Commitment Issues by Ali Ryecart

Chapter Forty-Two

Elliot

I look down at the scribbled note, with the address Cosmo handed me earlier. It feels like a lifetime since I was in his kitchen, where he’d told me about Gavin’s poison. Gavin. Bile coats the back of my throat. He’s not important. This, here, now, is what is. But I’ll deal with Gavin, in my own way and in my own time.

It doesn’t take me long to find the house. Long and low, big and rambling, its walls painted a bright and cheery pink like so many in these parts, it nonetheless looks like it’s settled in the landscape. It’s a beautiful house, there are even flowers threading through a trellis around the doorway and the front garden’s full of potted shrubs where bees buzz.

“I’m scared, Jas,” I say, as I stand by the garden gate. “What if he won’t see me?” I look down at Jasper, tethered to me by his leash.

I had to bring him, I couldn’t leave him all day on his own. I’d phoned my cleaner Rosa, asking her to check on him, but she was on her way out to a family function. Knocking on my neighbour’s door had been met with silence. I’d even considered James, before shelving that idea.

Jasper makes a strangled, raspy noise in the back of his throat as he cocks his head on one side, tongue lolling from his mouth, and I’m glad the little scrap’s with me.

My stomach’s in turmoil, as I make my way to the door. I’ve no idea what my reception here will be like. It’s mid-afternoon, and although I’d set off soon after I got home, roadworks and diversions have conspired against me. I should have been here a couple of hours ago, but I’m here now and that’s all that matters.

I’ve not left a message to let Freddie know I was coming. It seems sneaky, somehow, as though I’m hijacking him, but if it’s the only way I get to speak to him, then it’s all I can do, because this is the biggest crisis I’ve faced in my life. I know it in my blood and bones. I know it in every atom and molecule. I know it in my heart, and I have to make Freddie know it, too.

My pulse hammers out of control as I stand in front of the door. Its dark, heavy, wood looks old, and with a shaking hand I reach for the big brass knocker, but before I can lift it, the door’s flung open and I stumble back in surprise.

A woman stands there, a little older than me, I think, but not by much. The resemblance is clear, and there’s no doubt who she is.

“I…” My voice fails me, the words getting stuck in my throat.

She doesn’t say anything, only looks at me through eyes that are as rich and deep a shade of hazel as Freddie’s, as she tilts her head slightly to the side, patiently waiting for me to speak. She knows who I am, I can feel it, but she’s not doing me any favours and not giving me any quarter, and why the hell should she?

“I’m looking for Freddie. I’m a—a friend,” I croak. It’s all I can manage.

“Are you?” she says, her Suffolk accent heavier than the traces I hear in Freddie’s. Her gaze shifts to Jasper, and her face lights up in a smile so much like Freddie’s it takes my breath away. “And who might this boy be?” She leans down and extends her hand, and I expect Jasper to shuffle away but, just like with Freddie, Jasper nuzzles in to her.

“This is Jasper. I didn’t like to leave him, not all day.”

“And so you shouldn’t. Dogs are like people, they need company,” she says, standing up straight. “Freddie’s not here.” She shrugs. “Most likely be gone for hours. He’s taken a bike, you see.”

“A bike? Sorry… I’ve travelled up from London, and I’ve got to see him today. It’s important. There’s something he needs to know. Something I need to put right.”

“I expect there is. I don’t know you, because he hasn’t said anything. He keeps everything hidden, or as much as he can. Always did. But it doesn’t stop me from guessing who you might be. Boyfriend? Although I’ve got to say, you’re a bit old for that moniker. Well, I know your dog’s name, so what’s yours?”

“Yes, of course. I’m Elliot.”

Her brow crinkles in thought. “No, he’s not mentioned any Elliot.”

My heart plummets. It must show in my face, and something relents in her voice.

“I’m Julie. Freddie’s mum, but you’ve guessed that I reckon. And London, you say. That’s some drive, so I suppose I can stretch to a cup of tea for you, and a bowl of water for Jasper here”

“Yes. Please.”

She nods, and opens the door wider, but she’s not yet ready to let me in.

“This is Freddie’s home, and here it’s what he says that counts, not what you say. You might want to see him but he might not want to see you.” She says the words without any animosity in the voice. It’s more a plain statement of fact. She’s protecting her son, and I understand that, but I’m here to protect us, me and Freddie.

“It’s vital I speak to him today. There are—there’s been a misunderstanding that needs to be put right. I just need him to hear me out, and if he tells me to go, I will.”

Julie nods, and there’s a small almost sad smile playing at the edges of the lips, as she steps aside and lets me in.

As soon as I walk into the kitchen, the aroma of something fragrant and summery assaults my senses; my mouth begins to water and my stomach rumbles.

“Jasper can make friends with Mervin. I expect he’s hungry, too.”

I’m about to say Jasper’s nervous around other dogs, but he’s straining at the leash, his stubby tail wagging, as he tries to sniff an old dog who’s every bit a mutt as he is.

“I think Mervin and Jasper will get along just fine.” Julie takes the leash from me and unhooks it from Jasper’s collar and I can only stare, dumbfounded, as Jasper settles his stiff little body next to Mervin.

“Sit yourself down.”

Julie ladles soup into a bowl from a huge pot bubbling on an old fashioned range, placing it before me along with a huge chunk of what’s clearly home-made bread, before topping up the dog bowl with dried food.

“You look as wrecked as Freddie does. He turned up late Wednesday. Called from the station he did, from the call box. No explanation other than that he wanted to come home early, so I went and brought my boy home. Home, where he’s safe and protected and loved, always has been and always will be. He needs to recover from whatever he needs to recover from. I won’t have, we won’t have, and by that I mean me and my husband, we won’t have anything come and disrupt that. Do you understand?”

I put down my spoon and meet Julie’s eye.

If you hurt my son, then I will hurt you. The message is loud and clear, and I nod my understanding.

“I’m not here to hurt him, but I do need to speak to him. He’s been told lies, and I’m here to tell him the truth. All of it.”

“He’s not said a word, about anything.” She smiles, and in it I recognise the ghost of Freddie’s. “But I can read him like an open book, the way I can with all my kids, and the words I see are written plain and clear.”

“What are they?”

She doesn’t answer, but instead takes my now empty bowl and plate over to the sink before opening a tin box from where she produces a cake and slices off a large chunk. Like the soup and the bread, it’s placed before me without a word.

“Sad words, full of heartbreak. I’ve seen words like them before, when that Paul Stringer piece of shit did a number on Freddie. Do you know about him?” Her eyes bore into me, and I nod.

“I know somebody hurt him, but he’s never talked about it and I’ve never pushed.”

“He keeps a lot locked up inside, the silly bugger. I can tell you some of it, Elliot.” She leans forward, her eyes locking onto mine. “Freddie gave his heart but it got ripped up and thrown back in his face. An older man stringing him along. Stringer, the name’s apt. He didn’t just go back to his long-term partner, to the man who’d been his fiancé, after promising Freddie the moon and stars, he went and got married.”

I jerk back. “Married?”

Long-term partner… fiancé… back together… marriage… Freddie thought that was going to be me and Gavin? Sickness boils in my stomach. That’ll never happen, and I have to make Freddie believe it. I have to make him believe history’s not repeating itself.

“It kicked his legs from under him. He came home for a bit, but Cosmo kept a beady eye on him. You know his friend Cosmo?”

“Yes, I do. He’s a good friend to Freddie.”

“He is. Thing is, Elliot, you’re an older man, too. Around the same age as me, I reckon. That in itself doesn’t surprise me. Always been drawn to those who’re older, has Freddie. Older friends when he was a kid, older boyfriends when he was of an age for such things. I’ve always put it down to him being so clever.”

Julie smiles, her pride in Freddie written across her face, but the smile fades almost immediately and her eyes turn chilly.

“But cleverness comes in different forms, and he’s not always been clever when it’s come to choosing boyfriends. He’s a good natured, easy going boy with so much to give—”

“I know that, and—”

She raises her hand, and there’s something almost imperious in the gesture, and I fall silent.

“He’s those things and so much more, and it’s meant there have been those who’ve taken advantage of that good nature. It happened with that Stringer, but it’ll not happen again. I won’t allow it. Do you understand me, Elliot?” Julie stares at me across the table, watchful and assessing. Even if I wanted to feed her lies and platitudes, she’d see right through me. But I don’t want to. “I don’t know what your situation is, or anything about you. Are you another one who’s going to kick my son’s legs from under him?”

“No. I would never do that to him.” My voice is hard and tight. “Yes, I had a long-term partner. We were engaged to be married. I thought we’d always be together but—but it ended, and there’s no way back. More than that, the thought of it makes me feel ill. That’s what Freddie needs to know, it’s what he needs to understand.”

Julie says nothing. She’s making her mind up, deciding what feels like my fate. The woman’s both my judge and jury and I can do nothing but await her verdict.

“Do you love my son, Elliot?”

“What?”

“It’s a simple and straightforward question, but I’ll repeat it. Do you love my son?”

I don’t hesitate, because the answer’s as simple and straightforward as the question.

“Yes, I do.” I push my fingers hard through my hair, and my scalp tingles. “But I never meant to. I tried not to, but somewhere along the way, it just—happened.”

“He’s a hard boy not to fall for,” Julie says, softly.

“He is. And I need to tell him that.”

“I think you do. Ah.” Her gaze shifts to over my shoulder. “Your chance’s come a little earlier than I thought it would. I think this calls for that cup of tea, now, don’t you?”