Brody arrived at work to find the film crew unloading their equipment from their van. He slipped past them into the building and made straight for the coffee. Rita was just taking off her coat.

“Want a drink?” Brody asked.

“Please. You on your own today?”

“He’s at work.” Brody had barely woken when Aden had rolled out of bed to go and help with the horses. Until it was time for Brody to get up, he’d lain there thinking of a way to persuade Aden to stay and come up with nothing he felt would work. Des couldn’t afford to pay him and Aden deserved a better job than mucking out stables.

“It was good last night,” Rita said.

Brody blinked.

“The TV. Didn’t you watch?”

“I forgot.”

She laughed. “You can get it on catch up.”

“I didn’t say anything stupid, did I?”

“No more than usual.”

“Ha ha.”

“Aden was good with the animals yesterday,” Rita said.

“He was.” Surprisingly good.

“Henrik can’t—”

“Henrik can’t what?” Henrik walked into the staff area with Odin, his dog, beside him.

“You can’t believe the change in Odin.” Rita tickled the dog’s head.

“True.” Henrik nodded for Brody to follow him.

“Want a coffee?” Brody asked.

“No thanks.”

He took his drink into Henrik’s office and dropped onto a chair. Odin put his massive head on Brody’s knee and stared up at him. “No biscuits, sorry.”

Odin snorted and settled his lanky frame on the floor next to Henrik.

“He’s better,” Henrik said.

“Yeah, he is. That’s the first time in ages he’s put his head on my lap.”

“Not just better. Cured.”

“Cured?” Brody frowned. “But… Are you sure?”

Odin had developed dilated cardiomyopathy, a disease of the heart muscle where the walls of the heart thinned and caused progressive heart failure. There was no cure.

“I did an ECG,” Henrik said. “There’s no sign of a problem.”

“But…”

Henrik inhaled. “I know. It’s impossible. He showed all the symptoms: fluid in the lungs, chronic malaise, coughing, loss of appetite. Look at him. He’s okay, but he can’t be.”

“Want me to run a few tests? Double check?”

Henrik nodded. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but something happened here yesterday morning and not just to Odin. I had several animals brought into the consulting room that had nothing wrong with them. Usually owners delay too long, not come in when there’s nothing the matter. We were only open for emergencies but I had more time wasters in one morning than I get in a month. Not only that but some of the animals we kept in are fine to go home. Wounds have healed abnormally fast. A couple of dogs I hadn’t expected to be perky for days are jumping up at the bars like puppies. Did you notice anything with your cases?”

“I had a rabbit that was supposed to have broken its leg. It was fine. A dog that couldn’t walk but when its owner put it down, it trotted across the consulting room wagging its tail. Yeah. Five cases where nothing was the matter.”

Henrik scratched behind Odin’s ears. “The nurses are talking among themselves about the animals that were in overnight. I’ve asked them not to. I don’t want the TV crew picking up on an idea that miracles happened here. There has to be an explanation, but I don’t know what it is.” He looked at Odin. “I’m just grateful.”

Brody pushed to his feet. “I’ll take Odin and check him out. Here, Odin.”

The dog went straight to Brody.

“Where did Aden come from?” Henrik asked.

“Deptford.” He didn’t think that was quite what Henrik meant but Brody didn’t know any more than that.

“He seems a nice guy.”

“Yeah, he is.” Despite his claim not to be. “That reminds me, I need to tell you something. My ex, a guy called Matthew Frazer-Hamilton, is an ex for a reason. Apart from thinking this job was perfect, I came here to get away from him, but Matt turned up at my cottage the other day. Twice. He’s not listening to me telling him to get lost. It’s possible he might come to the practice, and cause trouble. Whatever he tells you is likely to be a lie.” Actually, it might not be. “I’d appreciate it if he was not allowed to stay on the premises.”

“What does he want?”

“To convince me to give him another chance. That’s not going to happen.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to talk to him? Reason with him? Make him see there’s no point pursuing you?”

Brody caught the change in tone and got the message. “I didn’t string you along.”

“No, but you let me hope.”

That was your fault, not mine. “I wasn’t in a good place when I came here, Henrik. It was hard enough to hold myself together for work. Matt is persistent and persuasive. We’ve had an on-off relationship for thir…a lot of years. I found it hard to break away from him. It’s over as far as I’m concerned.”

“You should still talk to him.”

Brody gritted his teeth and took Odin out of the room. He part wished he’d not said anything. It made him realise how pointless it would be going to the police. They’d think it was just a lover’s quarrel, even if he told them about Matt trying to kill Aden. There was no proof.

He ran the tests he could do within the practice and Odin was fine. Maybe the only word was miracle. Brody had seen the results when Henrik first diagnosed cardiomyopathy and agreed with him. It wasn’t possible Odin’s heart could have recovered. The only conclusion had to be that they’d both misdiagnosed the problem. Maybe it had been pneumonia, or some other severe pulmonary problem—hypertension, an embolism. Brody closed his eyes and stretched as he thought of things it might have been. Hyperthyroidism? Odin hadn’t gained weight which would be a sign of the latter. His coat looked fine too, shiny, but they had to have missed something. He took a blood sample to send to a specialist lab.

When he led Odin back out to the reception, where he usually spent the day behind the counter, there seemed to be an abnormally large number of people waiting. The TV crew were talking to them. Brody narrowed his eyes and retreated to his consulting room.

 

Aden went back to the cottage at lunchtime, glad to find Brody had locked the door. He used the key he’d been given, slipped inside, took off his boots and coat, and headed straight for the kitchen. After he’d made himself a coffee and a cheese sandwich, he sat at the table with Brody’s iPad and Googled Matthew Frazer-Hamilton.

It wasn’t hard to find stuff. The wanker had won awards for his teaching. Inspirational, innovative, exciting. Words used to describe his lessons. There was nothing negative about him at all, which was disappointing. The last teaching post Aden could trace was at a school in Sheffield. He found a photo of the guy with his wife and their youngest child at a charity event. Another of him receiving one of his awards. A bit more searching and Aden uncovered where they lived. A check of the BT online phone book and he had their home number.

What was hard was coming up with a way to get rid of the guy for good apart from the obvious—cut him up and dump him at sea. Yeah, well that wasn’t going to happen. He could threaten to tell his school, his wife, his kids, the police about his relationship with a fourteen year old, but it wasn’t Aden’s story to tell.

Had the teacher really left his wife or just said he had? It was possible Brody wasn’t the only kid he’d seduced, but something told Aden he was. If the guy had been into barely pubescent teenagers, he’d have left Brody well behind by now, and probably been caught, but that wasn’t the case. Brody was his obsession.

Aden chewed his sandwich thinking about what Raphael had said, that he had to come to understand what love was, to believe in it, feel it, offer it. His finger hovered over the exit button before he typed three words into the Google search box.

What is love? Seven hundred and forty-five million results. Approximately. He groaned. After reading a few of the entries he was no wiser.

Maybe love wasn’t something that could be defined. He knew there were lots of kinds of love. Did every mother take one look at her newborn and love them? Aden’s mother hadn’t, but he’d seen the love Karen and Des had for their boys, that need to cherish, nurture and protect, their horror when they thought Jamie had died.

Aden understood that sort of love. If he’d had a child he’d have loved it. The bleak reality of his early years had left him keenly aware of what he was missing out on. Not that he’d ever have a kid but if he did, he’d have done all he could to be the perfect parent. And when people grew old and infirm, that love was returned by their kids. Or should be. Aden was glad his parents were dead. It saved him even having to think about what they were doing.

He took a sip of his coffee. Then there was love for pets and pets for their owners. Could animals love? He thought they could. Dogs in particular. Aden was fond of Captain. He worried about him, didn’t want him to go to someone who didn’t take care of him. He didn’t love the horse, though caring for anything was a novelty.

Plus people loved their countries, their religion, even those fucking terrorists who’d killed him in a misguided faith that their path was the only true one. Complete and absolute devotion to their cause, a willingness to destroy anyone who threatened their beliefs and even those who didn’t, but were indirectly perceived to. Aden got those sorts of love.

The tricky one was romantic love. A man and woman, two men, two women, maybe add a third or fourth in there, mix it up a bit. He’d had threesomes, but had never felt that filled a particular need in him. Hot sex had to be part of love, didn’t it? That rush of desire when you saw or touched or even thought about the other person. But according to Google that period of intense passion didn’t last. Aden only had to think about Brody and his cock reacted. Hard to imagine a time when the pair of them fucking wouldn’t set his pulse racing. Well, maybe he could. Less than three weeks and they’d be apart and he wouldn’t have a pulse anymore. His throat thickened and he swallowed at the sensation, but it didn’t shift.

He read on.

Love was thinking about someone when you weren’t with them.

Aden did that. He was thinking about Brody now, doing a worthwhile job, making people’s pets better. Would Aden still think about him when they were apart? Would Dante let him keep those memories? Unlikely. Maybe if Aden tried to act as though he didn’t care about the guy, but Dante would see through it. Maybe it would be more of a punishment if he remembered Brody, thought about what could have been. Shit.

He kept reading.

Love was wanting to do stuff together, fun stuff, but also a willingness to do dirty and boring things. Wanting that to continue forever.

Aden liked it when he and Brody cooperated. They’d cooked side by side last night and it had been fun, feeding and teasing each other. Doing the laundry had made them both laugh, pretending their jeans were getting it on, and then they’d got it on. Brody against the wall, Aden fucking him hard. But nothing was forever, not in Aden’s case.

Love was about being open and honest. Offering your heart and trusting it wouldn’t be broken.

Aden hadn’t been open and honest. He’d not told Brody everything. How could he? Aden’s heart was a wizened, sad little organ skulking behind his ribs. You couldn’t break something that had never been given a chance to grow. And that wasn’t just the fault of his parents, it was his fault too. Sleeping around, avoiding commitment, never allowing anyone the chance to get to know him. Aden had convinced himself it was the better way because it kept him safe.

I was scared. I am scared. He gulped. He’d been different with Brody, he knew that. Aden was unused to spending so much time with anyone. He felt as if his world had expanded like a balloon, was still expanding and now he worried what would happen when it popped. Brody had opened Aden’s eyes to so much. But love? He’d not known the guy five minutes. There was no such thing as love at first sight. Not unless you were in a fairytale.

The teacher had been in Brody’s life since he was fourteen. Maybe off and on but all those years… He’d followed Brody, eventually left his wife and kids—if that was true—and was prepared to do anything for the man he was in love with. Love or obsession?

Aden Googled what is the difference between obsession and love. Twenty-five million hits. What turns love into obsession? Two and half million. The more Aden read, the more he saw the difference. This had gone on so long between Brody and the teacher, without any admission by the older guy that what he felt was excessive, that Aden couldn’t see how he stood a chance of convincing Matt to leave Brody alone. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.

Karen was only too happy to let Aden borrow her phone though he’d had to lie and tell her he was planning a treat for Brody. He took the phone into the yard to make sure he wasn’t overheard. The first call he made was to the school Matt was supposed to be working at. Aden didn’t have to use much subterfuge. He just asked to speak to Matthew Frazer-Hamilton.

“Mr. Hamilton no longer works here,” he was told.

“Oh. I wanted to interview him for a magazine. Do you know where he’s working now?”

“Bailey’s Academy in Surrey.”

“Thank you.”

Shit. It was bad news that he’d moved down here.

Aden called Matt’s wife.

“Hello?” she said.

“Good afternoon. I wonder if I could speak to Mr. Frazer-Hamilton please.”

She disconnected the call.

Aden called her back. “Please don’t cut me off.”

“He’s not here,” she snapped.

“I know. He’s down here.”

“Surrey?”

“Yes.” So she knew where Matt was.

“Why did you ask to speak to him?”

Aden bit his lip. “I wanted to hear your reaction. Whether you wondered where he was or whether you knew. If you were okay about it.”

“What does it have to do with you?”

“I’m worried about a friend of mine.”

“Who are you? Him?”

I should have thought this through.

“Are you?” she whispered. “The one he can’t leave alone?”

“No.”

“You are, aren’t you? I’ve had enough of his promises. I threw him out. You’re welcome to him.”

“Please listen. I’m frightened for my friend. I don’t want Matt to hurt him.”

“What do you expect me to do about it? Your friend didn’t care that he was hurting me. Taking my husband…” She choked back a sob.

“My friend was fourteen years old when this started,” Aden said. “Fourteen.”

“Oh God.”

“It’s messed him up. That’s not an excuse, but he needs this to end, just like you’ve ended things. I don’t want my friend hurt anymore. Will you give me your husband’s phone number?” Aden held his breath.

But he got what he wanted. He repeated the number a few times, and thought up a song to help him remember.

Matt had not left his wife. She’d dumped him which was not the story he’d told Brody.

Aden took the phone back to Karen. “Thanks.”

“I’m going shopping in Caterham this afternoon before I collect the kids from school. Would you like to go with me?”

Aden thought about the twenty pound note Des had given him. “Yes please.”

 

With instructions to meet her back in the supermarket car park in an hour, Aden took a wander along the high street. Flakes of snow had begun to flutter from the sky and he turned up the collar of his coat. Eleven days since he’d arrived here on the train, though he wished he wasn’t counting.

He went in the first charity shop that he came to. He’d never bought a present for anyone before, but he wanted to get something for Brody. Something he’ll remember me by. He couldn’t afford to pay more than five pounds because he needed to be sure he’d have enough in the supermarket.

His gaze snagged on a charcoal grey suit hanging behind the till. Armani. Bloody hell. Apart from when he was working on a car, Aden liked to wear nice clothes. He’d stolen most of them from parties and guys’ houses. Not enough for them to get bent out of shape—just shirts or trousers. He’d never owned a suit, never nicked one because he’d never needed one, just admired them in shop windows.

Why do you need one now?

He didn’t, but Aden knew he’d look good in that suit. 

“Can I help you?” asked the dark-haired guy behind the counter. Cute in a flamboyant sort of way. He wore a bright yellow shirt, tight black trousers and had a chip out of one of his front teeth.

“I’m looking for a present,” Aden said. “It’s for a guy who’s mad keen on animals.”

The man clapped his hands. “Great, I love a challenge.” He reached into the counter display case and took out a small silver elephant. “What about this?”

Elephants didn’t forget. Appropriate, but Aden had spotted the ticket. Twenty pounds.

“No thanks.”

“My name’s Nick. What’s yours?”

He wasn’t in the habit of giving his name to people when he shopped, but the guy was just being friendly. “Aden.”

“That means fire. Are you fiery?”

“No.”

“You’re heating me up.” The guy winked. “What about these? Pink cufflinks in the shape of sausage dogs?”

Aden winced. “No.”

Nick crossed the shop and leaned over to get a book from the bottom shelf. Aden was fairly sure the wriggle of his bubble-butt was deliberate. Nick straightened and held out a small book. “Life of insects?”

“No.”

“Oh this might be good.” The guy sashayed across to a stack of pictures leaning against a wall and pulled out a black framed print from the middle. It was an x-ray picture of two seahorses, tails entwined, set against a rippled shell. “Unlike most fish, seahorses are monogamous. They mate for life.”

Aden tensed. He liked the picture, but maybe it wasn’t suitable.

“Cute, aren’t they?” Nick said. “Seahorses are among only a few animal species where the male bears the unborn young. So that one with the big belly is the male.”

Aden raised his eyebrows. “Know anything else about them?”

“Just so happens I do. They prefer to swim in pairs with their tails linked. Sounds like fun, linking tails.” He stepped closer to Aden and Aden stepped away.

“Not many predators eat them because they’re so bony.” The guy licked his lips. “When they mate, it’s done in an eight hour courtship dance that includes spinning around and changing colours. Their personal disco. Not sure I’ve ever managed eight hours but…” He looked Aden up and down. “I’d like to try.”

The guy was wasting his time.

“How much is it?” Aden asked.

“Three quid.”

“I’ll take it, thanks.” Aden would have paid more than that.

“Would you like me to wrap it, if it’s a present? Free of charge.”

“Great. Thanks for all that expert knowledge too.”

“You could take me for a drink to show your appreciation.”

The shop assistant was about the same age as Aden, with smooth skin and green eyes, five inches shorter and heavier built. At one time, Aden would have flirted, got him to reduce the price even more, possibly to nothing and maybe fucked him. Probably fucked him. Instead he smiled and said, “Sorry, no.”

“He’s a lucky guy,” Nick said.

I’m the lucky one. He was. If Brody hadn’t knocked him down, where would he have been now?

“Saw you admiring the suit. It’s just been brought in.”

“Armani. Yeah, it’s…nice.”

“A guy who knows his suits.” Nick groaned. “Sure you’re taken? This one’s only going to fit someone tall and very slim. I’d hardly get my arm in the leg hole.” Nick looked him up and down. “Someone with dark hair, gorgeous eyes and lips made for kissing. You have to try it on.”

Aden laughed. “I can’t afford it.”

“I haven’t priced it up yet. Try it. Take this shirt too. Call trying them on my reward for finding you that print.”

Aden knew there was no point, but he took the clothes into the changing room. Both the shirt and suit fit as though they had been made for him.

“What’s it like?” asked a voice on the other side of the curtain.

“Good, but I don’t have the cash to buy it.”

“Show me.”

The guy pulled back the curtain and stepped inside. Aden reversed up to the mirror.

“You look so hot,” Nick whispered. “You’ve got exactly the right name, fiery guy. I’ve put the closed sign on the door and locked it. Want to fuck me?”

In what world does this happen? As many times as Aden had been propositioned, this stood out as being odd. And green eyes? Familiar green eyes? Shit.

“No thanks.” He reached to push Nick back and found his hand caught tight in an iron grip, more powerful than he’d imagined the guy could manage.

“He won’t know,” Nick whispered. “I’m not going to tell him. I really fancy you. It’s so boring working in here. Fuck me now. Ram your cock in me. Make me scream.”

Nick dragged Aden’s hand to his crotch and Aden wrenched free and shoved him back. “No.”

“If you don’t want to do it now, how about coming to my place? I finish in an hour. I can run you back to wherever you’re staying.”

Aden clamped down on his irritation. “No thanks, Dante.”

The guy widened his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “Damn it. I thought you’d be so easy. Pay for the print. Keep the suit. Make sure you’re wearing it when you die.” He winked.

Aden felt in the pocket of his coat for the money, touched the feathers but only pulled out the note. He handed it over and changed out of the suit and shirt. He wondered what Dante was up to. It annoyed Aden that he was being treated as if his only temptation would be sex. But then was Dante trying to outsmart him by throwing these easy marks, moments for Aden to fall by giving into lust or feeling lust because Dante wanted to keep Aden’s attention away from wondering if Matt was someone Dante was controlling. What more could Matt do?

When Aden emerged, a middle-aged woman stood behind the counter. There was no sign of Dante.

“Let me wrap that for you,” she said. “There’s your change.”

Seventeen pounds sat on the glass next to the gift-wrapped print. Aden was tempted, he really was. He loved that suit, impractical as it was, as annoyed with Dante’s comment as he was.

“I haven’t paid for the suit and shirt,” he said.

“The gentleman that’s just left paid for you. Thirty pounds. Here you go.” She handed a carrier bag to Aden with everything inside.

Aden thought about handing the suit back but he didn’t. Two steps out of the shop, he thought again. Accepting a gift from a demon was not a good idea. But when he turned, the door of the shop was locked and the closed sign hung in the window. Shit.

 

By the time Aden heard Brody at the door, he had everything prepared to cook or already cooked. Tagliatelli with mushrooms, bacon, asparagus, cream and ginger. He’d bumped into Karen as he walked around the supermarket and when she discovered he didn’t have enough money for dessert as well as the bottle of white wine, she’d put a two crème brûlées in her cart and bought them for him.

Aden had trimmed his hair, shaved, and put on the suit. Then he’d taken it off, because who wore a suit to cook a meal, but now he was wearing it again, wondering if Brody would think he was an idiot. Aden picked up the print and stood facing the door.

Brody walked into the kitchen and stopped dead. “Shit. Who are you?”

Aden growled.

“Christ, Aden. What the hell are you wearing? You look…sensational.”

“I got it in a charity shop in Caterham. This too.” Aden handed him the picture.

“It’s not my birthday.” Brody ripped off the paper.

Aden wasn’t going to be around for Brody’s birthday or for Christmas, but maybe this little picture would be.

“Oh fuck, it’s lovely. Sea horses—”

“Dance for eight hours, spin around, link tails and change colour. That sounds okay, but I’m not sure about having to be pregnant.”

Brody put the picture down and pulled Aden into his arms. “Is dinner ready?”

“It can wait.”

“Good, come and make me pregnant.”

Aden smiled.