37

Chaz could feel the wind buffeting the side of his Land Rover, even in this sheltered section of the Spine. Alan had Classic FM on the radio, an operatic piece by Puccini. Alan loved Puccini and had been trying to teach Chaz more about classical music. He liked some of it, even some opera, but he remained firmly a contemporary music guy. Still, he put up with it because Alan liked it. That’s what partners did.

Partners. He’d never actually thought of Alan in that way. They were pals, sure, lovers certainly, but he’d never thought of it as something stronger. Until tonight. Until Alan said he might leave the island and he wanted Chaz to go with him. The thought of losing him had stabbed at him. He didn’t want Alan to go, but knew he had to. There was nothing for him on the island; his flat came with the job, and if he stayed there was no work, so he wouldn’t be able to rent. Chaz’s parents fully accepted their son’s sexual orientation, but would they be happy for him to sleep with Alan under their roof? The islanders were funny. Alan’s comment about the only gays in the village wasn’t accurate; there were others. But on the island it was all kept under the radar. The younger islanders were more open-minded, but there was a thread of distaste among a few of the older locals. Most tended to accept it, or at least ignore it in a live-and-let-live way, but there were a few who were unforgiving. He knew his dad had lost patients when it became known that Chaz was gay. They insisted on seeing the other doctor and travelled the length of the island to attend her surgery. One patient had said she didn’t want to be examined by a man who had filth in his blood, as if Chaz’s father was carrying some kind of contaminant that had infected his son. So if Alan moved in with them, what would other patients think?

And then there was the moron squad. They were young but they never missed an opportunity to make their homophobia known. Sometimes it was a goading comment, other times a smirk and kissing noises as they passed. Once they even slashed Chaz’s tyres. He knew it was them. They were the only ones stupid enough.

Alan was singing along to the aria, his eyes closed. Chaz shot him a look and smiled. Alan couldn’t sing a note but he liked to try. Chaz loved that about him.

He turned his attention back to the road, compensating slightly when a hefty gust caught the side of the vehicle. Partners. Love. He hadn’t analysed their relationship until now. He’d just let it happen. Neither of them had used the word love. Yes, the sex was good and they were relaxed in each other’s company. They could even sit silently together without ever feeling the need to begin a meaningless conversation. They were compatible, a matching set. But now, with the prospect of Alan leaving, he knew he had to make a decision. A commitment was necessary and even though he had hesitated, he now knew, deep down, what the answer would be.

He stared through the windscreen, the wiper swiping furiously at the rain. He didn’t need daylight to know where he was; he’d driven this road since he was a boy, his father beside him, road regulations being customarily flouted on the island. There wasn’t that much traffic, even on the Spine, and Chaz couldn’t remember the last time there was a crash.

He’d miss the island. He’d miss its funny little ways and the fact he could turn a corner and find a new bit of history or mythology. He’d miss the way the past still lived in the stone and breathed in the hills. But it was time to move on. Time for the next great adventure . . .

Headlights filled his rear-view. Some idiot had them on full beam and the reflection seared his eyes, so he twisted the mirror away slightly. Whoever it was behind him was really travelling and was right on his tail. It was another Land Rover, he could tell that. Then they turned on an array of spotlights on top of the cab and the interior of Chaz’s vehicle exploded with light. Even Alan, whose eyes had been closed, became aware and twisted round in his seat, one hand raised to block the harsh glare.

‘What the fu—’ he said.

And then they felt the first bump. It wasn’t much more than a nudge, but it was clear the vehicle behind had hit them. It pulled back then and Chaz gently depressed the brake, hoping they would pass by, but the big 4x4 barrelled towards them and bumped their rear once more. The Land Rover lurched forward and both he and Alan jerked backwards with the force of the blow. Chaz fought with the wheel, as it wiggled out of control.

The vehicle behind fell back again. The lights receded, so Chaz hit the accelerator and sped on, eyes darting to the rear-view. The vehicle had slowed and its lights vanished when he topped a rise in the road and dropped down the other side.

‘Who the hell was that idiot?’ Alan asked, his voice shaking.

Chaz didn’t answer. He had a suspicion. Only the moron squad would be reckless enough to do something like that. They’d probably been getting themselves all hopped up on something since the news of Carl Marsh’s death. They idolised that man, Chaz never understood why. On the other hand, birds of a feather . . .

And then he saw the lights again, first the glow growing stronger as their Land Rover neared the top of the hill and then the full eruption as it careered towards them once more.

‘Dear God,’ he said softly.

He thought they were going to really slam into them this time, but why? What the hell was this all about? He rammed his foot down and surged ahead. The wind was stronger on this stretch of road and he felt it try to snatch control from his grip. He turned the wheel against it, kept the nose steady, glanced in the rear-view, saw they were almost upon them and they were faster and they were heavier: he had felt that with the first bump. But there was nothing he could do, nowhere he could turn to avoid them: on the right was a ditch between the road and open moorland stretching to the hills, on the left was a narrow verge that dipped sharply to the rocky coastline.

‘Chaz,’ said Alan, just as the vehicle steamed directly behind them, its lights burning, its engine the roar of an angry beast.

‘I know,’ said Chaz.

Then, just as Chaz braced himself for a ferocious crunch, it veered to the right and overtook them, the driver pumping the horn. They saw a couple of blurred faces grinning at them and heard whooping and jeering as the long wheelbase Land Rover dodged ahead of them. It veered in their path then zoomed ahead, the horn still blaring, until it rounded a bend and was obscured by foliage at the side of the road.

The tension eased from Chaz’s body and his grip on the steering wheel relaxed. He realised then that his knuckles ached from squeezing so hard.

‘Bloody idiots,’ said Alan, his voice trembling from the tension.

‘That’s why we call them the moron squad,’ said Chaz, shooting Alan a look. There came a smile in return, and though a pale ghost of a thing, a smile all the same. Chaz flashed his own back.

But then the smile died. Alan sat bolt upright and screamed his name as his hands shot out in front of him to slam against the dashboard. Chaz looked back to the road—he’d only looked away for a second—and he saw the other Land Rover ahead of them. He jerked the wheel and veered into the other lane, but the vehicle began to move as he drew level with it and swiftly picked up speed to run alongside. He glanced past Alan and saw the grinning face of the driver. The boy actually waved, as if saying hello. Chaz rammed his foot down on the accelerator to try to pull ahead but the idiots maintained their speed. The road twisted and turned as they neared the section overlooking the Seven Sisters. The needle edged up to sixty, which was as fast as Chaz dared go, even on a road he knew well. The idiots, the absolute bloody idiots! Both engines screeched as they jockeyed for position.

Chaz took his foot off the gas to let them push ahead. It would allow him to tuck himself in behind them. But the driver was ready for that and he did the same. Chaz hit the pedal, hoping he could gather enough velocity to surge beyond, but they matched him again. And then, just as they swerved neck-and-neck around a bend, he saw a set of lights coming towards him.

For a brief moment he didn’t know what to do. The speeding vehicle beside him didn’t give an inch, the lights ahead were hurtling his way.

He heard Alan say his name, quietly, almost a whisper, perhaps even a prayer.

He hit the brakes too hard. The Land Rover skidded on the road, slick with rain, mounted the verge and took off into the air before it plunged towards the rocks, the noise of its engine now the shriek of a terrified creature. Alan screamed his name once more as the jagged edge of one of the Seven Sisters rose sharply in the headlights.