A Long Way Back (Unfinished Business #2) - Barbara Elsborg Page 0,67
out of the oven onto a chopping board. “What would you like?”
“Water.” He wanted a beer or wine, but didn’t want Ink to say he shouldn’t, didn’t want to hear no coming out of Ink’s mouth at all.
Ink brought the board to the table and cut the pizza into slices. Tay pulled one triangle onto his plate and Ink did the same.
“How did you cook when you were living in a squat?”
“I didn’t. Most squats don’t have services connected, including water. People used disposable BBQs or a primus stove or built a fire in a hearth and cooked on that. Or just ate cold stuff.”
“Could you use soup kitchens and food banks?”
“I bought warm food from cafés. I never used a soup kitchen or a food bank.”
“Why not?”
“You need a voucher for a food bank, and to get a voucher, you have to have a referral from a doctor, health visitor, or social worker.”
Tay put two and two together. They’d want information and Ink was swimming under the radar.
“What do you do if you’re ill?” Tay asked.
Ink shrugged. “I haven’t been ill.”
“But if you were?”
“I’d lie. Give a false name and address.”
Who are you hiding from?
“How do you manage to live like that?”
“I just do.”
Ink put another slice of pizza on Tay’s plate, then on his.
“What are your dreams?” Tay whispered. “What do you see in your future?”
No physical shadow crossed Ink’s face, but Tay felt as if it had. He saw the slight change in Ink’s eyes, the tightening of his mouth.
“I don’t see anything in my future.” Ink’s voice cracked as he spoke.
“But you said you always look on the bright side.”
“I do, but I don’t have an image of what I’d like my future to be.”
“If you did, what would be there?”
Ink exhaled and took so long to answer, Tay wondered if he would. “I’d live in a little house with a garden. Flowers at the front and back. A small lawn. Somewhere near the sea. I’d learn to drive, buy a car and explore new places. I’d work as a paramedic. I’d go to a tropical island on holiday. I might write a book. I’d live a quiet, peaceful life and I wouldn’t worry about anything.”
He took a bite of pizza and Tay thought it was more to fill his mouth and stop himself from talking than because he was hungry.
“Would you be on your own?” Tay asked.
“In the future that I can’t have? No, I wouldn’t be on my own.”
Tay slid his hand across the table and laid it over Ink’s. “What have you done?”
He waited for Ink to move his hand, but he didn’t.
Ink looked straight at him. “If I tell you, it can’t be taken back. You’re better off not knowing.” He pushed to his feet. “I’ll go and check whether the washing’s done.”
Which meant I’m not saying anything else. Tay wished that hadn’t made him even more curious, but it had. Maybe it was the forensic accountant in him, but now he really wanted to know what Ink had done.
He put the plates in the sink, filled the bowl with hot soapy water and went to sit on the couch. Dog jumped up and joined him. Tay tickled him behind his ears and Dog climbed onto his lap, pushing his head under Tay’s hand. He wished Ink were as easy to handle.
Tay knew the basics of gay sex—what went where and how to make it…work. He’d watched porn of all varieties, some of which had made him want to bleach his eyeballs. Fisting was definitely not something he’d ever try. He clenched up thinking about it. But a greater interest in gay porn than he’d ever had in straight porn, when it had been the guys he’d watched anyway, should have been enough to confirm the obvious. Men turned him on in a way that women didn’t. If he’d been braver when he was younger, he and Jonty could have experimented together. Not being honest had sent both their lives speeding in directions he wouldn’t have chosen for either of them.
But porn was one thing, real life another. How could he still be a fucking virgin, for Christ’s sake!
Ink came back into the kitchen, washed the plates and left them to dry.
Please come and sit with me.
“Anything you need?” Ink asked.
You. “Come here.”
“You want me sit with you?”
“No, I want you to do a striptease.”
Ink laughed, but Tay had only been half-joking. One glance at Ink’s forearms, and he wanted to stroke