The smell of cleaning fluid and dust hangs heavy in the air. Why do people never clean cleaning cupboards? Joe fastens up his soft leather belt and smiles in satisfaction at the man who is peering out of the door into the corridor. Rescuing his shoes from a bottle laden shelf Joe sits on a sturdy looking box marked highly flammable.
Tim glances back with a smirk on his face lighting up his dark eyes, 'That was fun. Coast is clear. Same time next week?'
'Shirt!' The expression on Joe's face brimming with mischief. 'I so do not want to be disciplining you later.'
Aghast, Tim quickly shuts the door and looks down. The bright-red shirt is hanging free. He rolls his eyes. 'Holy crap! I already get enough questions about where I go Thursday lunchtime.' The shirt is rammed into his pants and a hand run through his thick dark curls Tim grins at Joe. 'Discipline could be fun, would give me another reason to drop me trousers and bend over the bucket.' Finally the garish red and yellow checked tie is straightened, 'Will that do?'
Shoelaces tied Joe stands up. Elegant long fingers wrap round Tim's waistband and Joe tugs him closer, 'Not quite.' Joe takes a deep breath, and concentrates on getting Tim neatly attired. Avoiding the desire to lock lips and remove the bloody awful tie Joe says, 'You look hot.' He makes the mistake of staring deeper into Tim's eyes. Why did this one man have this effect on him? Not since his teens had Joe wanted to constantly hop into bed with someone.
Tim opens the door and looks back, 'Corridor's deserted. I am just guess you still don't find me hot enough to come to my place for dinner?'
Joe closes his eyes tight and shakes his head slowly. 'No. I just can't.' He really wants to say oh bugger this, lets go AWOL and spend the afternoon rolling around in the sack. He opens his lids slightly, Tim has already left. Shaking himself Joe stands up and takes his suit jacket from the top of a mop. Distracted with thoughts about the latest exchange with Tim he fumbles to get his cold rimmed glasses out of the breast pocket. Glasses in place he puts his jacket on over his waistcoat and exits out into the corridor of the Victorian police station. Head up straight and concentrating on getting to the office he nods to the member of support staff that passed. She is new he has yet to say hello, someone said her name was Mary. Her smile indicates either no one has told her or it wouldn't be the first time someone had stirred trouble building up something that wasn't there. Joe takes a mental note to speak to her and let her know.
Having been part of the fabric of the police station for decades he had long ceased to notice the functional décor. Umber Bridge had grown since the sixties with huge new estates built on the outskirts. The long promised police station to cope with the increased police force had yet to be built, they were still all squashed in the one designed to cope with the middle sized market town. Joe's hand grasps the door handle and he steps into his office. The cleaning cupboard is bigger, the shoebox he had been given on his promotion had enough room for a desk and a couple of chairs. The phone on his desk is already ringing and he picks it up. Perched on the end of the desk with it under his chin he picks up the yearly reviews on his desk. 'Sir.' Joe sits up straighter, puts down the paperwork and tugs his waistcoat into place. 'Yes Sir I am available this afternoon …there has been an incident at the Hall … The Earl asked for me personally how nice.' Joe bites his lip, Henderskelfe Hall is the last place he wants to go. Place full of childhood memories. 'Golf, wonderful when?' He crosses his fingers behind his back, last thing he wants is to spend time networking on a golf course on his day off. 'Wednesday, hmm sorry no have promised my Aunt a day out in North Allerswick.' Fingers turn white as he hopes she will back him up in his deception. 'Thank you Sir.' Replacing the receiver he glances out of the piece of glazing that was meant to be a window, about arrow slit size it did very little to let light into the room. Especially today the dark clouds were hanging heavy in the sky. Looks cold. He grabs his maroon scarf and wraps it round his neck, the impeccably tailored grey overcoat rests over his arm and in his hand is his grey fedora hat. Back into the well trodden corridor and he heads upstairs to the main CID office. Through the double glazing doors he skirts round the bucket placed there to catch the leaks and he glances round. Bugger! Damn! All the desks except one are empty. Sat with his feet on the desk and a mug in his hand is Tim bloody Black. A big toe peeps out from the stripy socks in greeting. Tim looks up from the report in his hand and smiles. He raises his mug, 'Hey, Guv. Can I help?'
Joe decides there must be an alternative. He cannot work with him it had disaster on every level written all it. 'Is Mustard in?' he says through gritted teeth.
'In his office. He wafted past about ten minutes ago.' Tim's smirks.
Joe's jaw hardens, 'Respect.' Damn sure Tim isn't getting any concessions for being an arrangement. It was sex nothing else. How dare he try to take liberties like this. Tim placed a huge dilemma on his senior officers, those that worked with him found him fun, but he was disrespectful. Inspector Mustard constantly complained about DS Black's slovenly appearance, lack of respect and laziness. This was matched with almost as many letters from members of the public singing his praises and thanking DS Black for his work. Joe fights with a potted palm and knocks on the Inspector's red office door.
'Enter.' Sniff. Joe stiffens blasted man sounds like he has a cold. Just what he needs sickness going round the squad. Trust the inconsiderate man to come into work ill. He opens the door and stands in the office littered with plants and paperwork. Not for the first time Joe regretted the promotion that had seen him isolated at the other end of the station in a much smaller office. My goodness this man has made a mess of it. Despite his words to Tim, Joe's eyes are watering with the smell.
Mustard looks up from his paperwork, 'What do you want, Cream?'//
Joe glares. Was disrespect becoming endemic in the squad? 'DS Grey started her maternity leave yesterday. I need an officer to visit the Hall with.'
Mustard uses his fore finger and thumb to smooth down the moustache he is trying to grow. 'Take Black. Not like he is actually doing anything out there.'
Joe's eyes close for a minute giving him time to deal with the smell, irritation and general panic. 'Is there no one else?'
Mustard leans back in his chair placing his arms behind his head revealing yellowing patches around his armpits, 'You keep telling me to deal with the shit. Well now is your chance to show me how its done. You can whip him into shape.'
An image floats past that Joe works hard to dispel last thing he needs is a bloody hard on whilst dealing with the repulsive man. He just nods, 'Thanks for your help.' He marches back out of the office into the main room and puts his hat on his head. Feeling in his pockets he finds his marroon leather gloves and barks in Tim's direction, 'Black, with me. Don't dawdle.'
Tim sits up, places his cup and paperwork on the desk and looks up at Joe. 'Anything interesting.'
Joe shrugs, 'Could be there has been an incident up at the Hall. The Earl requested me.'
'Nice.' Tim is standing up and picking up a loud red checked coat with a black hood up from the back of his chair and ramming his feet into brown sheepskin lined boots.
Eyes rolling, Joe asks, 'Have you not got another coat?'
'Weather forecast says it's going to snow. Would rather looks stupid than be cold and stupid.' The bright outfit is completed with a purple backpack with a bear on it.
'What's with the bear?' Joe starts heading for the doors.
'Grumpy Care Bear. Reminded me of the Mustard.' Tim slings it on his back and follows Joe out.
Joe grins and leans towards him. 'Almost funny but highly disrespectful. Please remember we are on duty.'
'I take my duty very seriously, Guv.'
The unexpected gravitas in Tim's voice causes Joe to look at him. Everything about Tim's demeanour suggests he is serious. Guess maybe this job is more than just a lark to him. It seemed at odds with every report Mustard had sent across Joe's desk. Joe's eyes grow wide, he had reached the bottom of the stairs only to have a brightly coloured mass go shooting past him on the baister. 'Black, do you know how many health and safety rules you just broke.'
' 'Bout twenty-four, Guv. I was brought up to understand rules before I broke em. At thirty-five as long as the banister doesn't give way I am unlikely to experience serious injury.' Tim's back is defiant as he walks past Joe, nods to Hector the desk sergeant and opens the door to the carpark. By the time he is turned to face Joe the smile is back on his face.
Joe stops briefly by the reception desk, 'How's Parthenope, Hector?'
'Doin' much better than you Joseph. She'll be back on her feet soon. Thinks the world of those flowers you sent her.' Hector offers him a crisp and winks. 'Thanks for signing them from me. I owe you, pal.'
'Don't mention it, Hector. You and Parthenope have been fantastic to me. I knew you were too worried to think.' He nods towards Tim, 'Anyway better go have an appointment up at the hall.'
Hector's eyes roll, 'Sure you two working together is a good idea?'
Tim looks at him in surprise. Joe pats his shoulder, 'Nope, but looks like we are stuck with each other.' Joe walks past Tim and down the steps into the carpark.
Tim's voice comes from behind laced with surprise, 'I thought we are guard it with your life secret, Guv?'
'Not much escapes Hector, figured it was safer to keep him sweet instead.' A red Land Rover under the roof of what used to be the stables flashes as Joe takes the keys out of his pocket.
'Nice car, Guv.'
'My Aunts insisted I had something sensible.' He looks up at the sky, 'And today we might be glad of it.' Joe opens the car door and throws his hat on the back seat.//
'Shouldn't I be driving?' Tim opens the passenger side and hurls his jacket and the bag onto the backseat. //
'I've seen you drive and filled out the paperwork for that smash you had last year.' Joe feels a pang knowing damn well that was a low blow. He quietly sits down in his seat and fastens his belt.
Tim flings himself into the passenger seat, 'Well if you filled in the fucking paperwork you know what happened. You also know if I hadn't crashed a lot of people would've been hurt.' He glares straight ahead. His face resembling a child about to have a tantrum. Why was it that Joe suddenly wanted to kiss the sod better.
'Sorry I deserved that. It's my pride and joy, no one else gets to drive it, OK?' Joe places the key in the iginition.
'That I understand. Have you got any music?'
'Put your seatbelt on and try the glovebox.' Joe turns the key.
'Yes Mum.' Tim clips himself in and takes the leather CD case out and begins to go through it. 'What self-respecting gay man has this as his music collection?'
'What do you mean?'
'Nothing recognisable. All sorts of classical muck.' He continues to flick. 'Not even Kylie or even flipping Barbara Streisand.' He sighs, 'Remind me if I am going to be working more often with you to bring some with me.'
'Try the back.' Joe rolls his eyes, 'Some Abba and eighties power ballads my last boyfriend left behind.' He smirks, 'Anyway Jason was more my thing.'
Tim pulls a face and slips in Abba Gold. 'Guess it will have to do. Want to dance with me my queen?'
'Very funny, I'm driving.' Working with DS Grey had been so much easier she was as antisocial as Joe, they worked well together. A journey like this they would have been silent or just discussed the case. It was the first time he had managed to keep a partner for more than a few months and her maternity leave had been a huge blow to him. Bloody inconvenient. Not to mention he needed to find some sort of gift for the impending arrival. Better ask his Aunts, although not sure either of them had any idea about what a baby needed. He was their only child and when they picked him up from the hospital he was a boy of ten. He had to admit Dancing Queen was kind of catchy. Just not his usual thing. The surprise was the deep baritone voice tunefully singing along in the passenger seat. Joe had imagined Tim as a little tone deaf. 'You sing very well.'
'Gran made me join the choir. I like music even that classical stuff you have in you case, just not whilst I'm working. Will bring something else in tomorrow.' Tim dances in time to the music.
Joe giggled, 'You realise this is the first conversation we have ever had.' The only time he had ever spoken to Tim outside the cupboard was work related. Somehow the boorish oaf he had imagined was entertaining and intelligent. The car continues over the medieval bridge and out onto the Roman Road through the forest. Usually bright green and a delight to watch the dark heavy sky is sucking the colour out of its surroundings.
'Yeah it has taken me a year of dropping me drawers to get a brief conversation.' Tim smiles. 'Next turn on the left.'
'I know. Spent a lot of time here once upon a time.' Joe felt a long forgotten pain stabbing him. Damn! This was going to bring everything to the forefront of his life.
'Might've known you'd mix with the hoi-poloi of North Pennshire. What were you the Earl's rent boy?' Tim's face was full of mirth but he could not have hurt Joe anymore if he had known what he was doing.
Tears fill Joe's eyes. 'Something like that.' He grins at the sign post that reads 'NO TRESSPASSING'.
'Better behave ourselves or Wilf'll shoot.'
Joe's head snaps to the side and he stares at Tim in astonishment. 'What the? You know Wilf?'
'Yep he's me pa's best mate. Used to show me how to shoot and fish.'
'He hates me.' Joe remembers he is driving and focus's on the straight tree-lined driveway that seems to go on forever. Memories of returning from school laughing and looking forward to the holidays are replaced by freakish images of blood and bones. Damn my memory to hell Joe says to himself as he tries to remember what happened to him. Almost by instinct he parks on the sweeping gravel driveway in front of the large baroque stately home. One of the few still private except to visitors who phone in advance for a tour. The large dome rises up somehow at odds with the rest of the building. It has always looked a bit like a later addition, like so many of these English country houses it has taken shape over many centuries. Fashions change and some work better than others. Joe leans back and grabs his hat and coat from the back.
He feels a gentle hand on his back, 'Guv, you sure you are OK?'
Joe nods. 'Just old memories I'd rather not revisit. I apologise ahead of time if I seem bad tempered.' He gets out of the car and looks down to see a small lurcher wagging his tail. Probably a cross between a whippet and a Jack Russell. He whispers, 'Not now, Graeme. Please.' The imaginary friend from childhood had refused to go away. It had taken Joe until his late twenties to be convinced that Graeme was just a fixture in his life and not a sign of some deep entrenched mental illness. However he really didn't want to tell Tim that at coming up for forty his best friend was an imaginary hound. Not to mention the Earl would know who Graeme was. It was the kind o situation Graeme would appear at when Joe felt out of control with life. Looks like the blasted animal had no intention of leaving and follows at Joe's heel up the sweeping stone staircase to the front door.
He catches hold of Tim's arm as his companion is about to perform a policeman's knock on the glass door. Joe says, 'Manners.' He reaches past Tim very aware of the body heat coming from him and pushes the old fashioned doorbell.
Tim's lips betray his excitement at being so close to Joe, 'Aw come on, Guv I didn't become a copper so I could knock politely.'
Joe closes his eyes to prevent him responding to Tim's comment or the excited yip down by his ankles. Graeme seems to approve of Tim and is sniffing round the heavy duty boots. The door flies open and a petite blonde lady is stood in front of them. She is wearing a sea-green maid uniform. 'Can I help you, gentlemen?' she says.
Taking his warrant card out of his breast pocket Joe shows it to her, and uses it to indicate Tim, 'DCI Cream and this is DS Black. The Earl reported an incident.'
She pays attention to the warrant card and nods, 'Glad you are here it has been an awful morning.'
'What has happened?' Joe forgets himself and shows concern. As he speaks a small child comes barrelling out of the house and down the stairs sobbing. //
The maid shouts, 'Trenton Henderskelfe you get right back in here.'//
Tim holds up his hand, 'Don't worry Ma'am I'll take care of the lad, you take DCI Cream to see his Lordship.' He turns and heads down the stone staircase after the boy and starts running after him. //
Leaving Joe alone. Joe hands his coat and hat to Lily, 'Where is Lord White-Bay?'//
'In his study with Lady White-Bay, Sir.' She smiles, 'Follow me.'//
'I know the way if you have other things to do.' He starts to follow her through the panelled door into the turquoise drawing-room. It was still decorated with the same turquoise damask wallpaper and creepy portraits. Joe scans the room looking for the gloomy man he is descended from, there he is small portrait above the door in the far right corner. Sat next to his miserable looking wife in her pearl decorated rough and velvet gown, they dripped medieval luxury. Their daughter Anne had married Thomas Cream. Lily leads him through the same door and through into a corridor. She opens a familiar plain oak door and Joe walks past her into the room.//
A thick set man with jowls comes towards him with a big smile on his face, 'Joseph, how lovely to see you after so long.' Joe endures the bear hug.
'Mark nice to see you. Why did you call?' He looks round, 'Where is Emma?'
'Trenton had a row with her and ran off.' Mark shifts uneasily, 'We didn't feel it was safe after what had happened today so she went after him.'
'What has happened? No one has said anything.' Joe looks round like he expects to find a body.
'Follow me.' Mark opens the lattice doors out onto the immaculate lawns. Usually the view panned out to the sea below the cliffs the house is built on, but the visibility is low with the bad weather.
He follows Mark as he heads towards the lake. Joe is getting slower with every footstep. The last summer he had spent here, Joe had spent most of it on the lake with Mark's son Toby. It had been the first year that they had been allowed there without parental supervision, and they had felt free and grown up. He glances back at the house, sat on the balcony outside the study is Tim and Trenton. They are playing and laughing. Tears cause Joe's visibility to decrease even further and he stumbles tripping over a stone.
He feels the lick as Graeme checks he is alright then Mark hauls him to his feet, 'You OK, son?'
Joe cringes wanting to scream out, No I am not bloody Ok. You brought me here you bastard and expect me to cope. In response to the question Joe just nods, 'I'm fine. This is just harder than I expected.'
'We've missed you here. I know it must be difficult since Toby …' As Mark speaks they are walking round the lake making a beeline for the boat house.
'It's not so much difficult as I can't remember. I get all these flashes, everything mingles together.' The instinctive and familiar feeling runs down his arms as he balls his fists, and he tries to force the images away. He resists the urge to pick up Graeme. Some days the dog let himself be cuddled like a child's special toy.
'The reason for you being called is in here. It isn't pretty.' Mark's usual relaxed demeanour has tensed, 'I've been trying to keep this away from Emma and Little T. Wilf and I found it earlier. Why I wanted you, I knew you would help protect my family do this in the least painful way possible.' He opens the door. 'Be prepared, it is something you have seen before.'
Joe turns eyes full of heightened panic towards him, 'What is it?' As his head turns he catches sight of it. Swinging back and forth on the rope in the centre. The bile is travelling up into Joe's throat. Acid stinging his throat and vomit creating a lump. He swallows hard, closes his eyes and begins to breathe. His Aunt Lavender's meditation techniques always helped. This time the panic doesn't recede. The smell is worse. The skinned carcass. His gut knows he has seen this before. His memory fails him, something itching right at the back of his skull refuses to fire into a full blown remembrance. He points, 'I … is th … that a pig?'
Mark nods, 'You really don't remember?'
Joe shakes his head, biting his lip hard. 'No.'
'You and Toby found a similar sight your last summer here. It was missing the clothing.' Mark turns his head, 'Not sure if it means anything?'
Steeling his will Joe takes a step forward, 'Oh god you recognise it?'
'Of course it is Brenton Hall Prep's uniform. At least it used to be. How do we handle this, Joe?' This time Mark is beginning to show signs of panic. 'Do I make it an official investigation or not? I am not sure I can handle police crawling all over the estate again.'
Gritting his teeth, Joe says, 'Let's get out of here. I need to clear my head.' He lurches to the door barely making it before throwing up over the veranda side into the lake. 'Mark, I am so sorry. I should be more professional.'
Mark is rubbing Joe's back, 'Kid, this is as much personal, as professional. I have to say I am scared for Trenton. I … I can't lose another child Joe. I've already lost two to this mess.'
'You still have Caro?' Joe turns.
Mark's head shakes. 'She has never been the same.' His eyes fill with tears. 'It is almost worse than the not knowing what happened to Toby. Since he went she has barely come out of her room or spoken.'
Joe's eyes can no longer hold back the tears they are misting up his glasses. He can't look at Mark, 'It is all my fault.'
'Oh son, No! Never. You were nine years old.' His hand continues to rub Joe's back. 'We just don't know what happened. In some ways I wish he was dead which sounds terrible.'
'Maybe if I could remember. ' Joe looks at the boat house. 'I think we should make this official.' He takes his glasses off to clean them. 'It maybe connected to what happened to Toby. We would also both be in a worse state if something happened to your youngest son.'
'I'm placing myself in your hands.' Mark turns and starts to head back to the house as Joe digs out his phone.
Slow and thoughtful he calls the station and requests a scene of crime officer. Maybe some fibre, something would tell them why he had to face this today. Mark lifts up young Trenton twirls him round and takes him back inside the house leaving Tim with Emma. The total bastard he is making eyes at her. Staring right at her ample breasts primly displayed in a white blouse. How dare he. Right in front of Joe. From the depths all the days emotion begins rising as jealousy and anger aimed at the scene in front of him. The shit kisses Emma's hand. Joe sweeps past them into the house, grabs his hat and coat from Lily and marches through the house and out the front door.
How dare he! Right in front of him making great puppy brown eyes at Lady White-Bay. The total shit could he have flaunted himself anymore. Why didn't he just get his trousers off and ask Mark to join in the orgy. He dashes down the stone staircase anything to get away. Why the hell did he come here this morning, he should have sent someone else. This place has too many emotions. The tear escaping is hot against his cheek as a tight grip pulls him round. Joe is staring right into those deep puppy dog eyes and there is nothing seductive about them right now. Tim's face is angry, his jacket unfastened. He spits in Joe's face as he says, 'What the fuck are you playing at, Joe?'
'We're on duty.' Joe uses his gloved hand to wipe his face, 'Respect.'
'That had bugger all to do with duty or respect and you damn well know it. What is your fucking problem?;' Tim's nose is right up against Joe and the grip round Joe's arm constricts further.
Joe is so angry he registers the threat but doesn't feel the pain. He feels his fist ball. He will not breathe he wants to be furious. 'You in there, making those doe eyes at Lady White-Bay's tits right in front of me. How could you?'
Tim releases him and glares, 'What the crap has that got to do with you?'
Joe looks down at his feet. 'We have an arrangement.' He bites the inside of his cheek. The anger is abating a little. //
'Even if I want to have sex in the middle of the drawing-room with Lady White-Bay what the hell is it to you?' Tim's fist is balled and in his hand. //
Joe holds his hand up, 'Tim, please I am sorry.' //
'Not good enough, Cream. As you so eloquently put it I am an arrangement.' Tim's nostrils flare, 'I asked you for more. You said it would be an unnecessary …' Tim uses his fingers as quotes, 'Inconvenience, So again what the shite has it to do with you who else I fuck? His nails are biting into his ungloved hand. Tim doesn't seem to be noticing the cold. 'All I will ever be to you is pull your pants down, bend over the bucket, Tim.'
The air stood still. No thought involved in either motion as Joe slaps Tim's face so hard he recoils, in slow motion Tim comes back and lands a fist in Joe's face.
Joe looks at Tim, his eyes register shock and pain. Turning he gets into the car. Before Tim can open the passenger door Joe takes off. Tim watches as he drives away and starts to walk down the long driveway to the road.
Crap! The slap really stings. The total shit nothing in that exchange was fair. How dare Joe presume anything about Tim's love life. It's not as if he hadn't asked the shit out on a date, he'd wanted to make it more. Oh no Joseph Cream had said. The cleaning cupboard was all he needed for everyone. Bastard why did Tim have to fall for someone who didn't give a damn. Confused he feels his cheek, if Joe didn't give a flying fuck what was that all about. Tim digs in his pocket and dials the familiar number. He takes a deep breath and places his phone to his ear as it rings, 'Come on, answer please. I need you.' He says to thin air, 'Dad … ' He bangs his phone against his hand tears in his eyes, answerphone. What the hell. Turning he heads through the familiar woods to the gamekeepers cottage. He ducks under the branches walking off the path anything to get there sooner. Coming from a noisy household whilst he often appreciated the peace of living alone with his cats times like this he needed someone, anyone. He approaches the small Hansel and Gretel type cottage in the woods. Small with smoke wistfully blowing from the chimney up towards the dark oppressive clouds. Sooner it bloody snowed the better. Rapping on the door he blows on his hands regretting leaving his gloves behind at the Hall.
From behind him, 'Lad, you here about the nasty pig business at the hall?' Tim's brow furrows, what pig business. He turns to face Wilf aware with the fight he has no idea why the police had been called to see the Earl. The tall, grey bearded man, gently touches Tims face. 'What the hell happened to you?'
'Joe and me.' Tim sniffs. 'Please, Wilf, can I come in?'
Wilf nods and unlocks the door, 'Come on in. If nothing else you can get warm.' The door opens to a comfortable kitchen, a squishy worn sofa and sixties orange units seem at odds with the Victorian home, but Wilf had refused the Earl's offer to update. 'Take a seat by the fire lad. Coffee or do you want summat stronger?'
'Coffee. I'm on duty. Did you find the pig?'
'Yep, nasty business. No wonder young Cream was out of kilter.' Wilf stows his gun in the locked cabinet and crosses to the kettle.
'Wilf?' Tim looks at him surprised.
'Did he not tell you, lad?' Kettle is boiling away nicely and Wilf rummages through his under-counter freezer.
'He didn't tell me anything. Went off on one because I was …' Tim uses finger quotes again, 'Flirting with Lady White-Bay.' He takes the frozen peas off an amused Wilf. 'Is the cheek that bad?'
'Looks like your gonna bruise.' He laughs slightly as he goes back to make the coffee, 'Did ya tell him you were gay?'
'I been having sex with him for over a year. Figured he may have guessed the Earl was more my type even with the spare tyre.' Tim winces as he puts the peas against his cheek. This is confusing him more what about the bloody pig. 'What happened with the pig?' With his left hand he fishes out his notebook and pen.
Wilf puts the coffee on the table in front of him and takes the pen off Tim, 'Wait til you hear the full story then write it up.'
Tim nods and trades the peas for the coffee. 'Alright.' He settles back and looks at the man his father had counted as a best friend and lover for many years. In many ways Wilf had occupied a similar space in life to Tim. Although the gamekeeper's cottage was luxury in comparison to the broom cupboard. The past year with Joe had brought him closer to the man his Dad had introduced him to when he came out. Right now he is staring into the wood fire his face unreadable. His reluctance to talk is a surprise usually they were chatting away by now. Deciding against disturbing him Tim sinks further into the sofa and stairs ahead in comfortable silence.
'It was thirty years ago.' Still staring into the fire Wilf takes a sip from his mug.
Tim swirls the dregs in his mug. 'What was?'
'The last time a skinned pig was found swinging from rafters of the boathouse.' Wilf shivers in spite of the heat from the fire. 'It twas the summer before the lad went missing.'
'The Earl's son. I heard about it Dad was in charge of the case.'
'It were how we met.' Wilf stands up and takes the peas back to the freezer. He doesn't like waste. 'The lads found the first one.'
'Which lads?' Tim turns away trying not to show his frustration this was like pulling teeth.
'Lord Maltby and Lord Joseph Cream. Well that's his name now.' Wilf starts making sandwiches. Almost on autopilot, 'Only nine they were. Went to get the row boat out to take on the lake. The thing was stinking, think it had been killed somewhere else. No blood. It was skinned right down to the skeleton.' He picks up a jar, 'Pickle?'
'Please. When did Joe become a Lord and what did the police say?' Tim leans against the worktop his head on the side. This was all bloody cryptic. The thought of his dad's reaction if he found out he had been rude to Wilf was all that was keeping him polite right now.
'Lad, bear with me.' He smears some Branston on the beef sandwiches. 'Joe is the son of the Duke of Dunloss.' He cuts the sandwiches in half – triangles. 'We didn't call the police, the Duke, and the Earl decided not to and asked me to dispose of it quietly. I think they thought the boys had done it.' He puts the sandwiches on old fashioned brown side plates. The ones with orange flowers and pushes it over to Tim.
Tim is skeptical and his face twists in response to the thoughts going through his mind, 'The idea of Joe skinning a pig sits a bit uneasy with me.' He pauses with the sandwich halfway to his mouth. 'Or did he have a higher tolerance for muck when he was a kid?'
Wilf thought, 'Not sure to be honest he was only here over the summer usually. My busiest times. Certainly Toby was not above killing and skinning a rabbit.' He takes a bite and pauses clearly deep in thought, 'Today is the anniversary of when they think Toby went missing.'
'They think?' Tim crosses to the kettle to make another coffee.
'He ran away from school. Joe covered for him, it was the week after the Countess had died and Toby wanted to get home. At least that is what the lad said.'
Tim picks up the kettle deep in thought. 'You doubt his account?'
'I know the Earl doesn't. He has always adored him. However you Joe never came back to visit. Seems like a guilty conscience to me.' Wilf picks up a cucumber that has fallen out of his sandwich. 'Whole thing is a nasty business. That pig today was a message to someone – it was wearing a Brenton Hall Prep uniform. Where Joe and Toby went.'
The switch clicks with that satisfying noise. 'You think he knew more than he let on?'
'Lad claimed amnesia. Two weeks later he was expelled from the school because of some kind of incident.' Wilf shrugs. 'His Aunts took him in. Not even his own father wanted owt to do with him.'
Tim puts the cups down and takes his phone out his pocket. 'Got a message. Joe wants to talk.' He sighs. 'I ought to meet him. Can I borrow your car?'
'I'll take you into Umber Bridge. Just be careful, lad. This is a whole nasty weird business and that man of yours is right at the centre of it.' He is waggling a finger at him.
'Call it a copper's gut, Wilf. I think Joe Cream is a goodun. I can't really see that changing.' Tim sends the text to Joe asking to meet at a bench in the park.
Wilf has his Barbour jacket on and is opening the door, 'Come on then. Hope you are right, lad.' He waits for Tim to come out and locks up. 'Make sure you run all this by your pa.'
***
Frost is making it hard to see. The park is going dark early with the weather. Threadbare trees give the dull pond an eerie outline. 'Sorry.' The word comes quietly from behind Tim's back. He wonders whether to open his eyes. After a year of being used Tim wants to make him suffer. Hurt! Finally he has the upper hand. This is hard. Never been good at holding a grudge. The sorry was so plaintive, pathetic. Joe sounds like he needs holding tight.
The disembodied voice speaks again, 'I'd like to come for dinner. If you ever want to see me again.' This time the voice is cracking. Tim is using everything in him not to bend to this. It's hard even with his Gran in his head telling him not to let any man use him. 'Please.'
Unable to bear Joe's pain any longer Tim opens his eyes and stands up. He turns. Time stands still as Tim stares into the red, puffy eyes. The strong, together man is gone. In front of him is a broken man. In slow motion he steps round the bench, Joe seems frozen to the spot. Searching Tim's face. Presumably looking for clues as to his intentions. Tim places his arms round Joe and leans in for the kiss. The warmth of Joe's breath melting his breath. The world carries on around them as their lips make contact. Snow begins to fall, but neither men notice the cold flakes. Tim takes a deep breath and steps back. Smile playing round the corners of his mouth he gently touches Joe's eye, 'Suits you. Gives you a rugged look?'
Joe looks away. Tim is trying to read his reactions he never could tell what was going through the man's mind. Everything about him is small and childlike. Tim rubs his back. 'Hon, how about we go back to my place and clean up?'
Joe nods and allows Tim to lead him across the park. The Victorian park is just behind the market place. 'I … I have a lot to tell you and …'
'Have a shower first.' They turn off down a dark alley way. Tim resists the urge to quip about coming up his alley. Everything about Joe is misery. The door at the end leads to Tim's palace. Well OK, his two rooms and a bathroom, medieval terrace house. Having grown up sharing a room with three brothers Tim found it palatial. He pouts a little defiant, and its older than Henderskelfe Hall.
He helps Joe off with his coat and hangs it up on rack. Joe stares straight ahead and whispers, 'Maybe I did it.'
'Did what?' Tim shoves him up the stairs. God this was not how he imagined his first date with the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. What if he never recovered? Was he going to be stuck with some sort of emotionally frozen man unable to function. Mind you maybe that was better than being used by a man who knew what he was doing and was just humping you for pleasure with little return. They make it up the stairs that lead into the kitchen-living-dining room. With the help of his sister-in-law it looked kind of trendy with it's glass table. Joe still hasn't responded. 'Mind Dempsey.' He steers Joe round the ginger cat.
Joe turns and searches Tim's face. 'I think maybe I did something to Toby. Everyone else seems to. Except Mark he never had.'
'I don't think you did. It would require a huge change of character. Not buying you as a murderer, Cream.' He shoves him on the sofa and goes to the kitchen bit.
'Not sure I buy my own innocence.' Joe shivers, 'What if the pig is someone who knows what I did?'
Abandoning the kettle Tim reaches into the top cupboard and pulls out a bottle and pours the amber liquid into two whisky glasses. He hands one to Joe, 'Think straight, Guv.'
Joe swirls the glass staring right into it, 'Not sure I can. Today it feels like a trigger has been pulled and my safe life blown to pieces.' His eyes fill with tears, 'I work so hard to keep myself together.'//
'Guess I'm not helping.' Tim grins, 'Although I am always available to keep your pecker up.'//
Joe puts down his glass and smiles, 'Oh god. You might just be what I need.' He flings himself back and picks up the three-legged cat next to him, 'Who's this?'//
'Tripod.' Tim smiles and strokes the cat now installed on Joe's lap. 'I wouldn't advise doing that with Dempsey and Makepeace, they can be a bit vicious when disturbed. This one is a lazy bugger doesn't care.'
Joe chews his lip, 'I have a really odd thing to confess to before we get into the deep stuff. Part of why I have never had a relationship before.'
'If you have pet crabs you don't want to part with should have told me last year before we started humping. If you have, I've got chlamydia. I'm gonna make you sterile.' Tim stands, 'You hungry?'
'Sure.' Joe stands up. 'I'll help. What we having?'
'Pizza. We got too much talking to do and this place is too small for Indian.' Tim picks up the phone, 'Meat feast do?'
'Sounds like an offer I can't refuse.'
Tim glances back with a smirk on his face lighting up his dark eyes, 'That was fun. Coast is clear. Same time next week?'
'Shirt!' The expression on Joe's face brimming with mischief. 'I so do not want to be disciplining you later.'
Aghast, Tim quickly shuts the door and looks down. The bright-red shirt is hanging free. He rolls his eyes. 'Holy crap! I already get enough questions about where I go Thursday lunchtime.' The shirt is rammed into his pants and a hand run through his thick dark curls Tim grins at Joe. 'Discipline could be fun, would give me another reason to drop me trousers and bend over the bucket.' Finally the garish red and yellow checked tie is straightened, 'Will that do?'
Shoelaces tied Joe stands up. Elegant long fingers wrap round Tim's waistband and Joe tugs him closer, 'Not quite.' Joe takes a deep breath, and concentrates on getting Tim neatly attired. Avoiding the desire to lock lips and remove the bloody awful tie Joe says, 'You look hot.' He makes the mistake of staring deeper into Tim's eyes. Why did this one man have this effect on him? Not since his teens had Joe wanted to constantly hop into bed with someone.
Tim opens the door and looks back, 'Corridor's deserted. I am just guess you still don't find me hot enough to come to my place for dinner?'
Joe closes his eyes tight and shakes his head slowly. 'No. I just can't.' He really wants to say oh bugger this, lets go AWOL and spend the afternoon rolling around in the sack. He opens his lids slightly, Tim has already left. Shaking himself Joe stands up and takes his suit jacket from the top of a mop. Distracted with thoughts about the latest exchange with Tim he fumbles to get his cold rimmed glasses out of the breast pocket. Glasses in place he puts his jacket on over his waistcoat and exits out into the corridor of the Victorian police station. Head up straight and concentrating on getting to the office he nods to the member of support staff that passed. She is new he has yet to say hello, someone said her name was Mary. Her smile indicates either no one has told her or it wouldn't be the first time someone had stirred trouble building up something that wasn't there. Joe takes a mental note to speak to her and let her know.
Having been part of the fabric of the police station for decades he had long ceased to notice the functional décor. Umber Bridge had grown since the sixties with huge new estates built on the outskirts. The long promised police station to cope with the increased police force had yet to be built, they were still all squashed in the one designed to cope with the middle sized market town. Joe's hand grasps the door handle and he steps into his office. The cleaning cupboard is bigger, the shoebox he had been given on his promotion had enough room for a desk and a couple of chairs. The phone on his desk is already ringing and he picks it up. Perched on the end of the desk with it under his chin he picks up the yearly reviews on his desk. 'Sir.' Joe sits up straighter, puts down the paperwork and tugs his waistcoat into place. 'Yes Sir I am available this afternoon …there has been an incident at the Hall … The Earl asked for me personally how nice.' Joe bites his lip, Henderskelfe Hall is the last place he wants to go. Place full of childhood memories. 'Golf, wonderful when?' He crosses his fingers behind his back, last thing he wants is to spend time networking on a golf course on his day off. 'Wednesday, hmm sorry no have promised my Aunt a day out in North Allerswick.' Fingers turn white as he hopes she will back him up in his deception. 'Thank you Sir.' Replacing the receiver he glances out of the piece of glazing that was meant to be a window, about arrow slit size it did very little to let light into the room. Especially today the dark clouds were hanging heavy in the sky. Looks cold. He grabs his maroon scarf and wraps it round his neck, the impeccably tailored grey overcoat rests over his arm and in his hand is his grey fedora hat. Back into the well trodden corridor and he heads upstairs to the main CID office. Through the double glazing doors he skirts round the bucket placed there to catch the leaks and he glances round. Bugger! Damn! All the desks except one are empty. Sat with his feet on the desk and a mug in his hand is Tim bloody Black. A big toe peeps out from the stripy socks in greeting. Tim looks up from the report in his hand and smiles. He raises his mug, 'Hey, Guv. Can I help?'
Joe decides there must be an alternative. He cannot work with him it had disaster on every level written all it. 'Is Mustard in?' he says through gritted teeth.
'In his office. He wafted past about ten minutes ago.' Tim's smirks.
Joe's jaw hardens, 'Respect.' Damn sure Tim isn't getting any concessions for being an arrangement. It was sex nothing else. How dare he try to take liberties like this. Tim placed a huge dilemma on his senior officers, those that worked with him found him fun, but he was disrespectful. Inspector Mustard constantly complained about DS Black's slovenly appearance, lack of respect and laziness. This was matched with almost as many letters from members of the public singing his praises and thanking DS Black for his work. Joe fights with a potted palm and knocks on the Inspector's red office door.
'Enter.' Sniff. Joe stiffens blasted man sounds like he has a cold. Just what he needs sickness going round the squad. Trust the inconsiderate man to come into work ill. He opens the door and stands in the office littered with plants and paperwork. Not for the first time Joe regretted the promotion that had seen him isolated at the other end of the station in a much smaller office. My goodness this man has made a mess of it. Despite his words to Tim, Joe's eyes are watering with the smell.
Mustard looks up from his paperwork, 'What do you want, Cream?'//
Joe glares. Was disrespect becoming endemic in the squad? 'DS Grey started her maternity leave yesterday. I need an officer to visit the Hall with.'
Mustard uses his fore finger and thumb to smooth down the moustache he is trying to grow. 'Take Black. Not like he is actually doing anything out there.'
Joe's eyes close for a minute giving him time to deal with the smell, irritation and general panic. 'Is there no one else?'
Mustard leans back in his chair placing his arms behind his head revealing yellowing patches around his armpits, 'You keep telling me to deal with the shit. Well now is your chance to show me how its done. You can whip him into shape.'
An image floats past that Joe works hard to dispel last thing he needs is a bloody hard on whilst dealing with the repulsive man. He just nods, 'Thanks for your help.' He marches back out of the office into the main room and puts his hat on his head. Feeling in his pockets he finds his marroon leather gloves and barks in Tim's direction, 'Black, with me. Don't dawdle.'
Tim sits up, places his cup and paperwork on the desk and looks up at Joe. 'Anything interesting.'
Joe shrugs, 'Could be there has been an incident up at the Hall. The Earl requested me.'
'Nice.' Tim is standing up and picking up a loud red checked coat with a black hood up from the back of his chair and ramming his feet into brown sheepskin lined boots.
Eyes rolling, Joe asks, 'Have you not got another coat?'
'Weather forecast says it's going to snow. Would rather looks stupid than be cold and stupid.' The bright outfit is completed with a purple backpack with a bear on it.
'What's with the bear?' Joe starts heading for the doors.
'Grumpy Care Bear. Reminded me of the Mustard.' Tim slings it on his back and follows Joe out.
Joe grins and leans towards him. 'Almost funny but highly disrespectful. Please remember we are on duty.'
'I take my duty very seriously, Guv.'
The unexpected gravitas in Tim's voice causes Joe to look at him. Everything about Tim's demeanour suggests he is serious. Guess maybe this job is more than just a lark to him. It seemed at odds with every report Mustard had sent across Joe's desk. Joe's eyes grow wide, he had reached the bottom of the stairs only to have a brightly coloured mass go shooting past him on the baister. 'Black, do you know how many health and safety rules you just broke.'
' 'Bout twenty-four, Guv. I was brought up to understand rules before I broke em. At thirty-five as long as the banister doesn't give way I am unlikely to experience serious injury.' Tim's back is defiant as he walks past Joe, nods to Hector the desk sergeant and opens the door to the carpark. By the time he is turned to face Joe the smile is back on his face.
Joe stops briefly by the reception desk, 'How's Parthenope, Hector?'
'Doin' much better than you Joseph. She'll be back on her feet soon. Thinks the world of those flowers you sent her.' Hector offers him a crisp and winks. 'Thanks for signing them from me. I owe you, pal.'
'Don't mention it, Hector. You and Parthenope have been fantastic to me. I knew you were too worried to think.' He nods towards Tim, 'Anyway better go have an appointment up at the hall.'
Hector's eyes roll, 'Sure you two working together is a good idea?'
Tim looks at him in surprise. Joe pats his shoulder, 'Nope, but looks like we are stuck with each other.' Joe walks past Tim and down the steps into the carpark.
Tim's voice comes from behind laced with surprise, 'I thought we are guard it with your life secret, Guv?'
'Not much escapes Hector, figured it was safer to keep him sweet instead.' A red Land Rover under the roof of what used to be the stables flashes as Joe takes the keys out of his pocket.
'Nice car, Guv.'
'My Aunts insisted I had something sensible.' He looks up at the sky, 'And today we might be glad of it.' Joe opens the car door and throws his hat on the back seat.//
'Shouldn't I be driving?' Tim opens the passenger side and hurls his jacket and the bag onto the backseat. //
'I've seen you drive and filled out the paperwork for that smash you had last year.' Joe feels a pang knowing damn well that was a low blow. He quietly sits down in his seat and fastens his belt.
Tim flings himself into the passenger seat, 'Well if you filled in the fucking paperwork you know what happened. You also know if I hadn't crashed a lot of people would've been hurt.' He glares straight ahead. His face resembling a child about to have a tantrum. Why was it that Joe suddenly wanted to kiss the sod better.
'Sorry I deserved that. It's my pride and joy, no one else gets to drive it, OK?' Joe places the key in the iginition.
'That I understand. Have you got any music?'
'Put your seatbelt on and try the glovebox.' Joe turns the key.
'Yes Mum.' Tim clips himself in and takes the leather CD case out and begins to go through it. 'What self-respecting gay man has this as his music collection?'
'What do you mean?'
'Nothing recognisable. All sorts of classical muck.' He continues to flick. 'Not even Kylie or even flipping Barbara Streisand.' He sighs, 'Remind me if I am going to be working more often with you to bring some with me.'
'Try the back.' Joe rolls his eyes, 'Some Abba and eighties power ballads my last boyfriend left behind.' He smirks, 'Anyway Jason was more my thing.'
Tim pulls a face and slips in Abba Gold. 'Guess it will have to do. Want to dance with me my queen?'
'Very funny, I'm driving.' Working with DS Grey had been so much easier she was as antisocial as Joe, they worked well together. A journey like this they would have been silent or just discussed the case. It was the first time he had managed to keep a partner for more than a few months and her maternity leave had been a huge blow to him. Bloody inconvenient. Not to mention he needed to find some sort of gift for the impending arrival. Better ask his Aunts, although not sure either of them had any idea about what a baby needed. He was their only child and when they picked him up from the hospital he was a boy of ten. He had to admit Dancing Queen was kind of catchy. Just not his usual thing. The surprise was the deep baritone voice tunefully singing along in the passenger seat. Joe had imagined Tim as a little tone deaf. 'You sing very well.'
'Gran made me join the choir. I like music even that classical stuff you have in you case, just not whilst I'm working. Will bring something else in tomorrow.' Tim dances in time to the music.
Joe giggled, 'You realise this is the first conversation we have ever had.' The only time he had ever spoken to Tim outside the cupboard was work related. Somehow the boorish oaf he had imagined was entertaining and intelligent. The car continues over the medieval bridge and out onto the Roman Road through the forest. Usually bright green and a delight to watch the dark heavy sky is sucking the colour out of its surroundings.
'Yeah it has taken me a year of dropping me drawers to get a brief conversation.' Tim smiles. 'Next turn on the left.'
'I know. Spent a lot of time here once upon a time.' Joe felt a long forgotten pain stabbing him. Damn! This was going to bring everything to the forefront of his life.
'Might've known you'd mix with the hoi-poloi of North Pennshire. What were you the Earl's rent boy?' Tim's face was full of mirth but he could not have hurt Joe anymore if he had known what he was doing.
Tears fill Joe's eyes. 'Something like that.' He grins at the sign post that reads 'NO TRESSPASSING'.
'Better behave ourselves or Wilf'll shoot.'
Joe's head snaps to the side and he stares at Tim in astonishment. 'What the? You know Wilf?'
'Yep he's me pa's best mate. Used to show me how to shoot and fish.'
'He hates me.' Joe remembers he is driving and focus's on the straight tree-lined driveway that seems to go on forever. Memories of returning from school laughing and looking forward to the holidays are replaced by freakish images of blood and bones. Damn my memory to hell Joe says to himself as he tries to remember what happened to him. Almost by instinct he parks on the sweeping gravel driveway in front of the large baroque stately home. One of the few still private except to visitors who phone in advance for a tour. The large dome rises up somehow at odds with the rest of the building. It has always looked a bit like a later addition, like so many of these English country houses it has taken shape over many centuries. Fashions change and some work better than others. Joe leans back and grabs his hat and coat from the back.
He feels a gentle hand on his back, 'Guv, you sure you are OK?'
Joe nods. 'Just old memories I'd rather not revisit. I apologise ahead of time if I seem bad tempered.' He gets out of the car and looks down to see a small lurcher wagging his tail. Probably a cross between a whippet and a Jack Russell. He whispers, 'Not now, Graeme. Please.' The imaginary friend from childhood had refused to go away. It had taken Joe until his late twenties to be convinced that Graeme was just a fixture in his life and not a sign of some deep entrenched mental illness. However he really didn't want to tell Tim that at coming up for forty his best friend was an imaginary hound. Not to mention the Earl would know who Graeme was. It was the kind o situation Graeme would appear at when Joe felt out of control with life. Looks like the blasted animal had no intention of leaving and follows at Joe's heel up the sweeping stone staircase to the front door.
He catches hold of Tim's arm as his companion is about to perform a policeman's knock on the glass door. Joe says, 'Manners.' He reaches past Tim very aware of the body heat coming from him and pushes the old fashioned doorbell.
Tim's lips betray his excitement at being so close to Joe, 'Aw come on, Guv I didn't become a copper so I could knock politely.'
Joe closes his eyes to prevent him responding to Tim's comment or the excited yip down by his ankles. Graeme seems to approve of Tim and is sniffing round the heavy duty boots. The door flies open and a petite blonde lady is stood in front of them. She is wearing a sea-green maid uniform. 'Can I help you, gentlemen?' she says.
Taking his warrant card out of his breast pocket Joe shows it to her, and uses it to indicate Tim, 'DCI Cream and this is DS Black. The Earl reported an incident.'
She pays attention to the warrant card and nods, 'Glad you are here it has been an awful morning.'
'What has happened?' Joe forgets himself and shows concern. As he speaks a small child comes barrelling out of the house and down the stairs sobbing. //
The maid shouts, 'Trenton Henderskelfe you get right back in here.'//
Tim holds up his hand, 'Don't worry Ma'am I'll take care of the lad, you take DCI Cream to see his Lordship.' He turns and heads down the stone staircase after the boy and starts running after him. //
Leaving Joe alone. Joe hands his coat and hat to Lily, 'Where is Lord White-Bay?'//
'In his study with Lady White-Bay, Sir.' She smiles, 'Follow me.'//
'I know the way if you have other things to do.' He starts to follow her through the panelled door into the turquoise drawing-room. It was still decorated with the same turquoise damask wallpaper and creepy portraits. Joe scans the room looking for the gloomy man he is descended from, there he is small portrait above the door in the far right corner. Sat next to his miserable looking wife in her pearl decorated rough and velvet gown, they dripped medieval luxury. Their daughter Anne had married Thomas Cream. Lily leads him through the same door and through into a corridor. She opens a familiar plain oak door and Joe walks past her into the room.//
A thick set man with jowls comes towards him with a big smile on his face, 'Joseph, how lovely to see you after so long.' Joe endures the bear hug.
'Mark nice to see you. Why did you call?' He looks round, 'Where is Emma?'
'Trenton had a row with her and ran off.' Mark shifts uneasily, 'We didn't feel it was safe after what had happened today so she went after him.'
'What has happened? No one has said anything.' Joe looks round like he expects to find a body.
'Follow me.' Mark opens the lattice doors out onto the immaculate lawns. Usually the view panned out to the sea below the cliffs the house is built on, but the visibility is low with the bad weather.
He follows Mark as he heads towards the lake. Joe is getting slower with every footstep. The last summer he had spent here, Joe had spent most of it on the lake with Mark's son Toby. It had been the first year that they had been allowed there without parental supervision, and they had felt free and grown up. He glances back at the house, sat on the balcony outside the study is Tim and Trenton. They are playing and laughing. Tears cause Joe's visibility to decrease even further and he stumbles tripping over a stone.
He feels the lick as Graeme checks he is alright then Mark hauls him to his feet, 'You OK, son?'
Joe cringes wanting to scream out, No I am not bloody Ok. You brought me here you bastard and expect me to cope. In response to the question Joe just nods, 'I'm fine. This is just harder than I expected.'
'We've missed you here. I know it must be difficult since Toby …' As Mark speaks they are walking round the lake making a beeline for the boat house.
'It's not so much difficult as I can't remember. I get all these flashes, everything mingles together.' The instinctive and familiar feeling runs down his arms as he balls his fists, and he tries to force the images away. He resists the urge to pick up Graeme. Some days the dog let himself be cuddled like a child's special toy.
'The reason for you being called is in here. It isn't pretty.' Mark's usual relaxed demeanour has tensed, 'I've been trying to keep this away from Emma and Little T. Wilf and I found it earlier. Why I wanted you, I knew you would help protect my family do this in the least painful way possible.' He opens the door. 'Be prepared, it is something you have seen before.'
Joe turns eyes full of heightened panic towards him, 'What is it?' As his head turns he catches sight of it. Swinging back and forth on the rope in the centre. The bile is travelling up into Joe's throat. Acid stinging his throat and vomit creating a lump. He swallows hard, closes his eyes and begins to breathe. His Aunt Lavender's meditation techniques always helped. This time the panic doesn't recede. The smell is worse. The skinned carcass. His gut knows he has seen this before. His memory fails him, something itching right at the back of his skull refuses to fire into a full blown remembrance. He points, 'I … is th … that a pig?'
Mark nods, 'You really don't remember?'
Joe shakes his head, biting his lip hard. 'No.'
'You and Toby found a similar sight your last summer here. It was missing the clothing.' Mark turns his head, 'Not sure if it means anything?'
Steeling his will Joe takes a step forward, 'Oh god you recognise it?'
'Of course it is Brenton Hall Prep's uniform. At least it used to be. How do we handle this, Joe?' This time Mark is beginning to show signs of panic. 'Do I make it an official investigation or not? I am not sure I can handle police crawling all over the estate again.'
Gritting his teeth, Joe says, 'Let's get out of here. I need to clear my head.' He lurches to the door barely making it before throwing up over the veranda side into the lake. 'Mark, I am so sorry. I should be more professional.'
Mark is rubbing Joe's back, 'Kid, this is as much personal, as professional. I have to say I am scared for Trenton. I … I can't lose another child Joe. I've already lost two to this mess.'
'You still have Caro?' Joe turns.
Mark's head shakes. 'She has never been the same.' His eyes fill with tears. 'It is almost worse than the not knowing what happened to Toby. Since he went she has barely come out of her room or spoken.'
Joe's eyes can no longer hold back the tears they are misting up his glasses. He can't look at Mark, 'It is all my fault.'
'Oh son, No! Never. You were nine years old.' His hand continues to rub Joe's back. 'We just don't know what happened. In some ways I wish he was dead which sounds terrible.'
'Maybe if I could remember. ' Joe looks at the boat house. 'I think we should make this official.' He takes his glasses off to clean them. 'It maybe connected to what happened to Toby. We would also both be in a worse state if something happened to your youngest son.'
'I'm placing myself in your hands.' Mark turns and starts to head back to the house as Joe digs out his phone.
Slow and thoughtful he calls the station and requests a scene of crime officer. Maybe some fibre, something would tell them why he had to face this today. Mark lifts up young Trenton twirls him round and takes him back inside the house leaving Tim with Emma. The total bastard he is making eyes at her. Staring right at her ample breasts primly displayed in a white blouse. How dare he. Right in front of Joe. From the depths all the days emotion begins rising as jealousy and anger aimed at the scene in front of him. The shit kisses Emma's hand. Joe sweeps past them into the house, grabs his hat and coat from Lily and marches through the house and out the front door.
How dare he! Right in front of him making great puppy brown eyes at Lady White-Bay. The total shit could he have flaunted himself anymore. Why didn't he just get his trousers off and ask Mark to join in the orgy. He dashes down the stone staircase anything to get away. Why the hell did he come here this morning, he should have sent someone else. This place has too many emotions. The tear escaping is hot against his cheek as a tight grip pulls him round. Joe is staring right into those deep puppy dog eyes and there is nothing seductive about them right now. Tim's face is angry, his jacket unfastened. He spits in Joe's face as he says, 'What the fuck are you playing at, Joe?'
'We're on duty.' Joe uses his gloved hand to wipe his face, 'Respect.'
'That had bugger all to do with duty or respect and you damn well know it. What is your fucking problem?;' Tim's nose is right up against Joe and the grip round Joe's arm constricts further.
Joe is so angry he registers the threat but doesn't feel the pain. He feels his fist ball. He will not breathe he wants to be furious. 'You in there, making those doe eyes at Lady White-Bay's tits right in front of me. How could you?'
Tim releases him and glares, 'What the crap has that got to do with you?'
Joe looks down at his feet. 'We have an arrangement.' He bites the inside of his cheek. The anger is abating a little. //
'Even if I want to have sex in the middle of the drawing-room with Lady White-Bay what the hell is it to you?' Tim's fist is balled and in his hand. //
Joe holds his hand up, 'Tim, please I am sorry.' //
'Not good enough, Cream. As you so eloquently put it I am an arrangement.' Tim's nostrils flare, 'I asked you for more. You said it would be an unnecessary …' Tim uses his fingers as quotes, 'Inconvenience, So again what the shite has it to do with you who else I fuck? His nails are biting into his ungloved hand. Tim doesn't seem to be noticing the cold. 'All I will ever be to you is pull your pants down, bend over the bucket, Tim.'
The air stood still. No thought involved in either motion as Joe slaps Tim's face so hard he recoils, in slow motion Tim comes back and lands a fist in Joe's face.
Joe looks at Tim, his eyes register shock and pain. Turning he gets into the car. Before Tim can open the passenger door Joe takes off. Tim watches as he drives away and starts to walk down the long driveway to the road.
Crap! The slap really stings. The total shit nothing in that exchange was fair. How dare Joe presume anything about Tim's love life. It's not as if he hadn't asked the shit out on a date, he'd wanted to make it more. Oh no Joseph Cream had said. The cleaning cupboard was all he needed for everyone. Bastard why did Tim have to fall for someone who didn't give a damn. Confused he feels his cheek, if Joe didn't give a flying fuck what was that all about. Tim digs in his pocket and dials the familiar number. He takes a deep breath and places his phone to his ear as it rings, 'Come on, answer please. I need you.' He says to thin air, 'Dad … ' He bangs his phone against his hand tears in his eyes, answerphone. What the hell. Turning he heads through the familiar woods to the gamekeepers cottage. He ducks under the branches walking off the path anything to get there sooner. Coming from a noisy household whilst he often appreciated the peace of living alone with his cats times like this he needed someone, anyone. He approaches the small Hansel and Gretel type cottage in the woods. Small with smoke wistfully blowing from the chimney up towards the dark oppressive clouds. Sooner it bloody snowed the better. Rapping on the door he blows on his hands regretting leaving his gloves behind at the Hall.
From behind him, 'Lad, you here about the nasty pig business at the hall?' Tim's brow furrows, what pig business. He turns to face Wilf aware with the fight he has no idea why the police had been called to see the Earl. The tall, grey bearded man, gently touches Tims face. 'What the hell happened to you?'
'Joe and me.' Tim sniffs. 'Please, Wilf, can I come in?'
Wilf nods and unlocks the door, 'Come on in. If nothing else you can get warm.' The door opens to a comfortable kitchen, a squishy worn sofa and sixties orange units seem at odds with the Victorian home, but Wilf had refused the Earl's offer to update. 'Take a seat by the fire lad. Coffee or do you want summat stronger?'
'Coffee. I'm on duty. Did you find the pig?'
'Yep, nasty business. No wonder young Cream was out of kilter.' Wilf stows his gun in the locked cabinet and crosses to the kettle.
'Wilf?' Tim looks at him surprised.
'Did he not tell you, lad?' Kettle is boiling away nicely and Wilf rummages through his under-counter freezer.
'He didn't tell me anything. Went off on one because I was …' Tim uses finger quotes again, 'Flirting with Lady White-Bay.' He takes the frozen peas off an amused Wilf. 'Is the cheek that bad?'
'Looks like your gonna bruise.' He laughs slightly as he goes back to make the coffee, 'Did ya tell him you were gay?'
'I been having sex with him for over a year. Figured he may have guessed the Earl was more my type even with the spare tyre.' Tim winces as he puts the peas against his cheek. This is confusing him more what about the bloody pig. 'What happened with the pig?' With his left hand he fishes out his notebook and pen.
Wilf puts the coffee on the table in front of him and takes the pen off Tim, 'Wait til you hear the full story then write it up.'
Tim nods and trades the peas for the coffee. 'Alright.' He settles back and looks at the man his father had counted as a best friend and lover for many years. In many ways Wilf had occupied a similar space in life to Tim. Although the gamekeeper's cottage was luxury in comparison to the broom cupboard. The past year with Joe had brought him closer to the man his Dad had introduced him to when he came out. Right now he is staring into the wood fire his face unreadable. His reluctance to talk is a surprise usually they were chatting away by now. Deciding against disturbing him Tim sinks further into the sofa and stairs ahead in comfortable silence.
'It was thirty years ago.' Still staring into the fire Wilf takes a sip from his mug.
Tim swirls the dregs in his mug. 'What was?'
'The last time a skinned pig was found swinging from rafters of the boathouse.' Wilf shivers in spite of the heat from the fire. 'It twas the summer before the lad went missing.'
'The Earl's son. I heard about it Dad was in charge of the case.'
'It were how we met.' Wilf stands up and takes the peas back to the freezer. He doesn't like waste. 'The lads found the first one.'
'Which lads?' Tim turns away trying not to show his frustration this was like pulling teeth.
'Lord Maltby and Lord Joseph Cream. Well that's his name now.' Wilf starts making sandwiches. Almost on autopilot, 'Only nine they were. Went to get the row boat out to take on the lake. The thing was stinking, think it had been killed somewhere else. No blood. It was skinned right down to the skeleton.' He picks up a jar, 'Pickle?'
'Please. When did Joe become a Lord and what did the police say?' Tim leans against the worktop his head on the side. This was all bloody cryptic. The thought of his dad's reaction if he found out he had been rude to Wilf was all that was keeping him polite right now.
'Lad, bear with me.' He smears some Branston on the beef sandwiches. 'Joe is the son of the Duke of Dunloss.' He cuts the sandwiches in half – triangles. 'We didn't call the police, the Duke, and the Earl decided not to and asked me to dispose of it quietly. I think they thought the boys had done it.' He puts the sandwiches on old fashioned brown side plates. The ones with orange flowers and pushes it over to Tim.
Tim is skeptical and his face twists in response to the thoughts going through his mind, 'The idea of Joe skinning a pig sits a bit uneasy with me.' He pauses with the sandwich halfway to his mouth. 'Or did he have a higher tolerance for muck when he was a kid?'
Wilf thought, 'Not sure to be honest he was only here over the summer usually. My busiest times. Certainly Toby was not above killing and skinning a rabbit.' He takes a bite and pauses clearly deep in thought, 'Today is the anniversary of when they think Toby went missing.'
'They think?' Tim crosses to the kettle to make another coffee.
'He ran away from school. Joe covered for him, it was the week after the Countess had died and Toby wanted to get home. At least that is what the lad said.'
Tim picks up the kettle deep in thought. 'You doubt his account?'
'I know the Earl doesn't. He has always adored him. However you Joe never came back to visit. Seems like a guilty conscience to me.' Wilf picks up a cucumber that has fallen out of his sandwich. 'Whole thing is a nasty business. That pig today was a message to someone – it was wearing a Brenton Hall Prep uniform. Where Joe and Toby went.'
The switch clicks with that satisfying noise. 'You think he knew more than he let on?'
'Lad claimed amnesia. Two weeks later he was expelled from the school because of some kind of incident.' Wilf shrugs. 'His Aunts took him in. Not even his own father wanted owt to do with him.'
Tim puts the cups down and takes his phone out his pocket. 'Got a message. Joe wants to talk.' He sighs. 'I ought to meet him. Can I borrow your car?'
'I'll take you into Umber Bridge. Just be careful, lad. This is a whole nasty weird business and that man of yours is right at the centre of it.' He is waggling a finger at him.
'Call it a copper's gut, Wilf. I think Joe Cream is a goodun. I can't really see that changing.' Tim sends the text to Joe asking to meet at a bench in the park.
Wilf has his Barbour jacket on and is opening the door, 'Come on then. Hope you are right, lad.' He waits for Tim to come out and locks up. 'Make sure you run all this by your pa.'
***
Frost is making it hard to see. The park is going dark early with the weather. Threadbare trees give the dull pond an eerie outline. 'Sorry.' The word comes quietly from behind Tim's back. He wonders whether to open his eyes. After a year of being used Tim wants to make him suffer. Hurt! Finally he has the upper hand. This is hard. Never been good at holding a grudge. The sorry was so plaintive, pathetic. Joe sounds like he needs holding tight.
The disembodied voice speaks again, 'I'd like to come for dinner. If you ever want to see me again.' This time the voice is cracking. Tim is using everything in him not to bend to this. It's hard even with his Gran in his head telling him not to let any man use him. 'Please.'
Unable to bear Joe's pain any longer Tim opens his eyes and stands up. He turns. Time stands still as Tim stares into the red, puffy eyes. The strong, together man is gone. In front of him is a broken man. In slow motion he steps round the bench, Joe seems frozen to the spot. Searching Tim's face. Presumably looking for clues as to his intentions. Tim places his arms round Joe and leans in for the kiss. The warmth of Joe's breath melting his breath. The world carries on around them as their lips make contact. Snow begins to fall, but neither men notice the cold flakes. Tim takes a deep breath and steps back. Smile playing round the corners of his mouth he gently touches Joe's eye, 'Suits you. Gives you a rugged look?'
Joe looks away. Tim is trying to read his reactions he never could tell what was going through the man's mind. Everything about him is small and childlike. Tim rubs his back. 'Hon, how about we go back to my place and clean up?'
Joe nods and allows Tim to lead him across the park. The Victorian park is just behind the market place. 'I … I have a lot to tell you and …'
'Have a shower first.' They turn off down a dark alley way. Tim resists the urge to quip about coming up his alley. Everything about Joe is misery. The door at the end leads to Tim's palace. Well OK, his two rooms and a bathroom, medieval terrace house. Having grown up sharing a room with three brothers Tim found it palatial. He pouts a little defiant, and its older than Henderskelfe Hall.
He helps Joe off with his coat and hangs it up on rack. Joe stares straight ahead and whispers, 'Maybe I did it.'
'Did what?' Tim shoves him up the stairs. God this was not how he imagined his first date with the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. What if he never recovered? Was he going to be stuck with some sort of emotionally frozen man unable to function. Mind you maybe that was better than being used by a man who knew what he was doing and was just humping you for pleasure with little return. They make it up the stairs that lead into the kitchen-living-dining room. With the help of his sister-in-law it looked kind of trendy with it's glass table. Joe still hasn't responded. 'Mind Dempsey.' He steers Joe round the ginger cat.
Joe turns and searches Tim's face. 'I think maybe I did something to Toby. Everyone else seems to. Except Mark he never had.'
'I don't think you did. It would require a huge change of character. Not buying you as a murderer, Cream.' He shoves him on the sofa and goes to the kitchen bit.
'Not sure I buy my own innocence.' Joe shivers, 'What if the pig is someone who knows what I did?'
Abandoning the kettle Tim reaches into the top cupboard and pulls out a bottle and pours the amber liquid into two whisky glasses. He hands one to Joe, 'Think straight, Guv.'
Joe swirls the glass staring right into it, 'Not sure I can. Today it feels like a trigger has been pulled and my safe life blown to pieces.' His eyes fill with tears, 'I work so hard to keep myself together.'//
'Guess I'm not helping.' Tim grins, 'Although I am always available to keep your pecker up.'//
Joe puts down his glass and smiles, 'Oh god. You might just be what I need.' He flings himself back and picks up the three-legged cat next to him, 'Who's this?'//
'Tripod.' Tim smiles and strokes the cat now installed on Joe's lap. 'I wouldn't advise doing that with Dempsey and Makepeace, they can be a bit vicious when disturbed. This one is a lazy bugger doesn't care.'
Joe chews his lip, 'I have a really odd thing to confess to before we get into the deep stuff. Part of why I have never had a relationship before.'
'If you have pet crabs you don't want to part with should have told me last year before we started humping. If you have, I've got chlamydia. I'm gonna make you sterile.' Tim stands, 'You hungry?'
'Sure.' Joe stands up. 'I'll help. What we having?'
'Pizza. We got too much talking to do and this place is too small for Indian.' Tim picks up the phone, 'Meat feast do?'
'Sounds like an offer I can't refuse.'