The Summer of Us Page 4

  He nods. “I hear you. I run and I like the gym but I mostly like anything that keeps me outside so I try to go surfing in Cornwall most weekends.”

  “Whereabouts?” I ask idly. I’d been to Cornwall a couple of times as a student and enjoyed the wild beauty.

  “Polzeath,” he smiles. “I have a little house there.”

  I’m startled. “Being a PA must pay well,” I say tactlessly because property there is expensive. He looks up sharply, but rather than looking angry at my tactlessness which sounds judgy to me he grins. The smile elongates his eyes and picks out well used lines at the side of his eyes which look like he’s spent his life smiling. I like that and I like his face with its high, sharp cheekbones, firm jaw line covered in blonde brown stubble and full mouth. His face is full of life and energy and a smile that constantly hovers on his lips. He has a scruffy charm about him that I think I envy.

  “I bought the house years ago and it was in really bad condition then. I’ve spent a long time renovating it, and I suppose if I wanted to sell it I’d make a lot of money but I love it too much to let it go.” He looks at me as if considering something, and then says slowly, “I’m not just Bram’s PA.”

  I jerk, afraid that he has taken umbrage after all. “There’s nothing wrong with it,” I say hurriedly but he shakes his head.

  “No there isn’t and I do a PA job for Bram because he’s my best friend and I love him, but unfortunately so does every person that has ever worked for him, some a bit too robustly.”

  “Not you?” I ask almost involuntarily and he shoots me a very sharp look before taking a sip of coffee. “No, Bram and I are brothers in all but name. We’ve gone through a lot of shit together and we’re as close as two people can be, but I’ve never fucked him if that’s what you’re asking.”

  I swallow hard at the thought of that long hard body fucking anyone but cover it with a sip of coffee. “I’m sorry that was nosy.” He shrugs lazily and I hasten on. “So what do you do if you’re not just Bram’s PA?”

  “I own The Dalton Agency.”

  I put my cup down sharply, rattling it on the saucer. “You own that?”

  He laughs. “Yeah, don’t I look like your image of a boss?”

  “Not really,” I say honestly. “You look more like a surfer.”

  He throws his head back laughing hard and making me smile widely at the sound. “Well I suppose I am that, but it is my company so I can look how the hell I want.” He stretches and pulls his t-shirt on.

  “That’s one of the biggest suppliers of quality discreet staff isn’t it? I think that my secretary Carol came from there and you’ve supplied staff to my parents.”

  He smiles. “I’ve supplied staff to a lot of people that you probably know and Carol did come from me. You’re very lucky to have her.”

  I smile. “I know and she lets me know it as well.” I lean back. “Well, well you’re a man of hidden talents.”

  He stretches languidly and reaches out to the plate of croissants, choosing one and tearing a piece off before popping it into his mouth with a throaty murmur making me shift slightly. “I am and one of those hidden talents according to Charlie is that of master builder which must have been really well hidden because even I didn’t fucking know about it.”

  I laugh out loud. “Masturbator more likely,” I say and his eyes seem to darken.

  “Aren’t we all?” he says slowly, staring at me hard before sliding his Oakley sunglasses down over his eyes.

  I swallow and change the subject. “So do you still want to go and have a look at the house?”

  He laughs. “Might as well mate. That’s going to be my remand sentence for the next three months.”

  “Okay finish up your breakfast and I’ll take you.”

  He looks up startled. “Don’t be silly. I can do that. I know that you’re busy.”

  I shrug and then shoot him a smile. “Not that busy and anyway I’m nosy. I fancy a peek at this house that made them fall in love with it at first sight.”

  He stares at me, his eyes hidden by the dark lenses. “Well okay then but be warned, Charlie has very odd tastes apart from Mabe. It could be anything.”

  An hour later we pull up outside what could best be classed as a ruin. We both get out of my car and stand staring open mouthed at something that seems to be just a few walls and half a roof. Matt slowly lowers his glasses. “Oh my God,” he says faintly. “Did they knock it down already?”

  I look at him and suddenly give an enormous snort and before I can say anything we both break into hysterical laughter, falling against the car and clutching our sides. Finally the laughter dies and Matt straightens and walks towards the house and I fall in next to him.

  It’s very quiet apart from the sound of the cicadas and I smell an herby fragrance that rises in the air as our shoes crush small plants into an old stone path. It feels like we might be the only two people in existence and the house gives off a melancholy majesty which renders me silent for a minute.

  We beat our way past some oversized lavender bushes into the back garden and stand staring at the fantastic view of the Mediterranean. It’s a clear day and from here you can see the islands of Lerins in the distance. Matt looks sideways at me. “Well he was right about the view,” he offers, giving me a lopsided smile.

  I turn back and look at the house objectively. “I think he was right about the house too. Underneath all that ivy it looks like an Aix farmhouse.” He looks at me in query. “A style of house. This one looks quite old. When done up they’re usually very warm and welcoming.”

  “Like Mabe and Charlie,” he murmurs and I nod.

  “They could have a nice place here.”

  He nods determinedly. “They will.”

  Something tells me that when he puts his mind to it he’s an irresistible force for all that laidback charm. “So what’s the plan?”

  He sits down on the side of an old swimming pool empty now apart from a couple of inches of dirty water and a ton of ivy and weeds. Swinging his legs he contemplates the house. “I’ve called a meeting here for the main contractor and his project manager. They’re in charge of the major aspects of the build.”

  “English or French?”

  “Both. They’ve got projects in England and Europe. They come highly recommended.”

  “And they know the time constraints?”

  He nods. “They do. Charlie’s offering a heavy bonus for completion and I’m here to oversee everything and push what needs pushing.”

  I lower myself next to him and for a minute we sit staring at the house in an easy silence. I shift and my arm brushes his and I stiffen as what feels like an electric shock runs down my arm. His head shoots round and he stares at me, his expression hidden by his shades with only the twist to his lips to indicate that he felt it too.

  We stare at each other for a second that stretches too long and I notice his chest rise and fall sharply, but then a loud cry from a seagull wheeling above seems to jerk him out of the awkwardness and he rises up from his sitting position, lowering his hand down to help me up.

  For a second I stare at him and his outstretched hand seems like a challenge so immediately I reach out letting him pull me to my feet. However, as I stand I catch my foot on some ivy and my foot slips out from under me and I waver on the edge of the pool feeling myself begin to fall back. I close my eyes involuntarily but before I can shout out he jerks me back, his lean form obviously concealing a great strength, and for a second I rest against him getting my breath back and feeling the warmth of him.

  “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, the vibrations of his voice seeming to flow through my body and I nod unable to speak or move away from where I rest against him his arms around me almost as if embracing me. We stay like that for a few seconds before he grabs my shoulders and eases me back. “Are you alright?” he asks lifting his glasses to reveal stormy brown eyes. “That was a fucking near miss John. You might have smashed your skull in on the bottom.”

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nbsp; I feel my face flush and I stand back as he lets his arms fall away seemingly reluctantly. For a second I feel cold without his warmth encircling me but then I curse myself for a fool. He must think me a complete twat. One minute an arrogant overbearing tosser according to him, and the next second falling over him like a delicate flower.

  I lift my eyes reluctantly, already feeling that cool armour settling around me. “I’m fine,” I say dismissively. “Nothing to get your knickers in a twist over.”

  His face twists at either my dismissive tone or words, and instantly his own cool expression slides over his face and I see a trace of the man that I’d met the first time. “Okay,” he drawls, the word seeming to have ten more syllables than it normally does, and I flinch slightly already regretting that easy feel of before. His eyes sharpen for a second and his eyes seem to flame as if they’re lasers seeing right through my coldness which has put so many people at arm’s length throughout my life, to the real me.

  He stares at me for a long minute and then I almost sag in relief as the coldness in his face slides away replaced by the friendly amiable smile that crinkles his eyes. I think he notices the relief too to my embarrassment but I’m too relieved to have him looking at me like this again to really feel stupid.

  “Well if you’re not swan diving into an empty pool I guess the entertainment part of the afternoon is over,” he drawls. “Let’s get back to summing up just how much more work is actually involved than Charlie quite covered with his offer of a three month luxury holiday away from my troubles.”

  Matt

  That evening I stand against my balcony looking down at the lights of Cannes that twinkle in the distance. The sky is a soft velvety blue, and a refreshing breeze blows in from the sea tousling my hair and drying the drops of water on my body left from my shower.

  I push my hair back with a sigh and then brace my hands on the balcony looking down at the lone figure standing in the garden against the backdrop of sea and lights. He stands dressed only in a pair of blue shorts looking out in a contemplative silence, and I stare at him enjoying the opportunity to look my fill without making him uncomfortable.

  He’s such a gorgeous man. I’d seen that at first glance but every minute that I spend with him makes me more uncomfortable at the way that I misjudged him. I’d seen only the confident, arrogant way that he held his body, and heard only the arrogance in his clear, upper class accent. I hadn’t seen the vulnerability that lies underneath, or maybe it wasn’t there for me to see then. Maybe it’s only now when he’s at home that it shines through.

  I’d thought him a careless man whose way through life had been easy, greased by his looks, money and family name. I don’t think that anymore and it’s an opinion firmed by this afternoon. More and more I’ve seen a loneliness in him that’s soul deep. He holds himself separately I think, not because he thinks himself better than anyone else, but because he sees no value in his own company.

  My interest sharpens because I’ve always been attracted to the lonely ones, the ones that need care. Something in them calls out to my nature and it’s always made me happy to look after people. The problem with that according to Bram is what I see as a misunderstood soul, the rest of the world sees as an unmitigated twat.

  I stare down at John again. I don’t think that about him. I want to know him. I want to search out his secrets and find out what made him like this. I want to watch him bloom, to see those crinkles at the edge of those vibrant blue eyes grow deeper as the years go by, showing that he finally knows how to laugh at life rather than be buttoned down and ready for what it throws at him.

  I sigh because unfortunately this impulse comes hand in hand with others, because while I want to teach him to let go and smile I also want to slide my cock into his warm body until he screams. I want to fuck into him until he comes like he’s never come before.

  I shake my head because this can’t go anywhere. I’ve slept with supposedly straight men before and the sex was fantastic because introducing a man to what his body can really feel like when a man takes hold of it is a thrill in itself. However, that thrill never lasted after the next day when they crept back into the closet, shutting the door behind them and leaving me feeling used and slightly ashamed.

  John’s straight and I have to get this thought set firmly in my head because no matter how curious he might be about me, and he is I can feel it, he is still apparently in love with his ex-wife according to the others. I don’t want to be a curiosity anymore. I want to matter. I want to be loved and love in return.

  I take one last look and then move silently back into my bedroom leaving that lonely figure still staring out at the sea lost in thought.

  Chapter 3

  Song: ‘Know Yourself’ by Citizens!

  John

  Two weeks later I sit on the patio in the early evening sun sipping Pastis and keeping an ear out for the return of my housemate. I haven’t seen much of him since the afternoon that we’d gone to look at Charlie’s house.

  He leaves early in the morning and comes back late, usually filthy dirty and knackered. We have a drink and he eats and then retires to his room where he informed me yesterday he literally passes out from exhaustion until the next morning.

  The house has seemed incongruously empty without him but part of me has been relieved not to see him. In some way I’ve felt almost embarrassed since that afternoon. It feels like I let him see under my armour, and now I’m curling away under my shell from that penetrating gaze of his that sees things that others don’t. I take a hefty slug of my drink wincing because even thinking this makes me feel like a completely feeble twat.

  I have however managed to fit in a lot of work so his absence has had a positive effect. I’ve traipsed off to my study as soon as he leaves in the mornings and I’ve stayed there resolutely at my desk, which I’d deliberately positioned years ago to face away from the view. If I was looking out at the sea I could quite easily spend hours daydreaming, and as my father has always pointed out daydreaming doesn’t sign cheques.

  He’d been particularly concerned when I was young because I was a huge daydreamer, drifting along happily in a daze. I’d always completed my homework but it was at a pace known only to myself and a few snails. That had stopped when he’d sent me to boarding school at the age of seven in the hope that it would snap me out of my bad habits. Needless to say it did and now I’m renowned at work for the hours that I log in at my desk.

  My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the gate and footsteps sounding out on the flagstones. Against my will I feel my heartrate accelerate and I rub my chest absently. I really must be starved of friendship if just having someone’s company leaves me like this. My thoughts are forgotten though when he rounds the corner of the villa and I burst out laughing.

  “What the fuck have you been doing?”

  He smirks, his teeth shining whitely in his tanned face which is now covered by a thick layer of dirt. He’s half naked in just a pair of cargo shorts and battered old combat boots with his t-shirt hanging around his neck, and the same dirt coats his arms and legs and lean torso, clinging to the sweat covering him. “Had a bit of a messy day,” he laughs, coming to one of the patio chairs where he hovers, looking helplessly at the scarlet cushions.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake sit down. The cushion will wash.”

  He shrugs and settles down gingerly and then relaxes back against the chair with a throaty murmur of pleasure which hits me in my belly. Pushing it aside I pour a glass of Pastis for him and push the jug of water towards him. This has become a bit of a ritual lately in that we meet like this every evening sitting over the Pastis and chatting about our day. I’m almost embarrassed to recognise how much I look forward to it.

  I wait until he’s taken his first sip and lit a cigarette before speaking. “So?”

  He inhales sharply on the cigarette and sends a swirl of smoke into the air. “We were looking for the water supply and it’s taken all day. Apparently the French authoriti
es don’t see a legal need to register water systems and septic tanks on private property, which is why the plumber and I have spent all day traipsing all over the property looking for water. I felt very Russell Crowe from ‘The Water Diviner’ after a bit. I just needed some angle rods.”

  I laugh out loud. “Didn’t Charlie give you the title of Overseer? Doesn’t that mean that you sort of oversee, maybe by floating around with a clipboard and looking official?”

  He grins. “Yes Charlie did give me that title but unfortunately I think that he and Mabe might want to actually bathe when they stay here, and you can’t find water with a clipboard. I know that because I’ve tried every other bloody way known to man today.”

  I laugh and a companionable silence falls for a few minutes as we stare out at the late evening sun hitting the sea and making everything look golden. Finally I stir. “Fancy doing something different tonight?”

  He looks sideways at me, his cigarette hanging loosely from his full lips. “Different from falling into bed and being asleep before most old aged pensioners? You fucking bet I do. What have you got in mind?”

  “There’s a firework display tonight in Cannes for the opening of a new casino.” He smiles and I hasten on. “I know it sounds a bit childish but it’s a big deal round here. The fireworks are usually spectacular when they do this and it’s a nice night, so I thought we could drive out and take some food to a little beach near here because it’ll be difficult to get anywhere near Cannes tonight.” He smiles at me and I try to glare. “What?”

  “I just never pictured you for the firework and picnic type of person. I thought that you’d be more gentleman’s clubs and casinos.”

  “Like James Bond?” I raise one eyebrow and he laughs.

  “Less Roger Moore and more Sean Connery.”

  I try a Scottish accent. “I’m flattered.”

  He stares at me for a second. “You should be,” he says in a low voice and then his face clears. “Please don’t ever do a Scottish accent again. You sound like you come from Birmingham.”