Will is near to tears as he hands over a twenty pound note to the taxi driver.
In fact he’s far too close to crying to wait around for change. Responding
to the thanks with a quick nod he lugs his suitcase up the drive and glances
at the faded pink roses that line the path with their wilted petals and crisped
leaves. He knows just how they feel – desiccated, jaded and far too tired
to carry on with this farce of a life.
Digging his keys out of his pocket Will sorts through the bunch trying to find the correct one on the ring. It’s been so long since he’s used it that the brass is tarnished and he has a hard job to fit it into the lock. When he eventually opens the door the faint scent of Claire’s favourite perfume that lingers in the air is far too much for him to bear in his current jet lagged, over-emotional state and he collapses down onto a chair.
“Hi.”
Will’s startled by the voice and he reacts with that age old surge of adrenalin, jumping up to his feet fists raised ready to defend his territory – the way he should have been there to defend what was his a long time ago.
“I’m sorry,” says the quiet voice, “I’ll go. I was just trying to get the place nice for you to come home to. I know Claire’s my sister but I don’t want you hating me as well as her.”
Will flicks on the light switch and then dims it. He doesn’t want the kid to see how screwed up he is. It’s been five years since he’s laid eyes on his wife’s little brother. Five years since he last set foot in England.
While he and Claire were living together out in Dubai he was stupid enough to think she was content and even when she came home after two years having been offered her old job back he was still idiot enough to think they’d live happily ever after when his contract with the oil company was finished. How could he have been so blind? All that time she was sleeping with her boss just waiting for the bastard to make up his mind about leaving his wife and the minute he did Claire couldn’t wait to get a divorce.
Will’s all knotted up inside and so fucking angry at everyone. He throws his jacket onto the chair and kicks his suitcase over into the corner of the hall.
“I’m not stupid, Charlie, I can work it out. This is all Claire’s idea; get the house and garden looking good and then soft soap me into putting it up for sale as soon as I come home. Well it’s not going to happen. Never, you hear me.”
He slowly becomes aware that he’s shouting and the timid look on Charlie’s face shames him into calming down a little.
“She can’t have the house,” he continues in a quieter voice that sounds desperate even to his overtired ears.
There have been Marlands living in Lavendula Cottage for hundreds of years and the thought that his scheming bitch of an ex-wife could be cruel enough to try and take it off him is as painful as a knife in the guts.
“No. No, Will, honest, it was all my idea,” stammers Charlie following Will as he stalks through to the kitchen switching on the lights. “I got some food in for you and milk and there’s whiskey.”
That’s the best idea Will’s heard in a while and he takes off his shoes and socks to let the flagstones cool his aching feet as he pours a drink from the bottle on the table then grudgingly takes another glass from the dresser and splashes some liquor into it.
“You are old enough to drink?” he asks, handing the scotch to Charlie who splutters and grins and for the first time Will sees a young man instead of a little kid.
“I’m twenty three,” Charlie says, “but thanks for thinking I look like I’m under eighteen. Not.”
The shy smile is endearing.
“Why are you here?” asks Will sitting down and kicking his bare feet up onto the table. The last thing he expected was to come home and find Claire’s baby brother invading his space. Although in some ways the company is very welcome.
“I’m a gardener,” says Charlie with a satisfied look as if that explains everything. He sits down opposite Will and swirls the whiskey in his glass.
“And?” asks Will. The need to shake some answers out of the kid intensifies as each second passes by.
“First time I saw this place I fell in love with it,” says Charlie. “All beams and low ceilings and the way it always smells of woodsmoke.”
They both breathe in simultaneously and then share a burst of laughter and a subsequent smile.
“Then when you got engaged to Claire you had a barbeque here and I saw the garden...”
Charlie’s voice fades out and Will can tell he’s lost in a dream world of climbing roses and ivy.
“So you fell in love with my cottage and when your sister ran off to go live with her lover in a five bedroom executive home in Maidenhead you thought you’d appropriate it and give it some T.L.C..”
Will wants to be mad. He looks around at the old familiar kitchen with its Aga and its free standing oak cupboards that he lovingly restored six years ago and he looks out of the leaded light windows that are almost obscured by the array of herbs growing in pots on the sill and he can’t hate Charlie for sharing in his passion however much he wants to.
Pouring them both another glass of scotch Will is shocked when fingers reach out and touch the prematurely greying hair at his temples.
“You shouldn’t let Claire hurt you this much,” says Charlie, “She never deserved you.”
Will blinks back the tears that he knows are showing up all too clearly. He hates his pale grey eyes which are far too girlish for any man especially with the thick black lashes that surround them. They act like a barometer, showing the world exactly how much pressure he’s under.
“Show me what you’ve done with the garden then,” he says trying to dispel some of this huge overload of hurt.
It’s on the cusp of dusk and night and Will feels safer out in the darkness. Maybe he can hide out there and stay away from life, the universe and people in general. After all he has enough money to live on for a couple of lifetimes.
“Don’t expect too much,” says Charlie his fingers brushing over Will’s as he takes the empty glasses and places them carefully in the butler sink. “It’s been a bloody hot summer over here. All the plants are feeling sorry for themselves but I’ve done my best.”
“I’m sure you have,” says Will feeling very much at ease with the young man and as he follows on behind Charlie he’s suddenly struck by the memory of a shy little blond boy hiding behind his teddy bear who stammered horribly whenever he tried to say hello to anyone.
Expecting an overgrown patch of weeds and a few sad plants Will is stunned into silence. Charlie has transformed the cottage garden into a mish-mash of colour and greenery all tangled together in a wild conglomeration of life. The old crazy paving has been re-laid with flagstones and there’s a trickle of water leading through the shrubs and on into the orchard at the end. Gone is the lawn with its neat herbaceous borders. Gone are the marigolds and petunias and the floribunda roses with their overwhelming scent. Now it’s simple and chock full of everything and just plain perfect. Will fights to keep a hold of his emotions. If someone had looked inside his head and seen his dream garden it would be an exact replica of this.
“I shouldn’t have changed it this much. I can make it right again it’s just-” Charlie sounds terrified.
“Don’t you dare,” says Will and he wipes away the tears which are from happiness for the first time in years. “Show me everything.”
Charlie takes him by the arm and leads him around the softly illuminated garden telling him the history of every plant, where it came from and why it likes being here and as Will listens he believes that Charlie loves Lavendula Cottage as much as he does and somehow coming home doesn’t seem half so bad now.
“Thank you,” he says as they stand amongst the apple and plum trees at the far end of the garden.
It seems an incredibly inadequate thing to say and when Charlie stands lost in thought, staring down at the stream and plaiting the branches of the willow that guards the entrance to the orchard, Will tries to think of a way to put his feelings into words.
“I’m glad you’re not angry with me,” Charlie says in a quiet voice that Will can hardly hear. “I was so miserable when I overheard Mum and Dad talking about how Claire had behaved and I wanted to do something to make you happy again. I don’t understand how she could do that to you.”
“Me either,” agrees Will lying down on the grass and dipping his fingers into the cool trickle of water.
“You’re like those roses in the front, dying for a drop to drink and she never bothered to…”
“Put the hosepipe on me?”
Charlie shoves Will in a good natured way, “You’re much better off without her, you know.”
“I know.” Will’s far too agreeable tonight and he’s beginning to think the real him has gone missing somewhere between Abu Dhabi and Gatwick. The mood here is so quiet and calm that instead of this mind numbing sadness he’s been feeling since he received the divorce papers two years ago he’s actually content.
At least he was. Then from out of nowhere the heavens open and rain tumbles down in a cascade of water drenching them both.
“Bollocks,” Will yelps, getting to his feet. “Someone up there hates me.”
He falls silent when he sees Charlie who’s standing there with his arms spread wide looking up at the sky in wonder. As the rain gets heavier and heavier, the young man begins to laugh and spin like a whirling dervish with this ecstatic expression on his face and his thin cotton shirt sticking to his skin like papier-mâché.
Will catches hold of him and grips him by the shoulders. “You’re crazy, Charlie Raynes.”
“And you’re wrong, Will Marland,” says Charlie raindrops clinging to his eyelashes as he looks up at Will. “Someone up there loves you very much.”
Will doesn’t know why he kisses Charlie. It’s not the first time he’s kissed a man but it’s the best. It’s the best kiss he’s ever had from anyone.
His fingers are trembling as he unfastens each button on that translucent beige-pink shirt. Is it wrong to want to make love to your ex-wife’s little brother whom you’ve known since before he was a teenager? More to the point is it legal?
“I’m not your brother, Will. You hardly even know me.”
Up ‘til that second Will has been plagued by the past but now it’s as if it never existed. No more bitchy ex-wife. No more stammering shy boy. He wants this newly discovered Charlie who knows him better than anyone and he’s not intending to throw away this chance of some fleeting happiness over a few minor technicalities.
Stripping the wet shirt from Charlie’s body he pinches both nipples between thumbs and forefingers and licks the raindrops off the young man’s neck.
“Oh God,” moans Charlie pushing up against him as he tugs the black T-shirt over Will’s head. “Want you so fucking much.”
Will’s scared. How the hell is he gonna hold off long enough to be any use? He hasn’t had sex since Claire left him and went scurrying back to her lover in England. He’s been a faithful cuckold followed rapidly along by a useless impotent but something somewhere has changed for the better and right now he’s hard and wanting and he’s damn well gonna push all that negativity aside. It’s not as if he’s too old to fuck. Thirty one doesn’t mean he’s resigned to lonely evenings with cocoa and a good book.
Charlie’s pretty boy mouth suckles at his nipple and all the time he’s doing it he’s making these delicious little grunts that nudge at Will’s libido until he can’t wait any longer. Giving up all good sense he lets his hands and lips do the work and falls into this pool of indulgence. Fighting with the wet denim and riveted buttons Will finally wins out and when his palm curls around Charlie’s beautiful cock he knows he’s far more than content and this is far bigger than okay.
“Just waiting for me weren’t you?” murmurs Charlie in between slow passionate kisses as he thrusts his body against Will’s. “Say it. Say you were waiting for me.”
“Yeah. God yes.” Will thinks it might be true. Maybe he has come home to England to fall in love with this young man and find the elusive ‘happy ever after’ that he’s been looking for all his life.
“You came back for me,” demands Charlie his hips jerking into Will’s fist.
“Yeah, Charlie. Fuck yes. Oh fuck.”
Charlie unzips Will’s fly and when the trousers and boxers slide down his legs to mid thigh level Will growls and pushes Charlie until he ends up with his back against the willow tree. Wrapped up safe in their own private heaven Will fucks his cock against Charlie’s and they kiss and grind and kiss some more, sheltered under the canopy of branches as the rain lashes down harder than ever.
He can’t believe he’s doing this. Making love in the rain has never been his style, leastways not until two hours ago when this relative stranger walked into his life and turned everything upside down. Pushing Charlie down onto the ground until he’s lying on a bed of long wet grass Will undresses him removing trainers and half undone jeans. Then, struggling out of his own wet clothing, he twists around and straddles Charlie’s body which is all muscle and tanned skin from physical outdoor work. Leaning forward he breathes in the smell of sex and sweat and rain until Charlie’s straining upwards and whining as he tries to slide his cock in between Will’s lips.
“Please Will, please. Want your mouth, Will. Christ, Will please.”
Claire was always careful never to call out a name during sex and it’s only now Will realises why. He’s never heard his name so much before and it makes him happy and sad all at the same time and all he can do is be thankful that he’s got Charlie here to lose himself in.
Bending a little closer, Will runs the flat of his tongue over tip of Charlie’s cock then plays with the soft foreskin that rolls back exposing a swollen dark pink head. The subtle lighting makes everything glow with this ethereal quality and just for a moment Will’s terrified and on the point of running but, unable to resist Charlie’s pleading any longer, he smothers his doubts in a mouthful of cock, licking up the sweet pre-come then nuzzling and sucking and swiping his tongue in smooth strokes over the shaft until Charlie’s wriggling beneath him and - oh fuck - sucking at him now like a baby on the breast.
Rolling them over onto their sides, Will thanks God for the cushion of grass as he discovers that fucking Charlie’s mouth and sucking his cock are spiritually linked. Maybe there’s this age old sexual rule book stating that whatever you do will come back to you. Sliding his hands over Charlie’s body that’s wet and warm and smooth and strong and all those things that Will never knew he loved quite so much, he slips his arm up and round and trails a finger into the crease of Charlie’s arse and it’s as if a current of electricity passes between them. As soon as Will touches that tiny indented hole Charlie hums and swallows and pumps his cock deep into Will’s mouth and, far from being frightened, Will finds it one of the most erotic experiences of his life. Drinking down mouthfuls of semen he fucks Charlie’s throat until he comes so hard he thinks he might pass out.
Charlie turns and crawls up into his arms and Will lies on his back covered in a blanket of warm sweaty contentment stroking scruffy blond hair as he listens to the sound the raindrops make as they hit the umbrella of willow branches.
“Are you happy?” asks Charlie uncertainly his hope filled eyes raking over Will’s face.
“Yes,” answers Will truthfully after taking a moment or two to mull over the question in his head. “I think I am.”