put my duffel bag down on the floor beside the bed.
“There you go,” he said.
“Thanks.” I wanted to say something else, and perhaps express the myriad emotions swirling inside me, but words failed me.
“Get settled.” Matt's voice was authoritative. “We'll see you at dinner.”
“It's at seven,” Ben added. I nodded my understanding and they left, closing the door behind them.
Alone in this new room, surrounded by clean, pleasant, functional objects, and with a roof above my head that was unlikely to start leaking even in this rain, I was grateful. But at the same time, I felt slightly Shanghaied. I had been getting along fine by myself. I was sure that any moment now I was going to get a job offer, and then it would only be a matter of time before I could afford to pay rent.
The tent had only been a temporary measure. This would be the same. With regular access to electricity, and I guessed they had Internet too, I could find a job so much faster, and then I would be out of here.
I remembered the door downstairs, behind which lurked something I couldn't even imagine. A sex dungeon. Who even had one? It sounded like the stuff front page news in the Daily Mail was made of. I could see it now. “Three men from the Air Force found sharing same woman in seedy sex dungeon.” I would die of embarrassment.
Why did it bother me so much? Was I bothered? It was drawing my attention, but was I upset... or something else? I shook my head in an attempt to get the thought out of my mind. I had more pressing concerns, such as whether to unpack everything or not.
It would make sense to unpack things, so I could find them. On the other hand, unpacking implied I intended to stay. I did not intend to stay. Didn't want men to think I was going to. This was a house with three single men who had a special room for sex for some reason. I seriously didn't want them to believe I was happy with this arrangement.
I dug out my phone charger. When I unzipped the duffel bag, I noticed that Matt had quickly folded all the clothes I'd just dumped in there day after day. The words anally retentive came to mind. I supposed I should be grateful, but instead I felt like I'd been caught being untidy in my own domain.
I wondered what had become of my tent. Without it, even if I wanted to leave this place, I had nowhere safe to go. Whatever they done with it, I wanted it back. It was my safety net.
* * *
Bex
Feeling like I was intruding in somebody else's private home, I went to the bathroom. Or at least, I'd thought I'd opened the bathroom door, but instead I was looking into somebody's bedroom. It was painstakingly neat and tidy, Spartan to a fault, and the bedspread did not have a single ruffle. Wow. Someone was a neat freak, and I suspected it was Matt. I closed the door and tried another one. This wasn't the bathroom either, but this room was as tidy as the first room. Were they all like this? The third door I opened was the bathroom, finally. I supposed I would never find out about the other bedroom. It was probably for the best. There was such a thing as knowing too much about the people I lived with.
The bathroom smelled pine fresh. It had a sink, toilet, a large bath, and a separate shower. Against one wall, there was a freestanding rack filled with towels. Every towel was white. More unattainable perfection. Living with these three was going to be difficult. I wasn't a slob by any means, but I was not big on spending my life cleaning and tidying. I liked the controlled chaos of the house that looked lived in, and this place looked almost like a show home. It weirded me out.
Trying to tune out the nagging sense that I was bringing chaos to this orderly place, I looked at myself in the mirror. Red rimmed eyes looked back at me. I had blotchy white skin and partly-damp hair which had gone stringy as it attempted to dry.
I splashed some water over my face, hoping to calm my eyes down, so I didn't look like I'd been crying so much. My usual warm glow would take longer to return. I hadn't looked at myself properly since the fire. Another reason I didn't want to unpack my duffel bag was darker. Everything I owned reeked slightly of smoke. A constant reminder of what had happened, and who I had lost.
I needed to pull myself together. It was bad enough that I was living in someone else's house. I had to try my best to be normal. Not seeing a hairbrush, I raked my fingers through my hair in an attempt to tidy it. Deciding that was the best I could do under the circumstances, I left the bathroom and went downstairs for dinner. Something smelled amazing, and my stomach reminded me it was far too long since I'd eaten a proper meal.
* * *
Ben
“Hands off that tabasco sauce,” I grumbled, swiping at Andy’s outstretched fingers.
“But you know I like it spicier,” he replied.
“I’m using it for flavour, not heat.” I don’t know why I was explaining it to him. He wasn’t going to mess up my delicious food.
“But I like heat and flavour.”
“Get your grubby mitts away from my cooking. I don’t put water in your engine oil, do I?” I couldn’t think of a better example.
He laughed. “No. But when was the last time you were in a hangar while I was fixing a helicopter?”
“Fair point. You’re right. You shouldn’t be in this kitchen. Culinary personnel only. What’s for dinner is on a need-to-know basis. And you don’t need to know until it turns up on the dining table, plated and ready to eat.”
With that settled, I went back to my cooking, thinking that Andy would listen to me.
“Shotgun,” he said suddenly, and upended the tabasco into my pan.
“Dickhead!” I retorted, snatching the bottle off him. Not much had poured out. It was one of those glass bottles designed to stop people getting their condiments before the next ice age.
I put the lid on the bottle and stuffed it down my pants.
“Ahh. Now you can’t get it,” I teased him.
“Child.” He rolled his eyes and left. Good. Now I could focus on making a culinary masterpiece. I thought Bex looked like she needed feeding up, and she’d come to the right place. Anyway, a hearty plate of home cooking always lifted my spirits, maybe it would work for her, too. She’d had a hell of a day.
Once the meat had browned to the perfect amount, I put it on four plates. I’d tried putting the meat all on one plate to put in the centre of the dining table, once, but Andy had scoffed the lot. Today, I wanted to be sure Bex got enough to eat without having to fight ravenous servicemen to get it.
“Food’s up!” I yelled in my loudest voice.
A minor stampede happened. Three adults sat at the dining table and looked at their plates.
“This it?” Matt asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Course not, idiot. I just didn’t want Señor Tabasco to nick all the meat this time. I’m not sure Bex could fight him to get her food back.”
Her eyes widened. “Does that usually happen?”
We all burst out laughing. She seemed so serious about this.
“No, he’s having you on,” Matt replied.
I nodded. “Guilty. I’ll grab the veg.”
“Don’t forget the tabasco sauce,” Andy called after me. I ignored him.
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