435

“Come!” he said softly.  “Let’s go.  My pad is just round the corner.”

As she locked the street door, even though she wasn’t looking at him, she was conscious of him next to her, his presence solid and … male …. yet not her father.  Good.  Reassuring.  Comforting.  Fitting.

His flat was big.  Almost as big as the whole house she and Luke shared.  It was on the top floor of a Victorian or Federation house, with tall windows looking out on the street outside. 

“Sorry for the mess,” he apologised.

She shook her head.  There were clothes on the sofa, and small piles of books everywhere, as well as bookcases made of bricks and planks.  It felt like home, warm, accepting, unjudging, happy.

She felt unshed tears ready to fall.  Home.  This was what a home was like, not the prison she’d grown up in.  The walls here weren’t scented with fear and pain.  She swallowed hard.  She would not cry.  She would not.

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434

It was another warm summer evening, the air scented with the odours of the city, of a city living life to the full.  The tunes from the jazz band in the café down along Brunswick Street drifted into air, magical and romantic.  Esmé had seen where the band played, in daylight, and it wasn’t at all romantic, the sofas worn and greasy, the walls stained, and the floor holed ancient lino.  Yet in the dim light at night, with the light glinting of the metal of the instruments, with a glass in your hand, somehow it all seemed glamorous and exciting. 

There in the tiny courtyard, the music was softened and muted by distance and the thick air.  There in the courtyard it seemed sheer magic, unspoilt by tawdry recollections, by reality.

The band was playing “Love is the Sweetest Thing” and Keith and Esmé were swaying slowly across the worm flagstones, their dance floor as private as any in the most expensive penthouse apartment.   The tepid air was filled with the orange-blossom scent of Chinese jasmine which grew with robust shiny green leaves over the weathered brick.  She could smell Keith’s Brut aftershave, his male body, his end-of-day armpits, the slight sourness on his breath from the wine.  She could feel his erection. 

When he kissed her, it was perfectly right.  

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433

The watcher stood in a doorway across the road from Luigi’s block of flats, his gaze fixed on the window where he’d seen Cody walk across and then look out into the street.   He knew where the twink was.  He could get him whenever he left the flat.  He’d have to be careful though.  There were people on the street.  Perhaps late at night, when they returned from eating or drinking with their little friends.  When they were at their most relaxed.  Not expecting an attack.

A passer-by looked at him and quickly averted his eyes.  There’s nothing wrong with me! the watcher thought, angrily, glaring at the other man’s disappearing back.  I do God’s work.  I rid the world of filth.  He heard Father McAllister’s approving burr.  Good lad!  

Nevertheless, a renewed caution made him go back to his car and drive away.  He did not want the police to start questioning him.  Not until he had dealt with the twink permanently.  After that, God would show him the way forward.  He knew now where they lived.  He had time.  Patience.  Patience.  All would be brought to him.

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432

“Yeah.”  Luigi nodded.  “I’m glad Jace found you, Co.  I couldn’t bear … you … I love you Cody … don’t … don’t … do something stupid.”

“You mean like kill myself?”  Cody’s voice was deeply ironic, bitter and sad all at the same time.

“Yeah.  Like kill yourself.”

“I won’t.  I think.   I … see, I thought about what had happened.  And I know this sounds stupid, Lou, but I feel that I was meant to escape, to live.  So many lucky things happened.  I mean—how likely is that?  But … what will become of me?  OK, I still have a job.  But … will I ever see my kids again?”

“You will.  I promise.”

Cody looked comforted but Luigi had no idea if he could make his promise come true.  He knew lawyers.  Friends of Richard.  The lawyer who’d drawn up Richard’s will and fought on his behalf in court when Richard’s family had contested the will.  Yeah.  He’d fight for Cody.  And Luigi would use Richard’s money to pay him.  He knew that was what Richard would have wanted.

His cock had gone flaccid and the cock-jacket hung on it loosely.  He took Cody’s hand and put it on his cock. 

Cody smiled a little sadly.  “What shall I do?”

“Anything you want.  Whatever.  Whatever doesn’t hurt.  How about a good old-fashioned wire-pull?”

Cody pulled him down onto the bedclothes and kissed him slowly, carefully, as if Luigi were something precious which might be damaged.   “I love you, Lou,” he breathed as his hand sought Luigi’s stiffening cock.

After, they lay entwined, the jizz on Luigi’s stomach sticky between them. 

They slept.

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431

“When I came out to my father, he beat me up.  Locked me in my bedroom.  Told me he wouldn’t let me out until I promised I would be straight.  Well, I couldn’t see very well—he’d hit me on one eye—and there was blood dripping down my face.  My bedroom was on the second floor, so I suppose he thought I wouldn’t try to escape.  But I tied together the sheets on my bed and dragged the bed up to just under the window and tied the end of the sheet to one leg of the bed.  I didn’t know whether it would hold me or how long but, you know, I was beyond caring by then.  I thought … well I thought if I died it might be a good thing.  Best for everyone.”

He didn’t speak for many seconds.  Cody leant his head against Luigi’s shoulder.

“Go on,” he said.

“Yeah.  Well, just as well my ma has an obsession with quality.  The sheets were thick and they held and so did the bed.  I abseiled down the wall.”

“Abseiled?”

“You know, where you let yourself down bit by bit, using the wall and the rope or in this case the sheets.”

“Abseiled?”

Luigi turned to look at Cody, who was grinning slyly at him.  “Just because I’m a swishy queen doesn’t mean I’m not good at gymnastics.”  He grinned back then pulled Cody closer before going on.  “It helps to have a rope and a harness, but you can do it with two sheets.  Just.  They’re not as long as you think.  And the first floor is higher than you think, too.  I had to drop the last half a metre.”

“Then what did you do?”

“I walked to my grandmother’s.  I didn’t know for sure what she would do but she’s always been on my side.  She’s always loved me.  So I walked there.  10 k’s.”

“How long did that take you?”

“Nearly two hours.”

“Yeah, I think that’s how far I walked.  Yesterday.  Maybe longer, even.”

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Will post ...

.... another episode of Majorca Flats tonight, Ozzie time.

Meanwhile, since this story is about love in all its guises  ....

430

Cody turned to look at him at last.

“It will never go away, will it?  I’ll always bear the scars, won’t I?”

“About the sex, well, we can try a series of butt plugs starting at small and working up.  To huge if you want.  They’re hot anyway, even if you aren’t using them to get used to … you know.  About the mental scars …. Well, they heal better than physical ones, I think.  If you have people who love you, who help you forget …”

“ … never.  I’ll never forget!”

“No, prolly not.  But … Coads love, it … we …. all have bad memories.  And we keep going.  We do.  One foot in front of the other.  And if we can find someone to love, someone who loves us … we … we recover.  Slowly.  We get better.  The scars hurt less and less until there are just twinges.”

“How do you know this?”

Luigi told him.

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