by C F White
“Come in. Take a seat.” Rawlings scraped a chair over to beside his desk.
Jacob stood rigid. Unmoving. “We were to see Dr. Khan.”
“Yes. Unfortunately, he has been called away.” Rawlings sat, picked up the file and read through the notes. He didn’t give Jacob a second glance. “As you know, I am familiar with Daisy’s condition, what with being the one to repair her heart. I’m sure you will allow me to check all is in working order? I have Kwesi here as an independent witness.”
Jacob drifted his gaze to Kez. All he could do was offer up a smile. Attention back on Rawlings, Jacob held the doctor’s gaze.
“Please sit, Mr. Monroe. The sooner I check your daughter, the sooner you can leave. I hear you are quite busy at the moment, what with the move.”
Daisy beamed. “We’re getting a big house!”
“So I hear.” The doctor nodded and patted to the chair. “Come sit and tell me all about it.”
Slipping her hand from her father’s, Daisy skipped over to the chair and jumped onto it. Jacob remained where he was, frozen, as though this was the most awkward moment of his life. It probably was—Kez could feel it scratching the air.
Rawlings popped his stethoscope into his ears and held the round metal to Daisy’s chest. “How has she been?”
“Good. No problems. Not anymore,” Jacob replied to the wall.
“Energy levels?”
“She still gets a little breathless with longer exercise. Running. Jumping. That sort of thing.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Rawlings moved the circle across Daisy’s chest as she kicked her legs under the table. “Blueness?”
“When she gets out of the bath.”
“But during the day?”
“Not that I know of.”
Rawlings glanced up at the man.
“She’s only with us half the week. The rest with her mother. Ollie would have said if there was something off.”
“Oliver isn’t a doctor.”
“He’s my daddy’s boyfriend.” Daisy spoke that as if filling the doctor in with the local news. “I’m getting two daddies!” She giggled, hands over her mouth.
“Well, aren’t you both exceptionally lucky.” Rawlings threw the stethoscope to his desk and leaned back, darting his gaze to Jacob. “Do you have any concerns?”
“No.”
Rawlings smiled, tapping two fingers to his lips. “Well then, I’d say we did a good job here. The scan images show nothing out of the ordinary. We’ll still keep her on yearly checks for a while. Hopefully, next time you’ll see Dr. Khan.” Rawlings leaned forward and prodded Daisy’s nose. “You, young lady, are good to go.”
Daisy jumped down from the seat and tucked her hand into Jacob’s outstretched one. “What’s the matter, Daddy?”
“Nothing, pumpkin.” He smiled, then held Rawlings’ gaze, his stiff demeanour diminishing. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“You’re very welcome.” He span in his chair, scribbling up the notes that Kez knew would be coming his way soon enough. “Good luck with the move. Be sure to give Kwesi here your new address so we can cc you into the report.”
Jacob nodded once then tugged Daisy out of the room. As soon as they left, Rawlings let out a lungful of air, threw his pen onto the desk and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Are you okay?” Kez pushed away from the wall that had been holding him up for the entire thorny exchange.
“I think we share something, you and I.” Rawlings didn’t look at him when he spoke. “Unrequited love can be quite suffocating.”
Kez nodded. He understood. Unrequited or unavailable was the same thing. Perhaps Rawlings had invited him here to see that exchange to garner some sympathy. Some understanding of why he does the things he does. To not judge so quickly, the way Callum was always judged. Without wanting or needing to say anything more, Kez walked toward the door but stopped before exiting and, with his gaze focused on the corridor, said, “He’s missing.”
Rawlings swivelled his chair from side to side. He didn’t say anything. Kez faced him.
“He’s in trouble.” Kez heaved in a deep breath. “So, if you see him, anywhere, tell him to come home.”
Any movement was invisible to the naked eye, but Kez swore he saw an affirmative in Rawlings somewhere. He had to hope there was anyway. They’d both been stripped bare this week. The NHS wouldn’t need to send them on any teambuilding activity to strengthen their bond. He and the doctor were now forever linked by their defiant acts of desperation.
Chapter Fifteen
Home, Bittersweet Home
“It’s not that bad.” Kez winced through the delivery of that flippant statement as he waggled the stiff key out of the pristine new lock.
Eve gave him a long stare, before sighing and continuing farther down the corridor of the ground floor flat. Four months had passed in a heavy haze of indifference. Kez had focused on his work, his aunt and getting his shit together all in an attempt to not think about Callum and where he might have ended up. It had been a welcome distraction when the news of Eve being re-homed had come their way.
Stepping into the doorway, Kez dumped the suitcase on the frayed laminate flooring and watched his aunt. Eve, hands on hips, inspected the paint-peeling walls and damp corners of the low-level ceiling. Her face contorted into something Kez hadn’t seen in a while. Sadness. He couldn’t blame her. As he approached into the living room, furnished only with a fake-wooden coffee table and two armchairs, she stopped and Kez stepped up beside her.
It was that bad, certainly when compared to the place Eve had nurtured at the Marlyte Estate for twenty years. The council might have provided her with a ground-floor property in a block that stretched lengthways rather than skywards, but it wasn’t exactly a new build. It was only six floors up but hundreds along and most of the Marlyte residents were getting access to the vacant housing that had been deemed as safe, but sadly lacking in aesthetics. It was a roof though. And the council had only taken four months to sort it.
Eve sighed and faced Kez. “Maybe I should have declined the offer?”
“Why would you do that?”
“I liked staying with Grace. This could be given to someone far more needy. This just doesn’t feel very me.”
Kez gave a half-smile. It must have been hard for her. Four months of having company every day only to leave that behind to live on her own in a bare shell of a flat. Grace often had her extended family to stay, babysitting her great grandchildren, and Eve had felt her presence there was getting in the way. So she’d accepted the re-homing offer and was moving in straight away. Although the housing association had claimed it was a fully-furnished letting, the scarce surroundings weren’t as much minimalistic as non-existent. Kez made a note to buy her everything she needed. He’d max out his credit card if he had to, which he probably would.
“We’ll put a few pictures up,” Kez suggested, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I can get some of those old ones off my laptop. Get some printed onto canvas. We’ll make this place yours.”
Eve smiled, then kissed his cheek. “I brought some mugs and groceries from Grace’s. Make this old girl a cuppa, will you?”
“Sure. Take a seat. I’ll put the kettle on. After that, we’ll go shopping. Furniture shopping.”
Eve tapped his cheek, her dry hands rubbing against his growing-out stubble. He wasn’t trying to grow it out. It had happened through pure laziness and no longer seeming to care about his appearance. He’d had a few jibes about it from work colleagues, mainly Raff. Maybe after moving his aunt in, he’d consider a new start for himself.
The kitchen was the size of a shoe box. It barely fit two people in. These really were single-occupancy homes. For the elderly. For the couples without children. For the single and alone. Kez wished he could have convinced his aunt to move into his maisonette. He would have given her his room and bought himself a sofa bed to sleep on downstairs. It wasn’t as though he had any guests of a night. Not anymore. Not sinc
e Callum had left a gaping hole in that area of his life.
But the flight of steps up to the back would have been a struggle for Eve, so she’d kept declining his offers. He’d even looked into moving and getting a two-bed somewhere, but his searches only served to prove his NHS support staff wages wouldn’t stretch to anywhere other than out of the borders of London which would be a ball ache with commuting, not to mention taking Eve farther away from Grace, her friends and her church. So the ground-floor single-occupancy the council had found was the only option.
Flicking on the limescale-filled kettle and adding another piece of equipment to his ‘to-get’ list, he leaned against the tiny counter to wait. It wasn’t that bad. Lick of paint here and there, few soft furnishings, few pictures on the wall and it could be considered a home. He’d have to come round every weekend to get all that done. Especially the decorating. DIY wasn’t exactly his forte.
A sharp knock against wood caught his attention and he dipped forward to watch his aunt limp out to answer the front door. Kez couldn’t see beyond her. Eve’s whole frame was taking over the entranceway and her wrapped-on-top cornrows prevented any view from above. But his heart pounded hard nonetheless.
“Hello, Eve.”
Gulping, Kez stepped out of the box kitchen and into the corridor. He edged closer to the door on tiptoes, all while his mind told him he was wrong. I’m hearing things. It can’t be who I think it is. His mind was clearly playing tricks on him. He’d been hearing that voice in his head for so long, that he was now listening to it in daylight. It’s driving me fucking crazy! Now that voice was seeping into his reality to seal the deal and exposing his insanity.
“I’m part of the welcome committee.” The voice spoke again and it drove through Kez’s chest to capture his heart, pausing the essential beats that had been the only thing to keep him going these past four months. It took all Kez’s will to keep moving toward that door.
“Me and a few lads are offering our services to those moving in. We’ll paint what needs doing, or put up wallpaper, fix the mould spots. Any DIY. Anything you want. Name it and we’ll do it. Free of charge.”
As Kez slipped in beside Eve, his lips parted. She reached for his hand and gripped the plastic with desperation. Holding on to a bunch of brightly coloured flowers wrapped in a crunchy paper that screamed independent florist and not picked up on a whim at a supermarket, Callum stood, eyes wide, behind the door. Focussing his gaze on Kez made Callum swallow and step back, his startled expression showing he hadn’t expected Kez to be there. Well, fucking ditto!
“Callum,” Kez breathed out the name that had been on the tip of his tongue for months.
“Kez.” Callum cleared his crackling throat. “I thought you’d be at work.”
“I took the day off.”
“Right.”
“What are you—”
“Come in, Callum.” Taking hold of Callum’s arm, Eve tugged him in.
Callum staggered over the threshold, hazel eyes staring at Kez as he did so. Eve shut the door behind him and Callum held out the flowers to her, finally tearing his gaze away from searing into Kez’s soul. “For you.”
Smiling, Eve took them and sniffed. “Thank you.”
“Housewarming.” Callum shrugged, shoving his hands deep in his jeans pocket. “As I know these flats ain’t exactly welcoming.”
“You can say that again.” Eve angled her head toward the living room. “Go sit your behind in there and I’ll make the tea.”
Callum darted his gaze to Kez, probably checking to see if that would be okay with him. Kez wasn’t sure. He was numbed to the bone. He could barely think through the pounding of his heart and the consistent ringing in his ears. There was Callum. In the flesh. Not only was he alive, he was a radiating glow of health. His hair had been cut, the blond strands back to their dusky golden flecks that he’d chopped into a side brush over. Kez missed the long topknot, but Callum appeared more respectable this way. More appealing. And it was doing things to Kez’s stomach he couldn’t control, not to mention his aching groin.
“I can’t stay long.” Callum’s shoulders drooped.
Perhaps Kez’s mute status indicated that he wasn’t as welcome in the flat as the flowers were. If only Kez could get any words out, but he was too preoccupied with taming his reaction to the man before him.
“I’m over at number ten, painting Mr Aksu’s hallway.”
That was when Kez noticed the clothes Callum wore. His white overalls were splattered with all colours of paint and unbuttoned to drape open, revealing the tight-fitting T-shirt underneath. The V-neck accentuated his protruding collarbone and Kez’s fingers itched to trace that slender chest to find the metal hidden behind the thin cotton. He licked his lips.
“I’m sure you can squeeze in a little break.” Eve trotted off, sniffing the flowers again as she went.
Callum gave Kez an awkward-as-hell smile, lingering near the front door as if ready to bolt. Snapping to, Kez strode through to the living room and—miracles do happen—Callum followed and sat on the edge of one of the armchairs.
Kez paced. He had no idea what to say. There was too much to ask and he hadn’t a clue where or how to begin. Having spent the best part of four months trying to track the man down, he’d come up a blank. No one seemed to know—it was as if he’d disappeared into thin air. Kez’s fear that Callum had become another unidentified body floating in the Thames had steadily become the most logical, because someone had to have known something. Kez had risked his own life trying to find out. No one had been back to his place either. The new lock remained intact, as did the newly fitted security light.
Hanging his head, Callum stifled a chuckle. Pausing his erratic pacing, Kez stared down at him and curled his fingers around the back of the armchair facing Callum.
“What the fuck, Cal?” Kez gritted his teeth to utter the curse word as under his breath as he could whilst still allowing Callum to hear him. It was an ingrained habit from having been clipped around the ear too many times by Eve when swearing or saying the Lord’s name in vain. It wasn’t the best way to start, but what could Callum really expect?
“Sorry, but you’re real fucking sexy when you’re angry.” Callum didn’t even flinch when he said that.
Kez did. But Eve shuffled in, holding a tray that carried three piping hot mugs, a glass pot of sugar and a side plate of custard creams, to intrude on whatever that moment was. No matter how dishevelled the surroundings, Eve would always be the best hostess she could. Sliding the tray onto the coffee table, she then lowered herself into the armchair in front of Kez and nodded to the mug.
“Get some of that inside you.” Eve stirred one sugar into her tea.
Callum took one of the mugs and settled back in the seat. Realising he looked like a pillock just standing there, Kez plonked down on the arm of Eve’s chair and joined them in their cosy tea party. His jaw clenched—he wasn’t going to take a biscuit as he’d break some enamel with how hard he’d chew.
“We’re neighbours again, Aun—Eve.” Callum sipped from his mug, eyes fixed on Eve and not Kez. “I got re-homed here too. A couple days back.” He flicked his gaze to Kez. “Number twelve.”
“Oh really?” Eve tapped Kez’s knee, whether for comfort or a warning, Kez wasn’t sure. “That is good news. Be nice to have a familiar face around here, won’t it, Kwesi?”
Kez’s reply was stuck in his throat. Callum smiled, those hazel eyes sparkling with something Kez hadn’t seen in them for a long time. Perhaps there had been a brief flickering of it when they’d had that one time together back in Kez’s bedroom. Kez’s cheeks heatedand held his breath as his chest rippled. Shuffling on the armrest, he scratched at the plastic on his arm.
“I’m part of this rehabilitation group,” Callum said, breaking the silence. “It’s a charity thing. We all get a mentor.” He snorted, waving it off as if it were ridiculous. In a way, it kind of was, but Kez leaned forward and waited for the rest nonetheless. “The chari
ty gets kids off the street, away from gangs, prevent prison sentences, y’know? Education, apprenticeships, volunteering stuff. I got shoved into this social enterprise of theirs ’cause of the qualifications I got in the construction and trowel trades when I was inside. Me and the lads do painting, decorating, DIY for social housing that ain’t getting the love from the council. The borough funds most of it. And the charity puts in the rest. Run by some entrepreneur fella. Businessman. Bossman.”
“That’s great, Callum.” Eve beamed, sipping from her mug. “How did that come about?”
Callum flicked his gaze up at Kez, his cup at his lips. “I turned myself in.”
Startled, Kez bolted forward, but Eve steadied him on the seat by tapping his knee again. “You what?”
“I went to the police,” Callum replied, darting his gaze from Kez to Eve. “Well, to my parole officer. Told him what happened. With the drugs. My mum. Baz.”
Kez winced. He couldn’t look at Eve then. She hadn’t moved or offered up any expression other than that of someone listening, the way she always did in front of people. Kez hadn’t told her about Callum’s second lot of drugs. All she’d known was that Callum had disappeared. Again. Guess she knows now. Kez feared her reaction. All that stuff about forgiveness might be a distant memory, the reason he’d kept it from her. She’d only be disappointed and Kez had enough of that within himself for the both of them.
“I was taken in. Couple of weeks’ lock-up while they did the investigation.” Callum gulped down the rest of his tea. “Baz got arrested, no parole while they waited the court case. Then I got offered a deal. I give them names, they’d give me a way out.” He shrugged. “Grassing is dangerous, I know that. But it weren’t more dangerous than being dumped back out on the street, or to let them find you.” Callum hung his head. “So I did it. I gave them what they wanted in return for me to get taken on by the rehab charity. I gave evidence and after the court case, I got re-homed here as part of the deal.”
Kez’s mouth hung open. He couldn’t believe Callum had done all that by himself. Kez would have been there for him. He would have stood by him. He would have been the friend that Callum had needed the first time around. Had he not proved that? Had he really made Callum feel as though he was alone?
