Operation Fake Relationship - Jay Northcote Page 0,13

can’t see a fucking thing, Nick.”

“Here you go.” Blinding light flashed in his eyes, and he held up a hand to cover them.

“Not helping!”

“Sorry. But look down, not up. See, there’s a couple of little footholds. Just brace your hands against the sides and work your way up. Then once you get higher there’s stuff for your hands too.

“If I get stuck in here it’s going to be really embarrassing. You know that, right? I wasn’t planning on spending Christmas Eve having the fire brigade cutting me out of a tree.”

Nick laughed. “You won’t get stuck. Stop being such a wuss.”

Fucking cheek. Jackson sighed and started to climb.

It was dark, disorienting, and claustrophobic. “Now I know how Father Christmas feels going up and down all those chimneys. Poor bastard.”

Nick’s laughter gave him the boost he needed to keep going. “That’s it. Nearly there. It’s worth the effort, I promise. Now reach up… a little higher… move your hand to the right. There you go!”

As Jackson finally hauled himself up to where Nick was, he could see how the tree trunk opened out to form something rather like the edge of a crater from which the branches grew. “Okay. This is pretty cool.”

“Told you so.” Nick shone his torch around, and Jackson noticed that someone had added to the tree’s natural platform by nailing two layers around the edge. Nick was sitting on the higher one and resting his feet on the lower.

“It looks like one of those things they have on boats. You know… the lookout point at the top of the mast.”

“A crow’s nest?”

“Yeah. One of those. Are these planks safe?”

“I think so.” Nick gave the one he was sitting on a good thump. “They’re not that old, and they were good quality wood when we put them up. We treated so they wouldn’t rot.”

“We?” Jackson moved cautiously, clambering to sit on a plank opposite Nick.

“Me, Pete, and our father.” Nick’s voice sounded younger than usual, more vulnerable, as he added, “He helped us build it when we were kids. Maria was still too little. We called it the Pirate Tree.”

“Must have been fun.”

“Yeah. It was.” His expression was hard to read in the darkness, but the wistful tone tugged at Jackson’s heart. “We had some good times, especially when we were little. I have a lot of happy memories if I look back far enough.”

“When did it change?” Jackson asked softly. Nick rarely talked about his childhood, not with Jackson anyway. Maybe he talked about it to his counsellor. Jackson knew what had happened in later years and knew why Nick had cut contact. But once he’d made that decision he hadn’t wanted to look back. Even with Maria, their childhood was off-limits as a topic of conversation.

“I don’t remember exactly. Maybe when I was twelve or thirteen? I know I was at secondary school, and not having a great time there. Dad lost his job and was really stressed about that. He started drinking more, and then his new job made him even more stressed. His drinking got worse and so did his mood. He stopped laughing, and he never had any time for us—unless he was criticising us for having messy rooms, or having a go at me for not working hard enough, or taking the piss out of me for wanting to be in the school play instead of on the football team.” The angry bitterness in Nick’s voice didn’t mask the pain that lurked beneath. “Nothing I did was ever right. He made me feel as if I was never good enough, and that was before he knew I was gay.” He stopped and let out a huff of frustration. “Ugh. Sorry. I’m ranting.”

“It’s okay. I asked.” Jackson wanted to move closer, maybe offer a hug. But it was dark, and he was afraid of missing his step and falling down the hole in the tree.

“Yeah. But it’s probably not the best time to get myself worked up over all that stuff when I have to go back and smile politely at him over dinner later. It’s stupid that I still care anyway. It’s all in the past.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t count.” Jackson ached to wrap Nick tight in his arms and tell him he was absolutely good enough. He was perfect exactly as he was.

“Fuck him. I don’t care what he thinks.” The childish defiance in Nick’s tone didn’t ring true. It was obvious that he did care, no matter how much