But it hadn't come. Cliff drove his fists into the pockets of his bathrobe. Hell, he thought with self-directed disgust. Who would've thought that he'd be wearing the sodding shoes of insecurity?
He - Cliff Hegarty and not Gerry DeVitt - was the one who'd always said that permanent fidelity was nothing but a pit stop on the road to the grave. He was the one who'd preached about the dangers of seeing the same tired face at breakfast every morning, of finding the same tired body in bed every night. He'd always said that after a few years of that, only the knowledge of having had a secret encounter with someone new on the side
- someone who liked the thrill of the chase, the pleasures afforded by anonymity, or the excitement of deception - would stimulate a bloke's body into performing for a long-term lover. That's just the way it was, he'd always said. That was life.
But Gerry wasn't supposed to believe that Cliff had actually meant what he said. Flaming hell, no. Gerry was supposed to say with sardonic resignation, "Right, mate. You keep on talking, 'cause that's what you're good at, and talk is just talk." The last thing Cliff had ever expected was that Gerry might take his words to heart. Yet with a stomach quickly turning sour, Cliff forced himself to admit that Gerry must have done exactly that.
He wanted to say belligerently, Look, you want to end it, Ger? But he was too frightened at what his lover's answer might be. He realised in a flash of clarity that no matter how much he talked about roads to the grave, he didn't really want to split from Gerry. Not just because of these digs in Jaywick Sands, a few feet from the beach, where Cliff liked to roam, nor because of the old speedboat that Gerry had lovingly restored and in which the two of them roared across the sea in the summer, and not because Gerry had been talking about an Australian holiday during the months when wind rattled the house like a Siberian cyclone. Cliff didn't want to split with Gerry because . . . well, there was something bloody comforting in being hooked up with a bloke who said he believed in permanent fidelity . . . even if one never got round to mentioning that particular point to him.
Which is why Cliff said with far more indifference than he actually felt, "You looking for a Mexican boy these days, Ger? Got a taste for dark meat instead of white?"
Gerry turned from the window at that. He set his cup on the table. "You been keeping count?
Want to tell me why?"
Cliff grinned as he raised his hands in mock defence. "No way. Hey, this i'n't about me.
We been together long enough for me to know when somethin's on your mind. All's I'm asking is do you want to talk about it?"
Gerry side-stepped and crossed the kitchen to the fridge. He opened it. He began to gather the ingredients for his usual breakfast, placing four eggs into a bowl and sliding four bangers out of their wrapper.
"You cheesed off about something?" Cliff reached for the tie of his bathrobe nervously.
He retied it and returned his hands to his pockets.
^oo
"Okay, I know I mouthed off nasty when you cancelled our Costa Rica holiday, but I thought we'd set ourselfs straight about that. I know the pier job's a big one for you, and along with that house renovation. . . . What I'm saying's that I know there hasn't been enough work in the past and now there is and you want to take the pickin's and you can't take time off. I understand. So if you been cheesed off about what I said - "
"I haven't been cheesed off," Gerry said. He cracked the eggs and whipped them in the bowl while the bangers began to hiss on the cooker.
"Okay. Well, good."
But was it good, really? Cliff didn't think so.
Lately, he had begun to notice changes in Gerry: the uncharacteristic, lengthy silences, the frequent weekend retreats to the small garage, where he played his drums; the long nights he spent working on that private remodelling job in Bal-ford; the intense evaluative looks he'd taken to giving to Cliff when he thought Cliff wouldn't notice. So sure, maybe Ger wasn't cheesed off at the moment. But he was definitely something.