Red Sky by Morning
Fabian Black
Copyright © Fabian Black 2011
Smashwords Edition
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Chastise Books
Cover Art by Dare Empire
Postcards From A Seaside Village
Red Sky by Morning
Lin woke from a restless sleep to find the bedroom robed in a fine dawn light. It was pleasantly warm with none of the heavy humidity that would weight the air as the day progressed. A glance at the clock told him it was twenty past five. Beyond the bedroom window nature was already in full voice with seabird calls competing with the song of garden birds, rock stars versus ballad singers.
David was still sound asleep, lying on his stomach, arms tucked under his pillow, as was his custom. His face was serene in repose, light playing along the natural tints in his light beard, something slightly more than stubble, but much less than facial hair, designer stubble as it was called.
Lin tried to regurgitate annoyance against him, but couldn't. Instead he traced a gentle finger along his jaw, feeling a swell of pride because he had a claim on this handsome man. Pride gave way to a sudden fearfulness. He often wondered what David saw in him when he could have the pick of anyone.
Getting out of bed he padded across to the window opening the blinds a touch to view the new day, which nestled under a soft blue sky streaked with broad bands of fiery red. Its beauty was tainted when an ancient suspicion popped unbidden into his head: ‘red sky by morning sailor take warning.’ His unkind mind chose to use it as a presage of doom, going so far as to replace the generic term sailor with the specific name Linval.
Anxiety clawed at his guts, seeking something to feed on. He glanced back at the bed. There was no guarantee of forever stamped on any relationship. Perhaps today would be the day David fell out of love with him. Such things happened. Real life wasn't a romance novel with a HEA stamped into the author's contract. Someone younger, nicer, better looking, more successful would come along and David would wonder why the hell he'd wasted so much time with him.
Some measure of Lin’s anxiety trickled through David’s somnolent sensibilities. He opened his eyes, murmuring. “What’s the matter, love?”
“Nothing’s the matter. It’s morning, that’s all.”
David twisted his head to look at the bedside clock, “only just and you were tossing and turning until gone two.” He rolled onto his back, holding out his arms. “Come back to bed.”
"I thought I'd go out for a run."
"Later. Come back to bed."
The annoyance Lin had sought to conjure moments earlier now came without effort, but he did as he was told, returning to bed and lying down, curling on his side with his back to David.
“What are you fretting about this early in the day?” Undeterred by the obvious rebuff David also turned on his side, spooning Lin, kissing his bare shoulder.
“Nothing.” Lin inched away from David's body.
“Untrue. You’ve got anxiety oozing out of your pores. Is it a specific anxiety or broad-spectrum undefined?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you still angry about yesterday?”
“Not much I can do about yesterday is there.”
“Not a thing, love. So there’s no use fretting and fuming. Let it go and be at peace. I have no regrets about it. Come to me, come on, turn over.” David handled Lin with ease, overcoming his resistance and settling him against his body. “Everything's all right. Close your eyes, try to sleep for a while longer. You need your rest or you'll be out of sorts all day and I've had enough of being snapped at. I'm not the enemy and I'm tired of being treated as such.”
Lin obediently closed his eyes, feeling the rise and fall of David’s chest beneath his cheek as he breathed. He tried to match the pace of his thoughts to its calm rhythm but without notable success.
His mind throbbed with a question he wanted to ask, while certain he already knew the answer, an answer he was unwilling to accept. He gave a low sigh, trying to think of ways of posing the question so it sounded the right note, a note he'd hitherto failed to convey. One that would convince David it was time to reopen The Venus because he was now composed enough to resume his duties.
David was well aware of the turmoil going on in Lin’s mind, reflected in the growing tension of his body. He was sympathetic, but also resolute about the way things were going to be played out. He used plain words. “You know the score, there's no change.”
Lin suppressed a rise of temper as his question was answered without him even getting a chance to voice it aloud. He cleared his throat, trying to sound unruffled. “Ease up, David. It’s Saturday. Let me open even if it's only for the morning session. I can manage coffee and cakes. We might as well jump on the bandwagon of extra trade before it pulls away.”
Despite his best intentions a note of tremulous excitement crept into his voice. “I could put some of my books on sale. I’ve got a box leftover from the last print run. I bet they’ll be snatched up now, especially if I sign them. People love signed copies. What do you think?”
“I think you’re not listening to me.”
“Is there something wrong with my books, don’t you think they’re good enough to sell anymore, is that what you’re telling me?”
David refused to rise to the bait. “I've suggested any number of times we offer a range of your books for sale in The Venus and you've always said you're running a restaurant not a book shop. If you've changed your mind it's something we can think about at a later date.”
The words didn't soothe Lin's temper. “I don't want to think about it at a later date. I want to reopen this morning. And by later date what exactly do you mean? Next week, next month, some time never?”
“Enough.” David patted a cautionary hand to Lin’s bottom.
“The Venus has been closed for three nights. You’ve more than made your point.” Lin rolled away from David to lie on the far edge of the bed. “I’ve been punished enough for what I did.”
“Just as it’s for me to decide if a point needs to be made, so it’s for me to decide when the point has been made.”
Placing his hands behind his head, David studied the bars of white gold light rippling across the walls and ceiling as the inquisitive sun poked through the vertical blind slats. “It’s also for me to determine when you’ve been punished enough. Though as well you know this isn’t purely a case of punishment.”
“Bloody feels like it.”
“Only because you’re determined to view it as such. You're not in the right frame of mind to resume cooking for the public. Your attitude is exactly the same as it was on Wednesday when you tried to go behind my back and open for business when I'd said no.”
David sat up, all sleepiness gone. He didn’t enjoy seeing Lin miserable and angry, but he would weather it. His behaviour on Wednesday had shown he needed a strong reminder about who held seniority in their relationship and how serious the consequences of forgetting or ignoring it could be.
If another restaurant did open nearby it was especially important for Lin to be clear about who had the final word on matters, because given half a chance he would go all out to compete and keep ahead. He’d already begun the process. It was the only reason he wanted to reopen The Venus, not for the joy of cooking, but because he was obsessing about keeping one step ahead of his, as yet, imaginary rival.
There'd be no pleasure in the activity, only stress. His temper would shorten because things weren’t matching the model of perfection in his head. Every single thing he produced in the kitchen would be held against something this 'other chef' might produce, and be found wanting. It would also likely be found splattered over the kitchen walls. His tension would transfer from the kitchen and affect everyone from Lucy to the customers.
Lin tried another tactic. "Apart from anything else," he twisted his head to look at David, "it isn't fair on Lucy. She's saving up for driving lessons and a car. She needs the money. If her dad's illness does progress to a stage where he'll need to use a wheelchair then her having transport is vital, to get him to the hospital for his appointments."
"Lucy isn't losing out. The Venus being closed hasn't affected her wage. She's still doing the general cleaning and what she's missing by working in the restaurant she's making up in other ways. She cleared the backlog of ironing while we were away yesterday. If anything she's earning more because Harry has given her some evening work in the bar of The Golden Lion."
"You play more fair with the hired help than you do with me. If we stay closed much longer I'll lose my touch. Is that what you want, for me to be second best? I have to keep on top of my craft, especially if another chef does move in on my patch."
After uttering another silent, heartfelt prayer for a carpet company to have bought the old chapel, David reaffirmed his position. “The Venus is closed until I say otherwise. You may not like it, but you will accept it. I'll reconsider the matter when I'm satisfied your attitude has changed.”
“You're being a total pig over this.”
“I can be a much bigger pig.” David glanced at the resentment stiffened back. “If you continue to fight and snipe at me then be warned I’ll consider augmenting my decision with something more than words, do you understand?”
"Yes." Lin abruptly sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m going for a run before it gets too hot. If that’s all right with your majesty of course?”
“Go if you think it will give your mood a lift. Make sure you stay well away from the seawall and the chapel. Standing staring at them won't solve anything, it will simply hype you up further." He stretched out a hand, only to touch air as Lin stood up, moving out of the path of the caress. He too got up, pulling on boxerbriefs to cover his nakedness. “You’ll need something to eat before you go.”
“I can’t run with a full stomach and I’m not hungry anyway, so you might as well stay in bed.” Lin dragged a t-shirt over his head.
“I’m up now. I’m not suggesting you partake of a full English breakfast, just something light to give you some energy and stop you passing out when your blood sugar drops like a stone. Be sure and put plenty of sun block on before you go out. It might be early but there’s already heat in the sun.”
Lin pulled a face, but didn't comment, stalking off to the bathroom to pee.
Putting on a pair of shorts David made his way downstairs to the kitchen, turning on the radio to catch the day’s headlines. He filled the kettle and plugged it in.
Looking out of the window into the sunny garden he watched in amusement as an irate sparrow soundly scolded a large black-headed gull for having the temerity to splash around in its birdbath. He loved this place, never ceasing to marvel how well he’d adapted to a slower pace of life. Not for a moment did he regret leaving the rush, grime and noise of life in the city. He could pretty well keep in touch with his business interests via the Internet without having to go into a stuffy office every day.
He caught sight of Henry striding purposefully down his garden path, attired in baggy pyjamas patterned with a broad horizontal stripe. They reminded David of the cartoon villains depicted in children’s comics. All Henry needed was an eye mask and a bag with SWAG emblazoned across it.
No doubt he was on his way for an early morning confab with his beloved bees and no doubt they'd issue him with a weather report. In the wake of his own odd experience on the day of the storm, which he had kept to himself, David was more respecting than ever about the bees, and Henry's, capabilities. In his own case he didn’t need the local weather sage to tell him the forecast for his day was likely to include some choppy seas.
Lifting a banana and a kiwi from the fruit bowl he peeled and chopped them into a small glass dish, setting it on the table. The fruits wouldn’t be too heavy on Lin’s stomach, but would give him some fuel to run with.
The kettle boiled with a fanfare of steam and he poured the water into the teapot, briskly stirring a spoon around the contents to hasten brewing before putting the lid on, grimacing, as he heard a mental echo of Lucy’s scandalised voice when she had first observed him perform this atrocity. ‘Ee, Mr Jordan, you mun never stir tea like that. It has to mash natural or you won’t get the true flavour.’ He had humbly apologised for his ignorant southern ways, but habit usually won out and he stirred instead of allowing it to 'mash' naturally.
Setting the pot on the table he slipped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster for his own breakfast. As he waited for it to toast he gently flexed his right knee back and forth. It was stiff, the ligaments strained as a result of the storm drama. His foot still ached too, though he couldn't help but admire the glorious array of colours as the dense bruising faded from black and purple to greens and yellows. It was rather magnificent in its own way, a trophy of a traumatic event.
Red Sky by Morning
Sitting on the bottom stair lacing his running shoes, Lin listened to the sounds of domesticity coming from the kitchen, accompanied by the low voice of the radio. David automatically switched it on as soon as he walked into the kitchen of a morning, twiddling and fiddling if the reception was poor, turning it off he couldn't get his favoured BBC stations.
Lin sniffed. He preferred the commercial radio stations specialising in trashy gossip and trashy music rather than the staid, last bastion of the establishment, tones of radios three and four, which he found faintly intimidating. The well-educated voices of the presenters made him feel somehow inferior, perhaps by reminding him of his own humbler socio-economic origins, an anomaly in a society that claimed to no longer adhere to such boundaries. It was rubbish of course. Society was still run by an elite. If there were true equality you'd hear presenters with regional accents presenting classical music programmes or leading a debate on radio four.
Even 'The Archers' the radio four soap so beloved by David, a supposed tale of everyday farming folk, had more a twang of gentleman landowner than muck encrusted farmhand about it, to Lin's senses anyway. The actors could ‘ooh-arr’ as much as they liked, but they still sounded like Oxbridge graduates underneath it. To his mind the BBC still operated a system of jobs for the boys, even the beverage vending machine had probably been at school with the producer’s son.
David had laughed when he said this, accusing him of inverted snobbery based in some imagined inferiority, which might or might not be true, depending on what mood Lin was in when the subject came up for discussion.
Getting to his feet Lin braced his hands against the wall to perform a few token warm up stretches, sour thoughts giving his mind cerebral indigestion.
Sometimes he suspected David of being a secret war baby, one that had had extensive plastic surgery to maintain a youthful façade, behind which lurked a well heeled man in late middle age with all the accoutrements of the state: multiple business interests, a love of the Financial Times, tea drinking, radio four and The Archers.
Though to be fair, Lin conceded a point, when they brought in gay characters he had taken more of an interest in the show, he as much as David being glued to the episode featuring the first gay radio kiss in British broadcasting history. Not that he approved of the use of sexual orientation to draw an audience. It didn’t denote true acceptance. It was cynical exploitation to up ratings and if anyone knew about exploitation and ratings he did.
David had put on his paternal hat and wagging a stern finger at Lin told him he was always looking for something to be righteously angry about. He said it was his kind of attitude that kept people suspicious and hostile towards one another. Some progress on the same sex front was better than none. It represented a weakening of barriers and a step closer to a world where the only thing to matter when two people kissed was not the gender of those doing the kissing, but the fact two people were in love.
The mini lecture didn't end there. It was hard to stop David when he was in full flow. He could lecture for Britain. He also said tolerance was a two way street, which everyone needed to learn to walk across, and some gay men and women viewed the straight community with as much contempt and intolerance as sectors of the straight community viewed them. They didn't want to be a part of it, but recognised as elite, something special and superior to it.
Lin shot a haughty glance in the direction of the kitchen. Sometimes his man had far, far too much to say on any given subject. Hoisting up his shorts and straightening his top he strode down the hall. Stuff breakfast! He plucked his sunglasses off the mahogany sideboard and put them on. The Dominator couldn’t have everything his own way. It wasn’t good for him.
He made sure to let the front door bang behind him, launching immediately into a brisk sprint rather than a slow jog.
Red Sky by Morning
The slam of the front door coincided with the toaster giving up its contents in its usual flamboyant manner. Catching the toast before it hit the floor David dropped it onto a plate before hurrying down the hall, but it was too late. The narrow cobbled street outside Sandstones was empty. It was pointless going after him. By the time he got his shoes on Lin, obstinate man, would be well away. Shutting the front door he went back to the kitchen, wearing a look on his face the locals would term ‘proper narked.’
Buttering the toast he put it on a tray along with a pot of tea carrying it down the hall towards the snug, their private sitting room.
The letterbox clattered, heralding the arrival of the morning papers, just as he set the tray down on the coffee table. "Excellent timing." He spoke the words aloud and went to collect the papers, frowning as he saw a renegade red top tabloid, The Daily Starr, had somehow found its way into the pile of more sedate newspapers.
There was no doubt in his mind as to who was responsible for the publication being there, Aiden Crooks, local paperboy and all round pest. He'd probably slipped it into the delivery on purpose to wind up Lin. His way of getting revenge for the punishment his father had imposed on him after the live crab incident. He'd been made to make a personal apology to Lin, no easy task in itself, and also had his personal leisure time curtailed for a month.
David's face darkened with angry distaste at the snide side heading on the front page: 'Disgraced Chef and Rich Toy Boy Lover in Storm Drama.' Turning to the page containing the full story he began to read, his disgust deepening.
The main focus of the story was not on storms, not present ones anyway. It was a lurid rehash of the New Year's Eve when Lin's celebrity star had imploded, all but killing his career. He had cracked up on live television, giving way to the nervous breakdown that had been stalking him for years.
It had been a shocking event, made more so by the media furore that followed. The tabloids had a field day. They had crucified Lin with their printed lies and rumours. None of them had sympathy for a sick man or respect for his privacy as he struggled to cope with illness.
David's eyes brightened with tears at the memory of Lin's emotional fragility, his unhappy confusion and fear in the aftermath of it all. The worst of it was he hadn't been scheduled to do the show in the first place. He was approached at the eleventh hour when the original presenter had to pull out after a car accident.
He had been furious when Lin accepted the job without discussing it with him first. He was unwell to begin with and David was worried about him. He'd worked exhaustive hours over the Christmas period, including Christmas Day, dashing from one restaurant and venue to another, barely having time to draw breath, serving everyone's interests but his own. Gaunt and jittery he desperately needed a rest.
They were supposed to be going away for New Year. It was to be an opportunity to relax and discuss their relationship. David wanted them both to prune back on work and spend more time together, to fully consolidate as a unit. He was sick of them passing like ships in the night.
There were days when he didn't see Lin at all. After working until some ungodly hour in the swish and fashionable restaurant where he was head chef he would often crash out in the sparse flat above the premises, rising a couple of hours later to begin another absurdly long shift.
Lin argued they could still go away. He would do the live shoot and that would be it, he'd take a holiday if only to stop David nagging.
Lin had a compulsion to work, his way of proving his worth. He feared saying no to extra shifts or turning down jobs would lead to disapproval and him being sidelined as a consequence. The restaurant trade was a tough one in all respects but especially so in the kitchen where cooks creative egos vied for attention. Rivalry was rife with someone always waiting to take your place and claim recognition.
David understood. He also understood that Lin needed to let go a little or he would break, as indeed he did. He would forever regret not laying down the law and forbidding him to do the New Year's Eve shoot.
Of course the gutter press had no interest in the story behind Lin's collapse. It wouldn't sell papers to the baying mob that revelled in seeing someone with a public persona brought down and torn apart, especially an edgy persona like Lin's with its complex mix of vinegar and sugar. They didn't want to know about the people who had exploited and manipulated him for years, tapping his talents, playing his weaknesses, tying him into work contracts he couldn't escape from, driving him to the point of meltdown.
Kenny Steen contributed to the process. He had never been a true friend to Lin, though he had pretended for a while. He took Lin's advice, learned aspects of his craft from him, used his influence and contacts and then set out to usurp him. They ended up hosting rival cooking shows. Another stress entered Lin's life in the form of ratings and whose show was getting the most viewers.
Kenny was co-host of the fateful New Year's Eve show and David would never forget or forgive his unconcealed delight as a tired and unprepared Lin fumbled and floundered. He wasn't used to live television. His shows were usually pre-recorded, with all the bumpy bits edited out. It was obvious he'd had a drink to steady his nerves and, as David later discovered, he'd mixed the drink with amphetamines. He'd been using them secretly for weeks in an effort to keep his exhausted mind and body functioning.
Kenny milked the situation at Lin's expense, playing to the cameras and the studio audience. Lin finally twigged the cameras were swinging more to Kenny than to him. The realisation he was being mocked was the catalyst. He erupted, knocking Kenny out cold with a powerful rage-fuelled punch to his face, breaking his nose in the process. He lashed out at a cameraman and wrecked the studio kitchen hurling abuse and cooking paraphernalia at the shocked audience and floor crew before running sobbing off set.
David had not been in the audience or on set. He was at home packing cases in preparation for the holiday he was determined Lin would have. He planned to pick him up from the studio and drive straight to the airport. It didn't happen.
He got a panicked call from the studio floor manager to say Lin had barricaded himself in his dressing room and was refusing to respond. David got there as fast as he could, but not fast enough to prevent a distraught Lin from overdosing on the pills he'd been using. He ended up in an ambulance instead of an aeroplane.
Kenny showed no mercy towards his stricken rival. He pressed assault charges, putting Lin through the misery and humiliation of arrest and a public court case, winning substantial compensation, as well as invaluable publicity, which escalated his fame. The cameraman also demanded his pound of flesh and even some members of the studio audience jumped on the bandwagon. They sued Lin and the show's producers, claiming compensation for things such as food damage to clothes and 'emotional trauma.'
Bloody parasites! David curled his lip. At the time he had owned the television company who had a hand in producing the show and had settled the claims out of court.
The nightmare persisted. People whom Lin had thought were friends or at least loyal colleagues waded in with unsavoury and exaggerated 'revelations' about his explosive temper tantrums, drinking and drug taking. The tabloids were only too happy to pay out for such stories regardless of their basis in reality.
The conglomerate who owned the restaurant Lin worked in decided to 'let him go' in the wake of negative publicity. David's lip again curled contempt. He had worked his fucking balls off for them, creating a phenomenal restaurant with an award-winning menu. People booked tables months in advance. They had used his talents, used his fame and public face to their own advantage and then discarded him in his hour of need.
Bastards, all of them! Crushing the paper into a ball David took it into the kitchen and shoved it to the bottom of the waste bin like the trash it was. He tied up the liner and took it outside, throwing it into the main bin. No way did he want Lin reading it. He'd be having a few words with master Crooks about delivering the paper. Washing his hands he wished he could rid his mind of the ugly words as easily as he could rid his skin of the ink used to print them.
Settling back down on the sofa in the snug he flicked through the Financial Times as he breakfasted, keeping an ear tuned for Lin returning from his run.
He soon gave up pretence of absorbing the news printed on the sheets spread around him. Squeezing the last of the tea from the teapot into his cup he put his feet up on the coffee table and leaned back against the sofa cushions, sorting through a mixed bag of thoughts.
Was he being too heavy handed with Lin, perhaps even mean? He tapped the thin rim of the china cup against his bottom teeth. Should he allow the bistro to open for Saturday morning business? The doubt vanished quicker than it had come. Drinking off the tea he put the cup down with a decisive clink. Today was not the right day to reopen, not in the circumstances. It would be a tinderbox situation and he wasn't prepared to risk it.
Stanes got busy enough in the summer months, especially when the sun shone with such rare constancy. Given the press exposure it would be busier still. If The Venus opened you could bet your boots it would be packed to the doors with the curious who had come hoping to catch a glimpse of the infamous Linval Larkin.
They'd be run off their feet trying to fulfil orders. Lin would refuse to take a break and refuse to let Lucy or him help in any way that mattered. He'd gallop between kitchen and bistro trying to keep abreast of things, hoping someone would ask for his autograph. A broad grin broke out on David's face. Lin so loved being asked for his autograph, it appealed to his vanity and his need to feel important.
The smile disappeared and David pushed a hand through his short dark hair. Someone was bound to be rude enough to make reference to events best forgotten. The shit would hit the fan and he'd have to step in and stop Lin punching them or them punching Lin and before you knew it there'd be police involved and another round of legal battles. Nope. The door of The Venus was staying firmly bolted.
Gathering his breakfast pots together he took them to the kitchen to wash, while mentally cursing whatever forces had sent the damn storm and its irksome consequences their way.
In itself the storm wouldn't have mattered. It would have remained as a snippet of soon forgotten news on local radio and regional morning telly. However, fate decreed that a reporter from the local rag got scent of the human drama played out on the sand below Stanes' great cliffs. Such stories made good fillers and helped sell hard copy. He sought affirmation of events.
David had taken his phone call and knowing all too well how the media wheel turned had issued a simple account of events. He then politely declined to comment further or to be photographed and interviewed in person.
Others in the village were less reticent. News travelled fast in a small community and plenty knew about the happenings on the beach on Wednesday evening. The story appeared in the Thursday teatime edition of the local paper.
By Friday morning the embellished tale of 'the Yorkshire tsunami, near death and brave actions' had caught the interest of national tabloid hacks, mainly because of Lin's involvement. Notoriety was not easily shaken off and his name was well remembered. Media people came flocking to Stanes like seagulls to a sewage spill.
Lin had been wildly excited when the phone started ringing with demands for statements and interviews. Eyes sparkling he had all but danced with joy. His mind bubbled with possibilities. They flowed from his mouth in a surge as overwhelming as the wave that had almost swept him away.
It would be fabulous promotion for The Transit of Venus and for him too. It was the road back to fame. It was his chance to redeem himself in the eyes of the public. People loved heroes, even gay ones. It would lead to the offer of a television show again, perhaps shot from the kitchen of The Venus, which of course would have to be redecorated, along with the miniature restaurant itself.
The thought of revenge made his fetching hazel eyes gleam still brighter. He’d make the nasty fish bar that Kenny Steen broadcast from look like the tasteless slum it was.
Best of all it would give any prospective rival second thoughts about competing with him on his home turf. They wouldn’t stand a chance, not once he got his face back on the small screen. They'd withdraw their offer to buy the chapel and it would go back on the market for them to buy and develop into another restaurant. He'd even named it. It was to be called 'Cook's Endeavour,' to mark Stane's association with the great explorer. It had a wonderful ring about it and a kind of double meaning.
David sighed as he remembered the events of the day before. He had taken Lin's face between his hands and gently told him there would be no contact with the press whatsoever. Because as sure as flies liked shit they'd pay lip service to the storm and turn their attentions to raking over the coals of the past, and not with the intention of making any better of it either.
The newspaper report he'd just read proved the point and confirmed he'd taken the right course of action.
They'd torture Lin all over again and David wasn't having it. He had a duty of care towards him, which included making decisions for him when he wasn't thinking clearly enough to make wise choices on his own behalf. He'd failed him once, but never again.
Lin had of course argued and then pleaded, claiming he was more than able to field questions unrelated to the storm, but David stood firm. He would not give the press a chance to reawaken old hurts or poke and probe into their private life. They were going to maintain a low profile and a dignified silence.
There was nothing dignified about Lin's response. He made known his disenchantment in consonants and vowels of less than complimentary construction. The verbal tantrum took a physical turn when his frustration manifested in a childish attempt to pull David's hair. It was bad behaviour and it didn't go unpunished.
Taking the basin containing the washing up water out into the garden David shared it between a potted pink azalea and a large tub of aromatic garden mint, both were flagging under the heat of the sun.
He went upstairs to shower and dress while trying to think of pleasant, distracting things he and Lin could do together over the weekend. If Lin refused to be pleasantly distracted and insisted on acting like a recalcitrant brat then he'd pack him off to bed to sulk the day away between the sheets.
Red Sky by Morning
Running at a hard pace Lin barely noticed the physical landscape around him as he pounded on by. He was too busy with the thoughts tumbling around in his head.
He hadn’t minded the restaurant being closed the day after the storm. They had needed the time to be quiet together and recover from their frightening experience. Besides, Lin couldn't have cooked even if he'd wanted too. He was as shaky as a heroin addict in need of a fix. He could barely hold a cup, let alone a filleting knife. Damn his stupid bloody nerves.
David had called Lucy and told her not to come into work. He did intend to tell her why, but she saved him the bother. She already knew courtesy of village drums. The story of yon queer fellas battle with the elements was travelling fast. They had then spent much of the day in bed, cuddling, kissing, making love, reading and talking over the events of the day before.
Lin had woken up on Friday morning feeling much better and with the expectation of everything being back to normal. It wasn’t. The Venus was to remain closed for a third day. He hadn’t expected David to continue to be so severe and was shocked. The closure was made even harder to bear because of certain developments.
Lin scowled at the memory of good opportunity thrown away. Stanes had been crawling with sightseers, reporters and television crews. He could have had The Venus open all day and night and his face on news programmes across the country. It was publicity that couldn’t be bought or stage-managed, and it would have been one in the eye for stinking fish-face Kenny Steen.
Despite reasoned arguments, followed by shameless pleading, David remained loyal to the decision he had made. They were not going to feed the media animal because it was a savage and uncontrollable beast and it would turn on them.
Reasoned arguing and shameless pleading had given way to a burst of infantile fury. His face heated as he recalled lunging for David's hair. Of course he regretted it. His jeans and briefs were yanked down in a heartbeat. David had thrust him over the back of the sofa in the snug and walloped a stinging injunction onto his bare arse. If he couldn't speak in a pleasant and civil manner then he was to be silent and speak only when spoken to.
Lin reckoned he had deserved the spanking, but he still thought he didn't deserve what happened next.
He was packed into the car and driven away from Stanes for the day. They’d ended up in Harrogate, the most boring fucking town on the planet. The place where the ultra conservative, tweed-suited, twin set and pearl people went to die. It was full of exquisite antique shops and genteel tearooms. It had quaint gift shops and elegant old houses. Even the municipal gardens were beautifully laid out with impeccable grassed areas and immaculate colour coordinated flowerbeds.
The entire town reeked of unfriendly aloofness and was tagged with notes of snooty prohibition: do not touch the antiques, do not disturb other patrons by speaking too loudly, breakages must be paid for, do not walk on the grass, do not pick the flowers.
It made Lin long to daub finger marks all over the polished furniture in the antique shops, speak loudly and in detail about gay erotica in a tea shop, break things in a gift shop and refuse to pay for them, and as a grand finale trample all over the lawns and flower beds hurling dahlias and pansies hither and thither. He said as much to David who reminded him he hadn’t been spoken to and therefore he was to be quiet.
By the time they had returned home late last evening, media interest had been sated and the press had moved on in search of fresh titbits and newer juicier scandals. Lin's chance to reclaim fame had passed. He had wept. David had comforted him, pulling him into his arms and cuddling him, sorry for his sadness but in no way regretful of the choices he had made on his behalf.
A sharp stitch in his left side interrupted Lin's thoughts and brought him to a halt. Pressing a hand to the painful area he leaned forward getting his breath back. He'd come a good distance, running all the way up the long steep bank to the hill above the village.
Collapsing on the ground he drew up his knees and rested his back against the sun warmed wooden post of the 3 Miles to Brunswick Bay sign.
Taking off his sunglasses he wiped sweat from his eyes, gazing down on a red and grey canopy of rooftops. They were liberally iced with seagull droppings; some more than others, whether by personal bird preference or random forces, such as wind direction, there was no way of knowing.
It was early, but already a heat haze was forming over the scene, bleaching the view. It muted primary tones, turning them to pastels, softening edges and blurring lines.
This had been his favourite place to sit when he was a child and had a fancy to daydream some time away. It had lost none of its appeal. It still had the best view of Stanes, made better because it didn’t take in the modern additions, such as the eye repelling sea defence work.
It was an ageless view stretching back through history. He could imagine Captain Cook looking down on this same scene when he was a shop boy in Stanes, watching the white tipped waves coming in between the great cliffs of Cowbar Nab, and Old Nab, never imagining the legend he was to become, or how he would die a violent death so far away from the shores of his native country.
Lin had chosen to name his first, and only, restaurant in honour of Cook’s epic journey to Tahiti to observe and record the astronomical phenomenon known as The Transit of Venus. It was such a beautiful name for a rare natural occurrence. Lin had loved it from the moment he read about it as a schoolboy.
The Transit of Venus, he would repeat the words in his head over and over again. As a working teenager they became a comfort mantra, something he focused on when life was hard and lonely. He used them as a title to create romantic fantasies around. It helped him get through long hard hours of menial work. The fantasies also helped him in his own transit of self-discovery. Venus insisted on turning into Mars. He lusted and longed for a god in his life rather than a goddess.
Captain Cook had inspired him, not to become a cook, that was just a kind of accidental irony, but because he worked his way up from humble origins, a nobody who became a Commander and famous explorer.
Lin sighed. There were no great adventures left. It had all been done and any that might remain had no magic about them. He picked a broad blade of grass, splitting it with his thumbnail, releasing its juice, inhaling its clean green scent. The human race knew too much, felt too little and was riddled with corporate cynicism. These days magic was just something electronically manufactured by the film industry, or perhaps that was just his personal cynicism speaking through a bad mood.
Wrapping his arms around his legs, he rested his chin on his knees and closed his eyes, listening to the scene instead of looking at it. It was a calming lullaby. He could hear the ocean breathe in and then out again, accompanied by the omnipresent orchestra of gulls nesting in the cliff tops. The rhythmic click of crickets sounded from the grass around his feet.
An odd note entered the tune and Lin strained to identify it, then smiled as he recognised the soft grunt of pigs from the stock farm in the fields behind him. A slight hint of their odour tainted the still air.
He was tired after his run. He was also light-headed and nauseous. He should have eaten something, or at least had the sense to bring a bottle of water out with him to slake his thirst and fill some portion of the emptiness in his gut.
He experienced a sudden urge to curl up in the scrub and go to sleep, like he used to when he was a little boy and the long walk up the steep slope of Chapel Street had tired him. He wasn’t a small child now though. The long grasses would not curl over his body and form a protective awning until his grandmother came puffing up the hill to find him and take him home to his mother.
It would be unwise indeed to sleep outside without hat and skin protection. Not least because David wouldn’t hesitate in making known his opinion of such foolhardiness. The heat left by the sun on exposed areas of his skin would be duplicated on certain unexposed areas.
The re-introduction of David into his thoughts brought a downward curve to his mouth. He could be such an intractable man. There was no persuading him when he'd set his mind to something.
Putting his sun specs back on, Lin got to his feet. Leaning his left hand on the moss scabbed post he used the other to pull his right heel up against his buttock in a half-hearted quad stretch, repeating with the other leg, deciding he was too hot and tired to bother with anything more complex or energy consuming. He set off again at a light jog, heading on to Brunswick and then turning and retracing his journey.
Red Sky by Morning
By the time he got to the bottom of the hill and onto the sea front, Lin was drenched in sweat and his right knee was fiercely aching. He should have put a support on before running, but his vanity turned its nose up at the thought of unsightly bandages spoiling the aesthetic line of his leg.
He leaned against the esplanade rails to rest a moment and catch his breath before going home. His stomach cramped as he looked across the beach and spied the toppled mass of rock that had once made up part of the towering cliff face. He and David had almost been buried beneath it as the storm raged about them.
He forced his eyes to travel beyond the fallen rocks, bringing them to rest on the Devil’s Pier. Removing his sunglasses he cleaned them with the hem of his t-shirt before putting them back on.
The seawall looked no better for being viewed through polished lenses. Lin frowned, biting at his lower lip, trying to overcome his animosity. He should feel grateful towards it. After all it had done its job well and shown itself to be a powerful guardian of the landscape. It had broken the force of the wave, protecting the ancient cottages clustering the base of the cliffs, and preventing yet more of them from being swept out to sea only to return as flotsam and jetsam.
Animosity deepened and the sticky sweat on his body turned to ice crystals as his mind flashed back to the malevolent wave confronting him as he stood at the end of the seawall. He wrapped his arms about his body, hugging himself. It was unreasonable and childish, but he felt the wall had conjured the wave on purpose to test its own prowess, disregarding of whether he was killed. Maybe it wanted him to die.
On impulse Lin climbed over the esplanade rails, striding across the sand, ignoring not only David's instructions, but also the hazard tape rigged around the base of the cliff, warning the public danger still lurked there. Lifting the tape he slipped under it, negotiating Jurassic boulders to reach the debris littered stone steps leading up and onto the wall.
Once there he hesitated, closing his eyes for a moment, taking deep breaths, fighting the panic he could feel taking a hold of him. He had to do this, by himself, like a man. If he didn't then this inanimate enemy would have scored a point against him, more than a point.
It would have proved it had a right to be part of the environment, more right than he had, he who had crouched upon it witless with fear. Bloody great useless, stupid coward he was. His weakness had caused David to be drawn into danger.
Lin took the first step, and then the second. He placed a foot on the third, and could go no further. His chest constricted, squeezing the air out of his lungs and refusing to let it back in again. The pounding thud of his heartbeat assaulted his eardrums. Fear-loaded beads of perspiration rolled down his back, transmitting alarm messages from nerve ending to nerve ending, spreading the length and breadth of his body. For a moment, he thought he was going to black out.
A spray of loose soil and small stones from the cliffs above suddenly pattered the ground around him, causing his heart rate to accelerate still higher. A surge of reckless anger spurred him onto the third step where he stood in defiance, refusing to be bullied by the landscape.
Defiance didn't last. Another spit of soil and grit, some of which peppered his hair and shoulders, brought a return of fear causing his empty stomach to push up into his gullet, making him dry wretch. He capitulated, hurrying back to the safety of the esplanade on legs almost too weak to support him. Climbing up the little slipway from the beach he jumped as someone addressed him.
“Eyup, Mr Larkin, you all right? You look fair whemmled ower.”
It was Jeff Tonkin, attired in camo shorts and t-shirt in concession to the great heat, but still wearing his big black, tightly laced boots. He was sitting at the top of the slipway, a faded baseball cap protecting his head from the sun. He was smoking one of his roll ups, its thick cloying scent hanging on the warm air. There were things grown on Jeff’s allotment that he wisely kept quiet about and used only for his own enjoyment.
“I’m fine, thank you, Jeff.” Lin wiped his clammy hands down the side of his shorts trying not to sound irritable. He would have preferred not to speak to anyone. “You’re up and about early.”
Jeff nodded his head towards the little terrier scrabbling amongst a pile of crab pots. “Florrie likes to have a snuffle about before it gets too crowded.”
He waved his cigarette in the direction Lin had come from, utilising a tone of voice reserved for admonishing children. “Thems right dangerous them steps are, Mr Larkin, that’s why they’re roped off. You shouldn’t get too close. The cliff hasn't settled yet and it's liable to come crashing down on your ruddy head.”
“Thank you for that nugget of hand rolled wisdom, Jeffery, but there’s no one more aware of that fact than I am. And by the way,” Lin poked his sunglasses back up his sweaty nose. “Those sunflowers you sold us last week had black fly. Infested they were. I’ll be expecting some discount next time you call.”
“Black fly, my arse,” muttered Jeff as he watched Lin stalk back along the esplanade towards the Crab and Lobster pub, disappearing around the corner on his way back home. He tickled Florrie’s ears as she came to investigate what he was muttering about. “Needs a bloody good skelping does that one sometimes.”
Florrie barked agreement. Lin was one of the few people on her master’s round who never made a fuss of her or offered her titbits, not that she liked fish over much, but it would be nice to be asked.
Lin’s countenance darkened further when he reached Sandstones and clocked the notice board with its denial of service message. Stepping into the broad hall he closed the door with a violent thrust, causing the board to jump and clatter back against the wood.
Ignoring David’s call of greeting from the snug, he dropped his sunspecs on the sideboard and took the stairs two at a time. Throwing the bedroom door closed he went into the bathroom to shower.
Red Sky by Morning
David tut-tutted, as the only reply his call of greeting received was the sound of heavy footsteps on stairs. The run hadn't improved Lin's mood any.
Finishing the email he was composing he sent it, logged off the computer and went upstairs.
Lin was in the ensuite bathroom. He had the shower running full and fast so the water sounded an angry note, reflecting his disposition. David tried the door, but it was locked. Fetching the white wickerwork wastebasket from a corner of the bedroom he sat on the bed and cleaned his shaver. He'd been meaning to do it for days.
Lin emerged from the shower just as he was putting the cleaned and reassembled shaver back into its case. He set it aside and held out his hand. "Give me the towel. I’ll dry you.”
“I can manage.” Lin wiped the towel between his legs, drying around his balls.
“Suit yourself. The need to shower must have been an urgent one. You apparently didn’t hear me calling you when you came in. Did you enjoy your run?”
“No.” Lin vigorously dried his hair, flinging the towel on the floor before going over to the chest of drawers to get out fresh underwear.
“What route did you take?”
“Over the top to Brunswick and back, and yes, before you ask, I kept well away from the cliff path. I took the ramblers path over the fields.”
“Any particular reason why you didn’t enjoy it?” David cocked his head on one side, examining Lin's rear as he rummaged in the drawer, admiring the tight buttocks and well-toned legs with their light covering of fair hair.
Lin pulled on a pair of briefs, dismissing the question with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Guilty conscience perhaps, at leaving so rudely and without breakfast?”
“Sorry.”
“Are you?” asked David dryly. “Or are you just paying lip service to apology as a means of avoiding grief?”
Lin shook his head. “I really am sorry. I disturbed your sleep and you got up to do something nice for me. I’m a despicable fucking shit bag. I don’t know how you stand me. I wouldn't blame you for finding someone else.”
“Stop it, Lin, now. I won't have you belittle yourself all the time. Have you done your stretches?”
“Few.”
“How few?”
“Quads.”
“And?”
“And nothing.” Lin pulled on a light green Diesel t-shirt.
“Why not?”
“What is this, the Yorkshire branch of the Spanish Inquisition?” Lin straightened his tee, pulling irritably at the hem. “I couldn’t be arsed, that’s why not.”
David’s eyes chilled down at the spitty tone. “You can do them now.”
“I’ve showered now so there’s no point.” Lin extracted his favourite jeans from a drawer. They were washed out, the material worn thin and soft and beginning to fray at the knees. He thrust his right leg into them, then his left, but before he could pull them up, an arm came around his waist, swinging him easily off his feet and pulling them back off.
“Now, Linval.” David put him down and flung the jeans on the bed, “You’ll end up with muscle cramps tonight if you don't. You know you will. You’ll be in agony all night and neither of us will get any rest.”
“Don’t let it worry you, pet,” said Lin sarcastically. “I’ll sleep in one of the guestrooms so there’ll be no danger of me spoiling your precious beauty sleep with my writhing.”
In one fleet movement David again put his arm around Lin’s waist, only hooked the opposite way, so that instead of lifting him up it bent him forwards. Inserting his fingers in the waistband of his briefs he drew them down and placed a hand on his bottom. “Do I need to progress any further than this?”
Lin’s response was immediate and sincere. “No.”
David pulled up his briefs and returned him to an upright posture, giving him a light swat. “Stretches.”
Lin performed a complete set of stretches, conscious and resentful of David’s audience. “There.” His voice hitched a little as he finished the last exercise. “Are we all fluffy happy now?”
David shook his head. “I can’t say I am, but I’m sure your muscles are overjoyed.” He leaned down to help Lin up from the bedroom floor, pulling him into a cross hug. “You look exhausted. You’re all of a tremble, you silly man. I could wring your bloody obstinate neck for going out like that just to spite me. Get into bed.” he dropped a kiss on his head.” I'm going to bring you some breakfast and then you're going to have a sleep. It might improve your temper.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my temper. I don’t want…” Lin broke off as David’s head tilted to one side and his eyebrows turned into stern question marks pushing up towards his hairline. He got into bed. There were times to push and cavil and times to do as you were told.
Picking up the discarded towel David went downstairs.
Folding his arms Lin leaned against the headboard. There were days when he wished his longing fantasies of being dominated by a strong man had remained fantasy and not morphed into reality in the shape of David Jordan.
Red Sky by Morning
Despite his sour mood, Lin was touched by the effort put into preparing breakfast for him. The tray was set with his favourite pieces of china, including a bud vase containing a perfect white musk rose and fronds of white jasmine from the garden. There was fresh orange juice, fragrant French coffee, cereal and toast.
He tried hard to stop a smile staging a coup over the sulk on his mouth, but failed. “Looks nice.” He picked up the vase, holding it to his face, inhaling the rich scent of the flowers. “These smell wonderful, thank you. I don’t deserve it.”
“True. You deserve something much less pleasant.” David sat on the bed, leaning to kiss Lin on the lips. “But we won’t go into that.” Picking up the cafetiere, he poured out two cups of black coffee, adding a small lump of sugar to Lin's. “Eat up, you’ll feel better.”
“Better than what?”
“Better than hungry.” David poured milk over the bowl of muesli.
Lin picked up the spoon and began to eat.
“What would you like to do this weekend?” David sipped at his coffee.
Lin couldn't resist. The words tripped off his tongue. "Need you ask?"
David ignored the inference. “We could take a trip over to see Tony and Lee, spend a few days with them?”
“No thanks." Lin scowled. “Their boy brat will only get on my nerves. He makes me want to slap him."
"You rise to Darren's bait far too much. He loves getting a reaction out of you. It's best to ignore him."
"I don't want to visit. You go if you want. I’ll be fine on my own.”
David pressed on. “How about some pamper time, I could call the Oulton Spa, see if they have any vacancies?”
Lin shook his head. “I don’t fancy it.” He finished the bowl of cereal and picked up a piece of toast, taking a half-hearted bite, washing the morsel down with a drink of coffee. An idea flashed to mind. He spoke casually. "Why don't we stay local and visit Scarburn, take a walk around the old town?”
“There’s no point, Linsy love, because the planning office is closed on a Saturday and even if it wasn’t we wouldn’t be going. It’s far too early in the chapel proceedings for anyone to have yet submitted plans for inspection, let alone for them to be available to Joe Public.”
Lin flared, “how did you know that’s where I was thinking of going?”
“Because I know you better than you know yourself. I’m warning you, put thoughts of contacting the planning office out of your mind. As residents we’ll get a letter outlining what purpose the chapel has been bought for in due course.”
“No harm in being ahead of the crowd.”
“Let it drop.”
“I suppose we can always lodge an objection if it is going to be a restaurant. I could put the wind up fat Harry and get him onside. I'll tell him a new restaurant will likely affect his takings, especially if it does lunches and applies for a licence as well.”
David made no effort to disguise his annoyance, utilising what Lin referred to as his posh Eton voice, cold and precise. “I’m beginning to think I’m talking to myself here, Linval, and I’m more than tired of it. No Scarburn. No planning office. No more chapel talk. How about we visit my mother for the weekend? She's been complaining she hasn’t seen us for months.”
“By us she means you, and I’d rather trap my dick in the zip of my jeans than spend the weekend being viewed down the length of her nose.”
“Not the most polite or charming of pronouncements but fair enough seeing as she doesn't speak very highly of you either. Let's go to Northallerton for the day then, visit Coopers and get some sea urchin paste; you said you were running low. We could also stock up on those gorgeous Catalonian anchovies they sell and some black olives. We could have coffee and a snack at Bella's afterwards."
"I did an online shop at Coopers and," Lin's voice grew strident, "how many times have I told you I'd rather have coffee at McDonalds than patronise Bella's Tea Rooms. It's a bloody pretentious, overpriced, overrated snob shop. They charge eight pounds, eight pounds, for a lump of cheese on toast, justifying it by labelling it as Welsh rarebit. Rare my arse, it isn't even good cheese, it's mass produced pap. Their cakes are factory fodder too; all fancy dressing and no flavour. How they get away with calling them homemade is beyond me. It bloody amazes me that folk actually queue up to get into the place. It's like queuing up to get fucking mugged."
"All right, calm down. I'm sorry I mentioned it." David blew out his cheeks. "How about we go to the cinema?” He almost added, ‘or dinner out,’ but stopped himself. Lin was a nightmare to take out to dinner at the best of times. In the circumstances taking him to a functioning restaurant would be like rubbing salt in a wound and everyone would pay for his pain.
“I’m not in the mood.” Lin dropped the remains of the toast back on his plate and put the tray on the floor next to the bed. He lay down, curling on his side.
Putting his coffee cup on the bedside cabinet David laid on the bed, also curling on his side, facing Lin's back. Propping his head on his left hand, he used his right hand to stroke intimate little circles on Lin's bare thigh. “What are you are in the mood for?”
David's closeness and the warm, soap fresh scent of his skin, underscored by the musky tang of male pheromones, caused a reaction in Lin’s body. He quelled it.
“Nothing.”
“How about I work on getting you in the mood for something?” David’s caressing hand edged higher.
“I’m not interested. I was ordered to sleep anyway.”
“Sex will relax you." David placed a kiss at the nape of Lin's neck, moving up towards the base of his ear. “It will improve your mood and sense of well-being and therefore help you sleep much better.”
“You’re only thinking of yourself.” Lin clamped a hand to his neck, blocking the kisses. “Your cock rules your life. Sex mad and selfish you are.”
“I admit to not being entirely altruistic, but you enjoy sex as much as I do. I can’t help finding you irresistible.”
“Cheap flattery will get you nowhere, least of all where you want to be, between my legs with your piston stoking my hole.”
“Care to lay bets on it?”
“You can lay bets wherever you like, David dear, but what you’re not going to lay is me. I’m not feeling amorously inclined towards you. If your little friend John Thomas is desperate, then go read him one of the horny little cock stories you used to publish by the drove. You can shake hands with him afterwards.”
“I don’t think I care for the way you said ‘little’ friend, besides you know how much I hate playing solitaire.” His voice took on a beseeching note. “How can you not feel amorous towards me after the romantic breakfast I served you?”
“Without effort believe me.”
“Will you feel more inclined if I serenade you with the rose clenched between my teeth?”
“No, though I might smile if you get a thorn stuck in your tongue, like Tony did last Valentine's Day."
“You’re not a nice man, Linsy.”
Lin glanced over his shoulder. “Still want to fuck me?”
“Yes please.”
“Tough.” Lin turned away again.
"I'll take you by force, make you my sex slave. You'll call me Master and kneel naked at my feet. You won't be allowed to wear clothing ever again, apart from a collar with my initials on it." David slipped his hand under Lin's t-shirt. "I'll hogtie you, spank and whip you, make you orally pleasure me and then I'll fuck you long and hard until you're begging for mercy."
“I’m not playing." Lin did his best to ignore the sensuous caressing of his back. "I'm not going to be won over or turned on with sordid sex talk. Knowing you it's probably plagiarised from one of your arse totty books."
David's hand moved around to his chest. Fingers toyed with his nipples, pinching them into hard little nubs before moving down his belly to his groin, stroking the length of his cock through his underwear. "Go play with yourself. I mean it, David, stop it." He squirmed, trying to contain a moan of pleasure as a tongue began a gentle trace around the shell of his ear. “Did you hear me, stop it, don't do that, or…what the hell are you doing?” Lin rolled over to glare at David.
“I’m stopping as requested.” David, straight-faced, lay on his back, hands locked behind his head. “Far be it from me to force my obnoxious, unwanted attentions on…OUCH!" He let out a loud yelp as an elbow jabbed his ribs. He started laughing and then ouched again as the elbow struck a second blow.
“You’d better finish what you started, David Jordan, and you better be damn good.”
“Trust me." David grinned. "I’ll be better than good. I'll be fantastic, as always.” Pulling Lin into his arms he smacked playfully at his rump.
Lin snorted. “What was it Mae West once said, an ounce of performance is worth pounds of promises.”
“She also said, a hard man is good to find.” David guided Lin’s hand to the crotch of his black jeans.
“My, my.” Lin fluttered his eyelashes and gave one of his rare full smiles. “Looks like I found me a good, hard man. You could poke someone's eye out with a pole like that. Now remember, darling, in the words of the great lady, anything worth doing is worth doing slowly.”
Red Sky by Morning
David studied Lin's face as he slept, smiling as he thought of the sex they'd shared. Lin was a vocal bed partner. He whimpered, moaned, grunted, begged and yelped during intercourse. It was adorable.
He touched Lin's hair with a gentle finger, some of his pleasure diminishing. Lin might be sleeping, but he wasn't completely at peace. His mind was still working away, evident from the faint frown lines on his forehead and around his mouth. No doubt he was worrying about who had bought the chapel. Why wouldn't he accept that it didn't matter?
Carefully sliding his arm out from beneath Lin's shoulders he got out of bed, making his way to one of the guest bathrooms to shower, so as not to disturb him. He re-dressed and went downstairs.
After reading another round of business emails and replying to the most urgent, David glanced surreptitiously over his shoulder before clicking on his favourites list and selecting an item. He printed it off and hurried to the kitchen, closing the door with stealth.
He paused. It was ridiculous. He was acting as if he was about to do something illegal and obscene rather than a bit of experimental baking while a certain someone was out of the picture. Though in his own defence, it had to be said, Lin did view anyone using the kitchen, besides himself, as a criminal offence.
Consulting the printed sheet, David began a happy gathering together of ingredients. He was looking forward to baking without Lin poking his narrow little nose in, interfering, criticising and trying to take over at every stage.
Twenty minutes later he had a tray of white chocolate and raspberry muffins all ready to slip in the oven. He viewed them with a proud paternal eye. Whoever would have thought the heady world of empire building would pale into insignificance compared to the satisfaction gained from making cakes?
His happy pride suffered a slight setback as he opened the oven and realised he’d forgotten to light and preheat it. Setting the cakes aside he ruefully remedied the oversight. Lin would have had something to say about it. Fortunately, what the chef didn’t see, he couldn’t comment on.
Humming the theme tune from The Archers, he set about washing up and returning the kitchen to Lin's exacting standards while he waited for the oven to heat. Job done he filled the kettle and plugged it in to make what he considered was a well-earned drink, deciding on coffee for a change. He's just spooned granules into a mug when what sounded like a hammer blow landed on the back kitchen door.
“Sorry, Mr Jordan.” Jeff grinned from the threshold, his bulk blocking out light from the open door. “Didn’t mean to mek you jump.”
“Morning, Jeff. I'm making coffee. It’s only the instant variety, but you’re welcome to join me?”
“Aye, go on then, ta, just a quick one. I called by wi’ these.” He held out an elegant bunch of gladioli, the bottom buds just opening to reveal petals of a rich coral hue. “First of the season. You won’t find any in the shops yet, and none as fine if you did. Gladdies are my speciality, won prizes with them I have. ”
“They’re lovely, Jeff.” David looked puzzled. “But Saturday isn’t usually your day for selling at this end of the coast?”
“Nay, Mr Jordan.” Jeff settled himself on a kitchen chair, laying the flowers on the table. “Ah’m not selling. These are to replace them sunflowers I sold you. Mr Larkin complained they were infested with black fly.”
“Mr Larkin,” said David smoothly, “was mistaken. The sunflowers were beautiful. They didn't last as long I would have liked due to this heat, but they were fine. These will be a welcome replacement and of course I’ll pay you for them.”
Jeff shook a dismissive paw. “Naw, naw, my pleasure. Call them a return for all the tea and coffee I’ve supped here.”
He leaned conversational forearms on the table. “I reckon Stanes is going to be teeming wi' even more folk today. The car park at the top of the bank is already filling up. I'm going to set up a stall later, see what I can flog. That storm has been good for business. Harry at The Golden Lion reckons he’s sold more beer in the last few days than he has in the last fortnight.” He grinned, showing a set of even white teeth. “George and Seth aren’t faring too bad either. They’ve practically had folk fighting over their catch, and had plenty of free pints from others wanting to hear about their part in the happenings.”
“They deserve it,” said David seriously as he put the coffees on the table. “God knows what Lin and I would have done if they hadn’t happened along. I doubt I’d be chatting to you now. My foot was lodged solid under those boulders and the wet sand underneath was sucking it down further. Lin would never have been able to shift them alone. We'd have both been flattened if George and Seth hadn't come to our aid.”
Jeff nodded, “aye, they’re good blokes. They were chuffed with the stuff you said about them to that fella from the local gazette. Seth’s missus cut the story out and put it in a frame and Harry is having one framed to hang up in the bar.”
He took a sip of his coffee, his huge hand holding the delicate china mug between a finger and thumb, pinkie raised in the air. “Will you be opening today, take advantage of the extra custom? Lucy will be disappointed if you don't. I saw her in the pub last night. She was doing a bit of bar maiding for Harry. She told me she prefers waiting tables in here than wiping tables in the Lion. I can't say as I blame her. There's some blokes have no manners when they've got drink in them. Bloody disgrace the things they say in front of a bonny lass.”
David shook his head, “I’m afraid Lin’s still feeling off colour.”
“I thowt he looked proper sickly when I saw him out this morning. Mind you he would’ve looked even sicker if he’d stayed on the beach any longer. I told him. I said that hazard rope’s there for a purpose, Mr Larkin. You shouldn’t be going under it. Them cliffs are still dangerous. I was right an’ all. Another big chunk of rock come crashing down not long after he walked off. Gave Florrie and me a helluva fright it did. It crashed down on the Devil’s steps, right where Mr Larkin had been standing not two minutes before. It would have killed him stone dead.”
David felt his skin pale and grow cold at this snippet of news.
Jeff, unaware of the disturbance he’d wrought in his audience, prattled on. “I think the council ought to be doing something more than they’re doing. I phoned them up. I told ‘em they ought to ban people off the sand altogether. We don’t want some day-tripper's bairn straying under the paltry tape they’ve strung up and getting squashed like a fly. They said they had some folk coming out later this morning to assess the situation. Whatever that means.”
As soon as Jeff departed, David washed the coffee mugs, staring sightless into the garden, his inner eye focussed on something less pleasant than the view through the glass. He returned to the snug, using his grim mood to begin sorting through some business papers and VAT returns.
Red Sky by Morning
Lin woke a little before noon, recognising the change in the call of the gulls as soon as he surfaced. Their cries were less strident, more remote, as if they were following the course of the sun as it climbed higher in the sky.
He lay for a few moments, eyes closed, enjoying the summer heat pooling around his naked body, still languid in the aftermath of sex and sleep. He allowed his mind to paint a pleasing picture.
Maybe David might be persuaded to open The Venus for Sunday afternoon tea. It wouldn’t be quite on a par with offering evening dinner. Morning coffee and afternoon tea, no matter how elegant, would never have the same prestige as dinner, but it would be better than nothing.
He would offer fresh crab and smoked salmon sandwiches and some simple shellfish dishes. He had some tiger prawns in the freezer. They'd go nicely with a green apple and sweet pepper sauce, served warm over salad. For the sweet-toothed he would serve up traditional cream teas with scones, and fresh strawberries. He'd add lavender and a pinch of fresh black pepper to a batch of scone mix for a fragrant and delicious twist. It was the kind of fare Sunday pleasure seekers looked for in summer.
Opening his eyes he put a hand to his mouth, chewing at his thumbnail. He’d show any rival he was a force to be reckoned with when it came to producing a meal, be it high tea or dinner. They’d have to rise very early in the morning to better him.
Cheered by the mental composition of his menu, he got up, showering and dressing before padding barefoot downstairs to the kitchen to optimistically check what he had in the store cupboard and what he might need to buy.
He halted, a sour expression creeping across his face as he viewed the tray of muffins sitting unbaked on the counter top, while the oven blazed away to no purpose. He couldn’t turn his back for five minutes without David metamorphosing into Stane’s answer to Delia Smith. He’d be buying football clubs next and teaching lessons on how to boil eggs and make toast.
He walked over to the counter intending to poke a finger into the cake mixture and taste it. David's voice made him jump before he could complete the mission. He hadn't heard him enter the kitchen.
“I see you’re up. Do you feel better for having a sleep?”
“I see you’ve been playing in my kitchen.”
“Our kitchen, Lin. I’m as entitled to play in it as you are.”
“The difference being,” Lin folded his arms, “that I don’t play.” He nodded at the tray of muffins. “There’s too much mixture in those cases. They won’t cook evenly and you do realise they don’t put themselves in the oven. You have to do it for them. I know we live by the North Sea, but it doesn’t make the gas any cheaper because it has less distance to travel.”
“I’m well aware of that, thank you, Linval,” David’s eyes darkened to their deepest shade, almost black. “I got sidetracked.”
“What else have you been doing, besides playing Betty Crocker in my kitchen?”
“Accounts for The Venus.”
Lin’s mouth shaped itself into a sneer and snotty, injudicious words tripped off his tongue before he could bite them back. "There can’t be much to account for, not for a bistro that never opens. I don’t know why you bothered.”
There was a blur of movement. Lin got a fright as his wrist was seized and he was towed towards the kitchen table at a stumbling speed. Pulling out a chair David sat down on it, placing his right foot on its rung, elevating his right knee, so that when Lin found himself sprawled over it, his feet were raised clear of the floor in a most undignified manner.
Tears sprang to his eyes, not because the hand striking his bottom hurt as such. It smarted certainly, but the protective presence of jeans and briefs kept the smart from progressing to pain. It was the swiftness of action and David’s silent intensity that startled him. He was in deep trouble, and for more than the words just spoken.
David kept the spanking brief, deeming his modus operandi just as disciplinary as the actual smacks and sufficient for the verbal offence. He returned Lin to his feet. “I warned you this morning about continuing to snipe and bitch on that subject.”
Getting up from the chair he grasped Lin's elbow, marching him out of the kitchen and down the hall towards the snug. Ushering him into the room he pointed towards the designated punishment corner. "Get over there."
Lin, flushed of face, stared at David in tear-misted puzzlement, opening his mouth to question. He didn't get chance.
“Do as you're told, boy!”
This was the David you didn’t argue with. Lin hastened to obey. Standing in position he put his hands behind his back, his mind in a whirl. What the fuck had he done to put David in such a hard mood?
Closing the snug door, David solved Lin’s puzzlement. “Jeff dropped by while you were sleeping. He saw you on the beach this morning.”
Lin swallowed hard. Damn Jeff Tonkin and his bloody big gob.
David wasted no time in getting to the point. “What the fucking hell were you playing at? Is one near death experience in a week not enough for you? Jeff said there was another big rock fall not minutes after you left. You could have been under it.”
“Lucky I left when I did then. God must love me after all.” Lin had cause to regret his levity. David's voice lashed over him like a winter sea.
“Keep your smart remarks behind your teeth. I’m well out of humour with you and not just because you seem to think you’re exempt from obeying the warnings issued by the health and safety authority.”
Perching on the arm of the sofa David folded his arms, studying Lin's back, keeping him waiting for a few moments before speaking again. “Leaving aside your failure to obey civic authority, let’s concentrate on your failure to obey an authority closer to home, mine. With that in mind, answer this, are you allowed on the seawall?”
“I just…”
David halted the excuse in its tracks. “I'm not interested in justification. I want a straight answer. Are you allowed on the seawall?”
“No.”
“Thank you. We discussed the reasons why in some detail on Thursday. Was there anything about the discussion you didn’t understand?”
“For God’s sake, David,” said Lin waspishly. “I’m neither an imbecile or a child. Of course I understood.”
“Yet you still felt moved to disobey me?”
“I didn’t intend to.” Lin turned round, but was motioned to face the wall again. He scowled at the vanilla paintwork. "It just happened.”
“Nothing just happens, Lin, not of its own accord. There has to be an impetus. You chose to ignore a specific instruction of mine, yet again. It's becoming a habit and not one I intend to allow to continue by any means.”
Lin’s buttocks and anal muscle constricted at the chill and dangerous timbre of David's voice. The wall in front of him wavered. “I just found myself there. I couldn’t help it.”
“I don’t accept that for a moment, it’s an abjuration of responsibility.” David stood up, walking across to where Lin was standing, repeating the mantra, “are you allowed to go on the seawall?”
Lin closed his eyes, acutely aware of David’s proximity. How could a man who was a respectable five foot eleven suddenly seem like a colossal six foot six? “No.” His voice came out just above a whisper.
“No, and yet, despite my instructions, and quite apart from the advice of the local council, you strolled across the sand, shimmied under the rope cordoning off the area and did exactly that.”
Lin shook his head. “I didn’t, not in full. I only stood on the lower steps. I couldn’t go any further. I…” He fell silent, not sure whether confessing his reaction would make matters better or worse.
Turning Lin round, David placed his hands on his shoulders, saying sternly, “you had what we anticipated you would have, a panic attack.” His tone softened. “How bad was it?”
“Pretty bad," said Lin truthfully. "I would probably have been sick if I'd had anything in my stomach to bring up.” He risked a look at David's face, hoping to see sympathy tempering austerity. Sympathy was there, but if anything it seemed to be in partnership with austerity, lending it weight. He slipped his arms around David's body, squeezing him. “I’m okay, and like I said, I didn’t actually go onto the wall.”
David returned the hug, but remained on subject. “You're splitting hairs. I told you not to go anywhere near it, which includes the steps leading up to it. The wretched construction is a bogeyman. It engenders bad feelings in you at the best of times. After what happened on Wednesday we both knew those feelings would likely be worse, as proven by your reaction this morning.”
“I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“An obvious statement if ever there was.” David shook his head. “I made plain I didn’t want you stressing yourself. Apart from anything else you’re mindless when you’re locked into panic. Anything could have happened and you wouldn’t have been equipped to deal with it. How did I say we would handle it?”
“You said when the time was right we would tackle it together, a stage at a time.”
“So tell me why you felt obliged to gallop on down there and attempt the whole nine yards by yourself, ignoring all common sense?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like? What made you think it was acceptable to risk life, limb and my displeasure by going down there this morning?
“There’s the Queen Victoria thing again.” Lin scowled. “Maybe I should be grateful you don’t look like the squat little monarch herself. You’ll be wearing black bombazine and a lace cap next."
David was not amused, a fact he demonstrated by landing a powerful, gasp-inducing slap to the side of Lin's thigh. “I told you I’m in no mood for smart comments. Answer me.”
Lin tempered his attitude. “It wasn’t planned. It was a knee-jerk impulse. I felt I had to tackle the wall on my own.”
“Why on your own, to show how angry you are with me over my decisions of the last few days? Was it a means of superseding my authority, sticking your middle finger up at me?”
“No, at least not consciously.” Lin chewed his lip for a second and then blurted out, “I should be strong for you, David. I’m older than you. I should be the one protecting you. Instead I almost got you killed because I was too much of a fucking coward to move from the wall of my own accord. I’m a spineless loser. I couldn’t even climb onto the thing today. I was so afraid I almost blacked out. I don’t understand why you want to be with me or how you can love me.”
“You don’t have to understand, just know it.” David pulled Lin into his arms, saying fiercely, “and you are not a coward in any way, shape or form. A coward wouldn’t refuse to leave a scene of danger, despite being ordered to do so. You're always there for me when it matters. As for age, how often do I have to say this, it’s irrelevant. You’re hardly Methuselah to my boy David. There isn't a huge span of years between us. It’s need and nature that counts, not age. You have needs, which I meet in harmony with my nature, just as I have needs, which you fulfil in harmony with yours. We suit each other.”
"I'm six years and eleven months older than you, the best part of a decade." Lin availed himself of David’s black t-shirt to wipe his eyes. “Do I really meet your needs? Do I make you happy?”
“Oh, Lin, of course you do.” David hugged him close. “You make me complete. I consider the evening I walked into that publishers party and saw your scowling face as the luckiest of my life.”
Lin pouted. “Don't you mean my smiling face?”
“No, it was definitely scowling,” said David solemnly. “You were having a row with another guest. You’d thrown a tray of assorted canapés at him.”
Lin blushed. “I’d been unbearably provoked. Anyway, I didn’t throw them. I dropped them. He just got in the way, and I didn’t like you one bit when I first met you. I thought you were arrogant.”
“Only because I told you to clear up the mess you’d made and behave. You gave me the dirtiest look and asked me who the hell I thought I was.”
Lin groaned at the memory. “When you told me I was so embarrassed I wanted the ground to open up." He imitated David's voice. "I’m the guest of honour, and the new owner of the companies that publish your books and produce the cookery programme you present.”
“You didn’t show any embarrassment. You stuck your nose in the air and snapped, and I’m one of the people that make the buying of such companies worth your time and money. You seemed most unimpressed with me." David smiled, "though you did clear up the canapés and behave impeccably for the rest of the evening.”
He grew sombre again, stroking Lin’s hair away from his eyes. “Talking of behaviour, let’s return to the subject of yours today.”
Lin gave a deeper groan. “Didn’t we get past all that?”
“No, we got sidetracked for a moment. As I said I know beyond a shadow of a doubt you’re not a coward. You risked your life for me on Wednesday. You have no idea how much it means to me, even though I was angry when you refused to leave. I thought I was endangering you when all I wanted was your safety, but as you pointed out, in such situations we have no master but ourselves. However, taking risks in those kinds of circumstances is very different to doing what you did this morning."
Lin opened his mouth intending to try and justify his actions once again, but David raised a finger, warning him to silence. The stage was his.
"How do you think I felt when Jeff let slip where you were and what happened minutes after you left? What if panic had immobilised you, like it did on Wednesday and you couldn’t move off those steps? You would have been killed or at best seriously injured.”
Lin paled as it struck him how close to danger he’d come, but his voice still held a hint of defiance. “I wasn’t to know there was another rock fall imminent. I’m not psychic.”
“No, but you were well aware of the possibility of there being another rock fall. There were enough warnings posted around. It doesn’t need a psychic to foretell the obvious. You shouldn’t have been there. There was no life or death situation. There was nothing to warrant you ignoring all warnings certainly not to prove some point about not being a coward. A dead hero can't warm a bed, and I like having a warm bed."
He held Lin at arms length. "When I rule on a matter I expect to be obeyed to the letter. I told you to stay clear of the wall and you should have done so, end of story."
"Yes. I'm sorry, okay." Lin tried to pull away from David, but was held in place. "There's no harm done, so let's move on."
"No harm done?" David's eyebrows pushed up. "I disagree. I suspect the real truth is you did what you did, not to disprove the coward theory, but to confirm it, in your own eyes at least. It was an excuse to run yourself down and heap up bad feelings. All you've done of late is rubbish yourself and I'm sick of it. It's verbal self-harm and it damages us both. I know what’s behind it. This 'alleged' new restaurant. You’re already in heavy competition with something that doesn’t yet exist outside your mind."
Leading Lin over to the sofa, David sat down, pulling him onto his lap. "You've decided the chef of this assumed eatery will be better than you are, better than The Venus. You think people will forsake you and clamour to its doors. You’ve already judged and condemned yourself as a failure, and you’re seeking ways to reinforce the negative view and castigate yourself for it."
He rubbed Lin's thigh. "If a new restaurant opens, it opens, love. There’s nothing we can do to stop it. What I can and will do, and you need to understand this, is prevent you from using it as a means to torture, torment and work yourself into the ground. I won’t permit it. We are not repeating the London scenario here. Those days are gone. I don’t care if a string of restaurants open up in Stanes. It isn’t going to influence how you work or how we live our life. Stand up please.”
Lin did as he was told, a faint tremor beginning in his knees.
“The decisions I've made over the past few days have been made with the intention of protecting and caring for you, for us both, do you believe me?”
"Yes." Lin spoke without hesitation.
"Which makes your behaviour today even more unacceptable." David pointed towards the computer desk. "Get the paddle."
Lin's mouth went dry and the tremble in his knees increased. "Not the paddle. I don't deserve a paddling."
"I'll decide what you deserve. Get the paddle. Don't let me have to tell you again."
Lin moved over to the desk with reluctant steps, unlocking and pulling open the drawer where the paddle was kept, his cock twitching dismay. The slipper stung badly enough, but was nothing compared to the sting rendered by this hard little beast. He lifted the solid, polished bamboo oblong out of the drawer, walking slowly back towards the sofa, holding it out.
"Thank you." David took it and placed it on the floor at his feet. Placing his hands on Lin's hips, he pulled him forwards, manoeuvring him between his knees, undoing the fly buttons on his jeans. “Submitting to my authority seems to be a real problem for you at the moment. Blatantly defying me this morning was the last straw. You ignored a real and present danger because you wanted to turn the screw on yourself.” He tugged the jeans past Lin’s slim hips and down to his knees, doing the same with his briefs. “I won't tolerate it.” Drawing Lin round to the right side of him he brought his knees together and patted them. "Bend over."
Lin's swallowed a sudden accumulation of salvia. He hated being told to present his backside for punishment instead of having David physically put him over his knee. It was a cold order, and a sign discipline was going to be severe. He hesitated a second too long.
"Still flouting me." Standing up David grasped Lin's arm and turned him round, warming his bare buttocks with a series of firm slaps, which had Lin hissing and hopping on the spot. He sat down again in the middle of the sofa, repeating the curt order. "Bend over."
Lin complied, awkwardly flexing his body over David's lap, placing his hands on the floor. He sucked in his lower lip as he was roughly rearranged, the back of his t-shirt and the waistband of his jeans being utilised as handles to lift and position him so his cock and balls weren't crushed.
Heart hammering he lowered his head between his arms, closing his eyes, feeling his hair curtain his face. The mild heat from the hand spanking had diminished, but would soon be replaced with something much fierier.
Picking the paddle up from the floor David laid it across the middle of Lin's rosy bottom. He paused for a moment letting Lin feel its presence and then lifted it.
Lin's palms pressed hard against the floor, his head snapped up and he bellowed as bamboo struck the muscular centre of his backside, falling forcefully across both cheeks. The burn was so intense he felt as if he'd been branded. A split second later the paddle struck again on his left buttock and then on his right and then once more to the centre making the skin flame. He screeched at the top of his lungs, flinging his right hand back in a futile attempt to shield his rump.
"It hurts, oh God, Jesus, please, David, please, no more, it hurts too much." His hand was taken and held and he shrieked again as the brutal implement smacked against his arse three times in rapid succession. "Fuck-fuck-fuck!" He yelled and struggled, kicking up his heels trying to block its path, managing to half-slip from his punisher's knee in the process.
"Of course it hurts." David dropped the paddle on the cushion beside him. Spreading his legs apart he hauled Lin up from the floor, pulling him across his left thigh. "But not as much as being hit by a ton of rock. You won't be able to sit comfortably for a few days, but at least you'll be alive." He drew Lin's right arm behind him, pinning it against his back and then clamped his right leg over both of Lin's legs, immobilising him before picking up the paddle again.
Lin gave way to tears, sobbing as the paddle resumed its painful business, striking every inch of his buttocks and upper thighs in a repetitive agonising circuit. Sweat soaked his body and his throat grew hoarse from shouting and begging for the paddling to stop.
Gritting his teeth and tightening his hold David forced himself to continue with the spanking after Lin began crying. Every now and again in a relationship like theirs it was important to clarify roles, to make crystal clear who was in charge. When undertaking a position of authority you had to show a willingness to follow through, to be ruthless when the occasion called for it. This was such an occasion. Lin needed reining in.
He at last paused in his administrations, speaking in a cold firm manner. "Let me make things clear one last time. I will tell you when The Venus is to reopen, you don't ask, you don't complain and whine. You stay away from the seawall. In fact you don't go out at all. We are not discussing the chapel. You are going to stop obsessing over it. When I say no to something I mean no and you do not try to override me."
Raising the paddle once again he underscored his words and concluded punishment with six heavy, scolding spanks to the underside of Lin's carmine globes, the sensitive sit spot.
Red Sky by Morning
After washing his face Lin lay down on the bed, as he'd been told to do. He lay on his stomach, wishing the heavy air would winter down and cool his burning behind instead of adding to its hot discomfort. Closing his eyes he abandoned any notion of persuading David to open The Venus on Sunday. To even suggest such a thing in the present climate would be several steps beyond foolish.
When the call came he got up and re-dressed, dismissing underwear and favouring a pair of baggy, lightweight cotton shorts over the jeans he'd been wearing earlier. The shorts were hardly flattering to his figure, but were more respecting of the comfort of his backside.
Slowly making his way downstairs he halted in front of the hall mirror to examine his appearance and flick fingers through his hair. His eyes were still red and puffy from crying. Picking his sunglasses off the sideboard he put them on and walked into the kitchen where he acknowledged David’s greeting with a meagre nod of his head.
He sat down at the place set for him at the table in the dining nook, flinching as he lowered his sore bottom onto the hard chair seat. A ham salad sandwich and a sliced apple were put down in front of him. He wasn't in the least bit hungry, but he picked up the sandwich and began to eat. David had made clear that all he had to do was do as he was told. He’d been told to come down for lunch, to sit, to eat, and so he did.
David ate his own lunch, keeping thoughtful eyes on Lin. He'd sobbed in his arms after being punished, taking comfort from being held and cuddled, accepting of the discipline meted out, but it looked like resentment had edged back in.
When they’d both finished eating he stood up, stacking their plates. “How about some tea or coffee, and maybe trying one of my muffins. They’re still warm?”
Lin shook his head.
“Oh go on, how bad can they be?”
“No, thank you. I believe I’ve fulfilled my obligations of obedience as far as eating lunch is concerned. Nutrition has been served. I've had more than sufficient.”
“Fair enough, maybe later.” David carried the plates across to the sink to wash. He nodded towards the vase on the worktop next to the drainer. “Did you see the flowers Jeff brought? They’re a stunning colour. I’ll put them in the snug so we can enjoy them as they open out. They’ll look good in front of the hearth screen.”
The mention of Jeff darkened the shadow marring Lin’s countenance. It was thanks to Jeff he was sitting on what felt like a battalion of bee stings. “We ought to get Lee to supply our flowers. He could send them by courier, or on the train. We could collect them from the station at Whitersby. We don’t need Jeff when we have a friend in the floristry business. He'll probably give us a generous discount and we'd get a wider variety of flowers, something more exotic than the homespun variety Jeff grows.”
David filled a glass with water, taking a deep draught before replying. “It wouldn’t be practical, as you well know. We’d all end up out of pocket. Lee isn’t a wholesaler. He’s retail. He goes to people like Jeff to supply him.” He poured the remains of the water into a pot of basil standing on the windowsill. “Don't mention it again." He turned to look at Lin. "If you’re anything short of polite to Jeff next time he calls, you’ll regret it. The only person responsible for the spanking you’ve just received is you, so don’t go looking for scapegoats.”
Lin abruptly pushed his chair back and stood up. “I’m going out.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Lin immediately moderated his tone. “May I, please, into the garden? I take it that isn’t off limits along with the rest of the village?”
“You’re welcome to go into the garden for an hour while I finish off some work, but take warning, boy.” David’s words fell like snow. “Use the time to sort out your sulks, because if I find anything less than a pleasant attitude when I come to get you, you’re going right back over my knee. Is that succinct enough for you?”
Lin wanted to say. ‘Well, I’d hardly call it a concise sentence in itself, but yes, the meaning contained within it, is more than to the point.’ But he didn’t. Pushing his sunglasses further up his nose he said, “yes, David,” before striding out into the garden.
Shaking his head, David went to the snug, shutting the door with a snap behind him. Sometimes Lin stretched his patience beyond its limits, prickly, contradictory man.
Red Sky by Morning
Lin wandered around the sultry garden, his t-shirt making a damp miserable statement against his back. The building heat was draining his energy as well as highlighting the prickling pain of his backside. David had not held back. Tears stung his eyes again. It was the harshest corporal punishment he'd ever received from him. He reached back to touch the seat of his shorts, feeling the heat from his inflamed buttocks radiating through the thin fabric. He tried giving a gentle rub, but it made it worse instead of better. He'd a good mind to use the evil fucking paddle as a board to chop and crush garlic on. The smell might deter David from using it.
In an effort at distraction he began picking herbs: lemon thyme, lavender and cologne mint, to make up into bunches for scenting the linen cupboard and deterring moths.
“Now then, Mr Larkin-Jordan. It’s much too late in the day to be picking herbs. You won’t get any flavour out of them. The oils will have evaporated.”
“Hello, Mr Medup.” Lin gave a faint smile, looking up at the weather-beaten face peering over the garden wall. Henry Medup was the only person who attached him and David in such a way. Despite how he felt about his man at this moment in time he liked the attachment.
He wasn’t altogether sure why Henry called him by both his own and David’s surname. Maybe it was a way of acknowledging and understanding their relationship, legitimising it as a kind of marriage, marriage being something a man of his generation could clearly relate to.
“Morning’s the best time to pick herbs for cunning use, just after the dew has dried. You should know that better than anyone, being a cook an' all.”
Lin assumed he meant culinary use and responded accordingly. “I’m not intending to use them for cooking, Mr. Medup.” Chance would be a fine thing, he thought sourly. “They're for scenting the linen cupboard.”
“Still won’t smell as fine as the ones you pick at the right time of day.”
Lin didn’t argue. It was easier to let the old man have the last word. He’d have it anyway. There was a saying: ‘you can allus tell a Yorkshireman, but you can’t tell him much!’ “Was there something you wanted, Mr Medup?”
“I was hoping to see David. Is he about?”
As ever, Lin bristled at the use of his partner's Christian name. Mr, not-lived-here-for-five-bloody-minutes, Jordan seemed to be more a part of the community than he who had been born here. Aside from those whom he dealt with on a business level nearly everyone in the village called him David. No one seemed inclined to address him by first name. Lin wilfully blocked out that he seldom offered people use of his first name.
He crushed a stalk of lavender between his fingers releasing its perfume. And why did everyone want to see David, but no one ever sought out his wit, wisdom or company. Even Tony and Lee tended to ask for David first when they phoned the house. He replied to Henry's query with a short, “he’s working.”
“Shame. My bees would have liked to see him. Speak highly of him they do.”
Lin resisted an impulse to say, ‘oh yes, and what do they say besides buzz-buzz?’ Instead he pulled at his damp t-shirt, saying irritably. “I’ll tell him you were asking.”
Henry gazed thoughtfully at his neighbour who seemed more than usually out of sorts, probably the heat. It didn’t suit some folk, too much heat, especially high-strung types like this one. Allus been the same he had, even when he was a bairn, going off by himself and hiding away, worrying his gran who had enough to worry about with his mam. Away with the fairies most of the time she was. “Don’t go fretting thissen, Mr Larkin-Jordan. Fresher weather is coming. Did you see the red sky this morning?”
Lin nodded. "It's a bad portent isn't it, unlucky?"
"It's nowt o' the sort. It's a warning for fishing folk, but a good one for them what heeds it. It tells sailors there's a storm somewhere about, far out at sea and it's best if they go canny. For us land dwellers it's a good sign too, especially in weather like this. A storm out at sea means rain will soon push in. My bees reckon it'll be with us by nightfall, if not before. It’ll cool the air far better than that other spite and fury storm we had.”
“Thank goodness.” Lin forced a smile. “It’s been altogether too hot and uncomfortable for me of late.”
“Aye well.” Henry gave a sage nod. “Life’s like that sometimes, don’t tek it to heart.” He glanced back over his shoulder as a voice sounded from within the house. “There’s our Elsie shouting. I'd better see what’s happening. I hope she hasn’t slaughtered one of my bloody workers again. Allus swiping and bashing at ‘em she is. I keep telling her they’re harmless, which is more than can be said for her. She’s worse than one of them cycle path killers you read about in the papers. Talking of papers I'm glad them nebby reporters have gone, upset my bees they did with their sneaky questions. They got nowt out of us.”
He suddenly gave Lin a keen look. “Why don’t you step over and visit me one of these days, Mr Larkin-Jordan. My bees would like a chance to get a good look at you. You’ve lived back here for a while now and never once introduced yourself to them. It’s high time. They won’t bite you.”
“But will they sting, Mr Medup?”
Henry gave his characteristic toothless grin. “Bit like your fella, only if you give them cause and provocation. You come and say hello to them. They know things about you they do.”
“Barmy old bugger,” muttered Lin as he watched him clop down his garden path towards his house, his ancient sandals more a safety hazard than a form of footwear. Resuming his interrupted herb picking he allowed a small smile at the thought of Henry’s sister turning into a bike-riding bee killer. He couldn’t wait to tell David. He'd also jot it down in his notebook. It would make a nice little anecdote to slip into a future cookbook, alongside a recipe featuring honey as an ingredient.
The sound of the phone ringing in the kitchen caught his attention and he went to answer it. Once David was engrossed in work he’d be hard pressed to hear a fire bell going off, never mind a telephone. Besides it was too hot to stay outside. His face was already tingling where the sun had scorched it. He should have put sun block on.
Hopefully the caller would offer some distraction from how wretched he felt, as long as it wasn’t David’s mother, or worse, Lin curled his lip, his stuck-up brother, Giles. It was neither.
After talking a while with Lydia and being at his charming best, if only to compensate her for having to talk with him instead of David, whom she'd asked for first, Lin moved restlessly around the kitchen.
He scooped a handful of crushed ice from the box in the freezer, sucking it and then rubbing some over his face, soothing and cooling the skin. It gave him an idea. Shoving down his shorts he did the same to his backside, gingerly rubbing handfuls of ice over his marked buttocks. Ice soon returned to water, trickling chilly rivers down his throbbing thighs, giving a few moments of blissful respite from stinging heat.
He decided to clean the fridge, going through the contents, throwing out things that were not as fresh as they ought to be, by his standards anyway. Then he cleaned the interior and wiped all the bottles and jars with a damp cloth sprayed with antibacterial cleaner.
Standing at the sink rinsing the cloth, he caught sight of the gladioli Jeff had brought. David was right. They were indeed a beautiful colour. He gently fingered the lower petals and then pinched out the very top buds, the way Lee had shown him, to encourage all the other buds on the long stems to fully open out.
After chewing indecisively at his thumbnail for a few seconds, he picked up the vase and carried it to the snug, placing it on the hearth before walking across to the long desk where David was working at the computer. “Am I disturbing you? I’ll make like one of Henry’s bees and buzz off if I am?”
David felt his mood lighten by several shades as Lin’s arms came around his neck. “You’re more of a wasp than a bee, it’s your duty to disturb me.” Pushing his chair back he drew Lin onto his lap, parting his legs so his tender backside didn’t come into hard contact with his thighs. “Are you feeling better?”
“Not really.” Lin winced.
David gave the wince the lack of attention it deserved. "I was thinking about making a cup of tea, would you like one?”
“I’d prefer a nice cold beer or a glass of chilled wine?”
“Tempting I admit, but it’s too early for alcohol. You’ll end up with a splitting headache by dinnertime.”
“True. I’ll pass on the tea though.”
“You don’t drink nearly enough fluids. It’s no wonder you get so tetchy. You’re probably dehydrated.” David made no attempt to eject Lin from his knee, much preferring the cuddle to making a cup of tea. He brushed his fingers through Lin’s hair. “This really is too long now, darling. It needs a good trim, at least an inch off the bottom. I’ll make you an appointment on Monday morning.”
“I’m growing it.”
“You’re getting it cut. It irritates you when it gets too far past your collar, which means you’ll irritate everyone else. You’ll have to accept that Julia has left Sachs and trust one of the other stylists to do it. They’re all qualified. You liked the way the new lad Adam cut mine. I could make you an appointment with him.”
“I’ve seen the way Adam looks at you. He fancies you. He’ll cut my hair badly to try and put you off me. He'll make me look old.”
David looked surprised. “He’s gay?”
“For heaven’s sake, man.” Lin rolled his eyes. “Wake up and view the rainbow. He works wearing nothing but a pair of white shorts, a crop top and a set of roller blades. Of course he’s gay. If he were any gayer he’d be positively euphoric.”
David laughed. “He’s a poseur I admit, but it doesn’t mean he’s gay, just young and self-aware. The shorts and top might be because the salon is hot and the blades help him scoot between clients faster.”
“Het boys do not do crop tops or wear white shorts without underwear. Trust me, he’s gay, he fancies you and he's not cutting my hair.” Lin abruptly changed the subject. “May I make dinner for us tonight? I’d like to. You haven't allowed me to cook since Tuesday.”
"Is that a roundabout way of saying you're sick of my simple offerings?"
"Yes."
David considered, and then nodded. “All right, on one condition.”
“What condition?”
“You don’t shout and bang around. One bad tempered word, screech or thrown object and I'll spank you again, Lin, I mean it. You also delegate and let me help, even if its just peeling veg, and we have my muffins as dessert.”
“That’s three conditions.”
“So sue me for wrongful accounting.”
“Some cases you can’t win.”
“You're a wise man. My influence must be rubbing off at last. I'll tame you yet. Raising Lin’s hand to his lips, David placed a kiss upon it. "What are you going to cook?"
"Depends what you fancy, fish or meat?" Lin stroked his fingers through David's hair.
"I have a fancy for a nice juicy steak. There's some fillet in the freezer."
"Meat eh? My fish dishes are boring is that what you're saying?"
David narrowed his eyes. "Behave. Go and get the steak out of the freezer and while you're in the kitchen you can make me a cup of tea."
Red Sky by Morning
Wiping his mouth on a napkin David leaned back in his chair with a contented sigh. "Wonderful. I love your steak au poivre, and the parsnip and aubergine chips were delicious too. Thank you."
"I thought the steaks were overdone and I put too much brandy in the sauce. I'm definitely losing my touch."
"They were perfect, and you've eaten everything so it can't have been too bad." He stood up. "Are you ready for dessert now?"
“I don’t think I can manage one, David. I’m rather full.”
“Don’t be a spoilsport.” David went to the cupboard where the dishes were kept and got out two dessert bowls, carrying them over to the table along with the plate of muffins, putting them down on the table with pride. “Try one." He put one in a bowl and put it in front of Lin. "They’re rather good, especially with cream.”
Lin eyed the raspberry muffin with all the enthusiasm of a carnivore contemplating a nut cutlet. “In whose judgment?”
“I like them.”
“Well you would.”
Fighting a fast developing desire to deal a sharp slap to his peevish partner's bottom, David tried an appeal to his vanity. “I'd value your professional opinion, if you don't mind.”
“Why didn’t you say so then?" Picking up a cake fork Lin stabbed it into the muffin, breaking it apart, critically examining the pieces. He transferred some into his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. “Hmm, the texture is a tad wet. You’ve been too heavy-handed with the oil. Less rather than more is the secret.”
He took another forkful, chewed, swallowed and pulled a condescending face. “Slightly oversweet too, could do with a modicum less sugar. You should have trusted the chocolate and raspberries to naturally sweeten the mixture.” He patted David’s hand. “Otherwise they're not bad. We might make an adequate cook out of you yet.”
“Thank you,” said David humbly.
“You’re welcome.” Lin pushed the half-eaten muffin aside and picked up the bottle of wine, tilting it. "Not much left, a glass at most. I'll open another one.”
“You will not. You've had enough.” David sequestered the bottle, screwing the top back on. “And so have I. We're going out for a walk. The exercise and fresh air will do us both the world of good.”
"What fresh air, it's like a sauna out there." Lin leaned back in his chair, folding his arms, his face sulky. “Anyway, I thought I was confined to ship?”
“You are, we aren’t. Put your shoes on. We’ll clear up when we get back."
"I don't feel like walking, it's too hot. Go on your own."
A frown drew David's dark eyebrows together. "I didn't ask what you felt like, Lin. I told you to put your shoes on, so do it, or do we need to have another discussion on the subject of obedience?"
Lin rose to his feet at once. He did not want to be on the receiving end of another over the knee lecture.
Despite Henry's predictions there was no sign of rain or cooler air as they walked up the steep path leading to the majestic cliffs above the village. If anything the heat lay even heavier upon the land, draping like a thick woollen blanket around their shoulders as they climbed, making them perspire and long to be able to cast it off.
It was a relief to finally sink down onto the crisp sun dried grass and gaze out across the sea, breathing in the salt air, watching the gulls loop and dive in the pale blue scattering.
Silence reigned between them. Lin stretched out on his front, picking at the faded grass trying not to dwell on how much his bum was aching. David sat cross-legged beside him. He slid a hand under Lin’s t-shirt to rest against the warm, sweat-moist skin of his back.
The birds retired to roost as the sun began a slow descent into the ocean, a giant peach ripening from soft gold to dramatic amaranthine, melting across the rippling waves until it disappeared altogether, leaving the moon free to rise from its ashes.
The scene transmuted into tones of blue and silver offset by the inky blackness of the great cliffs, which had stood sentinel for thousands of years. The sea sent soft waves to whisper messages at their feet. It was beautiful, awe inspiring and yet tranquil.
For the first time in days, Lin relaxed, permitting peace to penetrate him, harmonising mind and body, so he was once again clear about what really mattered to him. He turned to look at David, who was now stretched out on his back. He had one leg bent up, his hands clasped behind his head, as he gazed at the sky watching the stars reveal themselves. “I’m sorry, David.”
“Sorry for what?”
“For getting hysterical about the chapel being sold, for whining and complaining non-stop for days, and for only giving attention to what I want and never giving a second thought to what you might want.”
“There’s no mystery about what I want.” David turned on his side, reaching out a hand to caress Lin's face. “You, our relationship. It's all that’s important to me. I’ll protect it, protect us and our way of life anyway I can.”
“Whether I like it or not.” Lin touched a hand to the one stroking his face, holding it in place.
David gave a small laugh. “I love the way you understand me. Yes, whether you like it or not. You can squall and fuss all you like, it won't make any difference.”
"I don't mean to be difficult all the time. I just want to be someone, David, the best, someone you can be proud of."
"You are someone, love, you're you. If you insist on being labelled then you're the kid who started out as a washer upper and progressed to being one of the most talented and successful chefs in the country and you did it by sheer hard graft and determination."
"I fucked it all up in the end though. I always knew I would. I mess everything up."
"That's enough negativity, Lin." David's voice sharpened and then grew soft again. "You didn't fuck anything up, not a thing. You got ill and needed a change of direction and pace. You're a wonderful cook and writer, and no one can ever take those skills away from you. You don't have to keep trying to prove yourself, least of all to me. I'm immensely proud of you."
"Thank you, David. I'm proud of you too. You've given me more than I ever dreamed of and I love you, brutish bossy man though you are."
"You need a brutish bossy man to keep you in line and keep you safe. Come here, my bonny boy, give me a kiss." David reached for Lin, pulling him into his arms, kissing him with passion.
Their growing ardour was cooled by the sudden arrival of the rain foretold by their neighbour’s climatically attuned bees. Lin broke the kiss with a sigh of regret as light raindrops pattered around them. “I suppose we ought to make our way home.”
“I’ve got a better idea.” David made no effort to move. “Let’s stay here and continue what we were doing and get wonderfully wet.”
“What a pleasant thou…”
“Now then, Mr Jordan, Mr Larkin.”
They both froze as George Crooks dulcet tones sliced through the night air. “This rain will bring better fishing. Will I be seeing you down at the harbour again soon?”
David responded, trying to sound as if it was perfectly normal to be reclining on a dark cliff top in the rain. “I reckon you will, George, at some point. You’re out late this evening.”
“Aye, been at a cards night ower Brunswick way.”
“Any luck?”
“Bugger all,” said George gloomily. “It’s why I’m having to walk ‘ome. Goodnight then.”
“Goodnight, George. Take care.” David gave a sigh of relief as George moved off into the darkness and Lin eased his vice-like grip on his body.
“Has he gone?”
“Yes, now where were we before…”
“Eyup, Mr Jordan, Mr Larkin.”
David winced as Lin’s arms tightened around him again.
Seth Crooks voice echoed through the rain. “Nice evening for it. I just might have a few lobsters to offer you in the morning. I know you’re partial. Shall I call on by?”
“That would be wonderful, Seth, thank you. No luck on the cards I take it?”
“Ah’m telling you, Mr Jordan. I hope the bloody lobsters are more obliging about filling my pots, than luck has been about letting me win a pot tonight. Be seeing you.” He followed his cousin into the darkness.
“What did he mean,” whispered Lin, “nice evening for it? Nice evening for what? What does he think we’re doing? It'll be all over Stanes by tomorrow that yon queer fellas were making out in the rain.”
“Making out, what a sweet expression,” murmured David. He kissed Lin on the lips, unperturbed by the interruptions, and the raindrops, which were gathering pace and falling with determination, drenching them. “I believe everyone should make out in the rain at least once in their lifetime.”
“Don’t mind me, Mr Jordan, Mr Larkin.” Jeff’s voice boomed a damp baritone.
“Don’t tell me, Jeff,” a weary note crept into David’s voice, “you’ve had no luck with the cards tonight either?”
“Cards?” Jeff sounded puzzled. “I know nowt about cards. I’m giving Florrie a last run.” He whistled, getting a bark in return. “Come on, Florrie, good girl.” He crunched through the grass, calling over his shoulder, “this rain will be right grand for the gardens. The plants on my allotment are gagging.”
There was a brief silence after the sound of man and dog had faded away, then a plaintive, “David, can we please go home now, before Henry Medup and his bees arrive to give us an update on the weather? I'll put the shower on a cool sprinkle, throw a few clumps of grass around and we can make out in there. If you close your eyes you won’t know the difference.”
“You’ve sold me. Shower it is.” David stood up hauling Lin with him. “Want a hog up, a piggy back?”
“Piggy back as in a carry down the hill, or as in chapter three of 'Confessions of a Pig Bottom Skinhead'?”
“Forget the carry down the hill.” David slipped an arm around Lin’s shoulders, hugged him and then held out his hand. “If memory serves me right I’ll need to reserve all my strength for re-enacting that scene, especially if you want me to take on the roles of both Tops. I'll use classier dialogue though.”
“If it’s too lowbrow and strenuous for you,” Lin slipped his hand into David's feeling a swell of happiness as they began the walk homewards in the cooling rain. “We could always go upmarket and re-enact a scene from a Jane Austen novel.”
“What, like taking tea and making polite and witty conversation later to be construed as social commentary on the place of women in a male dominated society?”
“We could improvise, bring Janey into the twenty-first century and sex things up a bit by daringly exposing our ankles while listening to the Shipping Forecast on Radio Four. I reckon hearing the words Cromarty, Dogger, Fisher, German, Bight, spoken in BBC tones, would have driven Mr Darcy to ravish Miss Bennet over the cucumber sandwiches. I’ll expect no less from you," said Lin, swinging David's hand as they walked along. "And seeing as the chances of us eating them are slim, I’ll even let you make the sandwiches.”
David was still laughing when they reached Sandstones.
##########
Other stories in the Postcards Series
Fresh From The Sea
Storm In A Teacup
Puzzled by certain words?
Glossary of dialect words:
http://www.fabianblackromance.com/glossary.php