The next few days were spent drifting between Kim’s place and mine, juggling work and snatching a few hours with Kim when he wasn’t holed up in the workshop. It was tough, especially with the barn opening creeping ever closer, and it wasn’t long before I was as tired as him.
“Go home,” he said to me on Saturday morning. “Sleep. I love having you here, but I know you’ve got as much on as I have.”
That wasn’t entirely true, but I couldn’t deny that I had a backlog of admin to get through before I could start my next job. And I had a photography gig in Bristol that I had to prepare for, a two-night trip that I was dreading, despite the job being one I’d actively pursued. “Are you coming to the fair tomorrow?”
Kim shook his head. “I can’t. I’ve got too much to do. Jory and Calum are going to run my stall for me.”
“Jory?”
“From the studio.”
“Oh.”
I turned away, trying to hide my disappointment. I’d kind of counted on the autumn craft fair to be a day Kim could take away from the workshop, even if it did mean me standing in a field all day. Jesus. When was the bloke going to see daylight again?
Kim caught my arm. “Don’t be like that. I’m sorry, okay? I’m nearly done, I promise.”
“I know,” I said with a sigh. “Don’t mind me. I just miss you.”
Kim kissed me, effectively silencing any negativity brewing in my veins, chasing it down, and eclipsing it with the devilish twist of his tongue. I fell against him, kissing him back, then pulled away, pressing my forehead to his.
“Don’t forget to eat.”
“I won’t,” he said. “You too, though. I know how you get when you’re busy. We’re as bad as each other.”
I let him have that one. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow, after? If you finish in time.”
“Yeah . . . maybe. I’ll do my best.”
And that, it seemed, was as good as I was going to get for now. Reluctantly, I left him to it and went home, hitting my desk with a focussed fervour it had missed in recent days. Time slipped away from me, and it was dark when a knock at my door disturbed me hours later.
I ran to the door, hoping to find Kim, but it was Gaz, bearing an apron and a mischievous grin.
“You’ll be needing this tomorrow.”
“What the fuck for?”
“To run the stall with Mum. Me, Dad, and Nicky have got to see in a delivery from your fella; last but one, apparently.”
“And it takes four of you to see it in?”
“Aye, unless you want lover boy to unload it on his own? You know Dad can’t do it with his back.”
Dick. I knew I was lucky that my family was so accepting of my sexuality, but that didn’t make his shit-eating grin any less irritating, or the apron any easier to take. I booted Gaz out without offering him a beer, and skulked back to my computer. Stupid fucking craft fair. I’d been planning on photographing it and collating the images for the local magazine, not flogging chutney and jam. But I had little choice in the matter, and besides: there was no way I’d let Kim lug all those chairs to the barn on his own. If there was one thing my brothers were good for, it was hoofing shit around.
The next morning, I got up at the crack of dawn, which was easier than I’d have imagined without Kim’s warm presence to keep me in bed. I spent a few hours finalising my prep for my Bristol trip—packing, checking train times, charging a million batteries, and loading the software I used for my specialist drone onto my tablet—then I tied my dodgy apron on and drove to the farm that was hosting the last outdoor fair of the year.
I found Laura already there and halfway set up. I helped her finish, and then sloped off to find some breakfast. The smell of bacon lured me to a nearby stall and as luck would have it, past Kim’s stand, manned by Calum and a younger man I presumed to be Jory.
Calum waved. I nodded back and shouted that I’d drop by later if I got the chance, which was unlikely judging by the queue of vehicles lining up to get into the fair. Awesome.
It was midafternoon by the time warm arms slid around my waist, making me jump out of my skin.
“Jesus!”
Kim laughed. “Man, you’re such a dreamer. How have you never been mugged?”
“Piss off.” I waved a sticky jam spoon threateningly at him. “Maybe no fucker sees much worth taking, eh?”
“I don’t believe that.”
Kim’s gaze turned heated, and Laura cleared her throat, obviously amused. “Boys, behave. Why don’t you go and get a drink? I can manage here.”
It was a kind offer, but there was no way I was leaving her alone with the afternoon crowds. Besides, Kim had a stall of his own to check up on.
“Come for dinner after, then?” she asked Kim hopefully. “I’ve got enough lamb at the farm for the whole town.”
I waited for Kim to refuse, like he’d done everything else that week, but it seemed he was no more immune to Laura’s culinary kindness than anyone else. He left me with a promise to see me at dinnertime.
Later that evening, I still half expected him not to show up, so I was pleasantly surprised when I found him sitting in Laura’s kitchen with my dad. “Did you get all your work done?”
“Nope, but I’ve got seventy-two hours, right?”
My dad chuckled. “And then some. It doesn’t matter if there’s a few things missing, son. What you’ve delivered already is plenty.”
Kim rolled his eyes. “Jas said you’d say that.”
“That’s because we raised him to treat people like humans, not machines. If only he’d apply it to himself, eh?”
Dear God. It seemed Kim and I were both destined to have someone on our case at all times. I retreated to the stove to irritate Laura while Dad and Kim talked shop, and it wasn’t long before the rest of the world and his dog filed in for dinner.
The meal was loud and rowdy, the kind of occasion I usually just endured, but with Kim beside me, his hand on my leg, squeezing, I enjoyed every moment. And if the amount of food Kim put away was anything to go by, he did too. I tried not to consider it an indication of how little he’d eaten while I’d left him to his own devices.
After dinner, my dad cracked out his homemade plum brandy. I took that as our cue to leave and hustled Kim outside.
In the yard, I pushed him against my father’s Land Rover, hoping the taste of wine on my lips wouldn’t upset him.
It didn’t seem to. He kissed me back, then spun us around, slamming his body against me, pressing, grinding. “Come home with me?”
I groaned. “I can’t. I’ve got to get home so I can drive to Truro in the morning.”
“The Bristol thing?”
“Uh-huh,” I said regretfully. The best job I’d had since coming to Porthkennack seemed like the worst idea in the world with Kim’s cock digging into my thigh. “I’ve got to leave at eight.”
“Eight, eh?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s plenty of time for what I’ve got in mind, mate. Come on, let’s go.”
And by go he meant drive back to my place.
I let us in, almost shy as I dropped my keys in the bowl. No one outside of my immediate family had ever been inside my Porthkennack flat. “This is me.”
Kim glanced around. “Ain’t got much here, have you?”
“I left it all in London, remember? In bits?”
Kim nodded and continued his inspection while I chucked our coats in the cupboard and went to the kitchen for Jammie Dodgers and mugs of tea. It was just what I wanted, but Kim looked apologetic when I handed him his. “You can have a nightcap if you want, you know. Don’t deprive yourself on my account.”
“I’m not. I live on Jammie Dodgers and tea when Laura doesn’t send me a care package.”
“I don’t believe you. That fish pie you made was awesome.”
I laughed. “I’m glad you think so, because it’s the only thing I can cook, and it’s not something I’d ever cook for myself.”
“You should cook for yourself. It’s good for the soul.”
“Yeah? Done much cooking this week?”
“Piss off.”
I laughed again and let it go. The time for nagging had passed, and I just wanted to go to bed with him—to sleep, as much as anything. I’d missed him the night before, and I’d be missing him even more after tonight.
After giving Kim a brief tour, I led him to my bedroom where I ditched the tea and biscuits and set about stripping him. He returned the favour, and we crawled into bed, burying ourselves under the covers, hiding from the world as we reconnected in every way possible.
Kim took control, and I let him, giving myself willingly to whatever he wanted. He turned me onto my side and gently raised my leg, slipping into me from behind. The position was intimate, tender. My eyes fluttered as I came with a quiet gasp and felt another piece of my heart give itself over to all that was him.
My alarm woke me the next morning. I rolled over, instinctively searching for Kim, but found nothing but a cold space where he’d been the night before.
Disappointment flooded through me, though I wasn’t altogether surprised. Despite the awesomeness we’d ended on yesterday, Kim hadn’t been able to completely hide his agitation at being away from his work. And it was an agitation I understood, so how could I be angry with him? I couldn’t, and I wasn’t. Just a few more days and it would all be over, and then we could get back to building what we’d started.
I got up, showered, and left the house with the last of the Jammie Dodgers stuffed in my pocket. My train was on time, and before I knew it, I was halfway to Bristol, leaving Kim far behind.
The notion made my stomach churn and my heart skip a beat. We’d gone from a one-night hookup, to friends, and then friends that fucked, to being completely entwined with each other, and being without him, even for just two nights, felt all wrong.
So wrong, that I was tempted to get off the train at Bodmin and head straight back home. But I didn’t. Beyond the fact that we both had work to do, I still hadn’t got around to telling Kim I was head over heels in love with him—if indeed such a thing was necessary—and so barging into the workshop a few hours after I was supposed to be gone for two days might seem a little extreme.
I made it to Bristol and checked into my hotel. A text was waiting for me from Kim: Thinking of you—three simple words that eased the anxious gripe in my gut. I smiled and fired a message back: Thinking of you too . . . and missing you.
Missing him didn’t come close to how I was feeling, but after waiting a moment for a reply I didn’t really expect, I pocketed the phone and got on with my day.
The job was in the city, photographing the interior of Bristol Cathedral and taking some aerial footage of the outside with my Phantom 4. I did the drone work first, and the flights took most of the day, only stopping when the light got away from me.
I packed up and headed back to the hotel, craving a hot shower, a beer, and a greasy burger. The shower in my room provided instant gratification, and a grumpy hotel porter appeared with my dinner a while later. I didn’t bother with the beer. Whatever Kim thought about it, being with him was actually good for my alcohol consumption, and I was feeling the benefits of drinking less already.
My early start caught up with me fast, and I was dozing off when my phone rang sometime later.
Blinking, I reached for it, half expecting it to be Dad or Laura panicking about something ridiculous to do with the barn opening. Kim’s throaty chuckle took me by surprise.
“Did I wake you?”
I sat up and squinted at the time: four minutes past midnight. Damn. It had been ten o’clock last time I’d checked. “A little. I don’t mind, though. I was hoping you’d call.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ve missed you today. I wish you were here with me.”
“Me too, and if you’d gone a day later, I could’ve been.”
The lightness in Kim’s tone was a clue, and it took me a moment to grasp what it meant. “You finished?”
“Yup. Delivered the last dozen chairs an hour ago.”
“Wow.” I couldn’t mask the awe in my voice. The last I knew, Kim had been twenty-five chairs short of the forty-chair order, with just a pile of driftwood to help him along. The scale of what he and his crew of guys had achieved in such a short time was incredible. “I’m so happy for you. How do you feel?”
“Relieved. I didn’t think we were going to make it, and we wouldn’t have done except that your dad called me this morning and told me not to paint the last few chairs . . . to keep ’em natural with just a varnish. Saved me two days of fannying around.”
“Thank God for my dad and his indecisiveness, eh?”
“Indeed. Anyway, enough about me. How are you? How was your day?”
“Long.” I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Drone flying is fun, but it’s hard work, you know? Got to make sure I don’t hit anything.”
“Like a plane?”
“Only if a plane was about to clip Bristol Cathedral, but yes . . . planes, birds, buildings. I’m fucking knackered.”
“Yeah, you sound it. I’m gonna let you get back to sleep.”
“Don’t go.”
Kim chuckled softly. “I’m not going anywhere, mate. Get some shut-eye, yeah? And get through tomorrow. Then we can open that bloody barn and I can stop seeing it in my sleep.”
Knowing that the sooner I slept, the sooner I’d be a day closer to seeing him again, I relented and whispered good night. Kim returned the sentiment, but his soft sigh kept me from hanging up the phone.
“Kim? What is it?”
“Nothing, really, I just need you to know that I’ve never felt this way about anyone else. You believe that, don’t you?”
I closed my eyes and pictured him on the steps of his beautiful trailer, long legs stretched out in front of him, nursing a cup of lukewarm tea. “I do. Good night, Kim.”
“Night, Jas.”
The next day passed in a blur of hard-core photography. I finished the aerial footage in the morning and then set about the interior shots in the afternoon. I’d hoped to get it done by the evening, perhaps allowing me to head home early, but it wasn’t to be. Daylight faded too fast, leaving me stuck in Bristol for another night.
I called Kim to moan about it, but he didn’t answer, and I didn’t call back. The bloke hadn’t had a night off in weeks and chances were he was fast asleep, catching up on the rest he’d so desperately needed. I sent him a text and then passed out myself.
It wasn’t until the next morning when I woke to a blank phone that I realised I’d left my charger at home. Going out to buy one would cost me precious time, so I didn’t bother, but I headed straight for the cathedral to finish my work.
I wrapped it up in two hours and dashed to the train station, jumping on the first train I saw heading south. It was barely ten o’clock, and the three-hour fast line left me plenty of time to make the four o’clock barn launch.
Or so I’d thought. Animals on the tracks meant delays, and I got caught in traffic on my way back to Porthkennack. It was after five by the time I rushed up the driveway of Belly Acre Farm, and I’d missed the grand opening, though the party appeared to be in full swing.
“There you are!” Laura grabbed my arm and propelled me into the barn. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
“Sorry, Ma. My train got stuck at Plymouth. How did it go?”
“See for yourself,” Laura said. “I’ve got to get back to the kitchen.”
She left me at the door. I grinned after her, pleased for her, proud of her, and indeed proud of everyone who’d been involved in a project that had seemed like it would never come to fruition.
I stood to one side and surveyed the bustle of the packed barn: the families eating Laura’s cake and Gaz’s chutney with local cheese, the buzz of conversation, the hum of contentment, and the faint surge of gentle laughter that warmed the barn even more than the central fireplace. And of course, the bespoke artisan furniture that Kim had poured his heart and soul into. I wandered around, taking in everything from the mismatched driftwood chairs, to the beautiful tables he’d built from piles and piles of discarded pallets. Each piece was stunning, and none were the same. For the millionth time since I’d met him, I was utterly floored by his brilliance.
I was on my second loop when I spotted the picture frames hung on the walls—rustic white imperfect squares that I instantly knew had been made with the smashed-up bookcase from my London flat. Eight of them in total, all filled with a timeline of Manning family photographs. The sight of my family made my heart fit to burst, and it was the first time in as long as I could remember that I felt something for a photo I hadn’t taken myself.
A light came on in my soul, illuminating the giant space that Kim had carved out. All I needed now was the man himself, but there was no sign of him in the barn, not even with Brix and Calum, who were huddled up at the back, digging into a heaping plate of sweet ginger fairing cookies.
“I haven’t seen him in days,” Brix said. “I thought he was with you.”
“He was until Monday morning. I’ve been in Bristol since then.”
Brix’s concern was sudden, and the excitement I’d arrived with died an abrupt death. I looked at Calum, hoping to see the measured calm I’d seen in him on the day we’d gathered the driftwood, but he already had his phone in his hand. “I’ll call around,” he said. “Jas, go check he’s not with your dad. Don’t worry, if I find him, I won’t make it obvious you’re looking for him.”
Kim getting the hump was the least of my concerns as I left Calum and Brix behind and made a loop of the farm, asking anyone and everyone if they’d seen Kim, but no one had.
My dad trailed me out of the farmhouse, his flowered shirt billowing behind him. “What is it, son? Has something happened?”
“I don’t know, Dad. I just expected him to be here.”
“He did say he would be. Maybe he’s running late? Have you called him?”
“My phone’s dead.”
“Give it here. I’ll plug it in.”
I left my phone with my dad and rushed back to Brix and Calum, who were at the barn door.
“No one’s seen him,” Calum said, “but that doesn’t mean anything’s happened.”
Brix looked less optimistic. I grabbed his arm. “What do you think? Are you worried?”
“I’m always worried about Kim, mate. Even the good stuff sends him off the rails.”
My heart dropped into my stomach as Kim’s ominous words about his past relapses flashed into my mind—“I guess I’m a bit depressed. It happens now and then, especially when something good happens in my life. Weird, eh?” He’d sounded happy the last time I’d heard his voice, free. Was it possible that the relief of finishing such a mammoth job had tipped him over the edge?
By the obvious worry in Brix, I reckoned so. “I need to find him.”
“He won’t be at home,” Brix said.
“Where will he be?”
“The cliffs,” Calum answered. “It’s where they all go when they can’t feel the sea.”
The cryptic answer made perfect sense as I recalled the evening I’d spent with Kim huddled up in my car at Porthkennack’s highest point.
I dashed away from Calum and Brix to my car, which I’d had to leave on the road leading up to the farm. Some twat in an Audi had blocked me in. I forced my way out and scraped the shit out of their fancy paintwork, then I hit the road, my heart still seeping from the soles of my feet. Much of Kim was still a mystery to me, but of one thing I was certain: something was wrong.