Nine

Our relationship – or whatever it was in those days – changed imperceptibly after that. I couldn’t quite say how, but I knew when, and it had been after that night in my room. The first night I’d felt turned on by a boy.

After leaping away from Caspien, I’d run to the toilet, opened my shorts, and looked at it. It was unmistakable in that bright overhead light. I was more turned on by a boy than I’d ever been when I kissed my girlfriend.

I didn’t know what to think about that. Though I suppose, as with most things, it was feeling that came first – my body knew what it felt and what it wanted – it was that my head hadn’t caught up yet.

Did I like boys now? Was I gay? Walking backwards through it, I tried to think about what exactly it was that had done it; had it been the play fight? I play-fought with Alfie and Josh all the time, and I’d never, not once, gotten hard from it. Nothing like it.

Had he just rubbed against me in a way that had caused something biological to happen? Had it been the conversation before? What he’d said about it – about sex with a boy – feeling like nothing else on earth. Completely overwhelming; like you might die. But then you don’t, and it’s...well...it’s very good.

I thought about Ellie. I liked kissing her. I’d definitely gotten hard from kissing her before, more than once, which surely meant I liked girls. Which did I like more?

I thought about the need I’d felt just moments before; that hot violent urge I’d had to kiss Caspien when I’d been inches from his mouth. There was no point in lying to myself that I’d ever wanted to kiss Ellie even half as much as that.

I’d returned to the room with our hot chocolate and avoided his eyes as I gave him it. He hadn’t said a word, but I’d felt something change in him.

I’d lain awake on the air bed for most of the night. Rigid, too hot, and very aware of the boy in my bed – a dangerous path because as soon as the thought entered my head, it consumed everything else in there, tearing through it like a forest fire. What would it feel like to go and lie next to him? To feel him go soft and pliant under me, just like he’d done for the man back at the house. The idea of him gripping onto me like that. The idea of him wanting me like that.

It didn’t take long until I was hard again. Uncomfortably so.

Caspien’s reaction to the night in my room was different. The jokes stopped; those suggestive comments he’d thrown at me since I found him on the phone, stopped. He was aloof again, distant again. He was the boy in the big sandals and oversized clothes who looked at me as though I was beneath him, again.

I hadn’t realised it, but somehow, with my eavesdropping and my agreement to ‘play-along’ for Gideon that afternoon, we’d taken some tentative steps close towards what might, under some lights, be considered a friendship.

Now, it was like we’d gone back to the way it had been before. He barely looked at me, he never called and invited me over again, and he never again came to the beach with us (I’d asked him twice more).

I didn’t like it. The awkwardness, the way he was careful not to touch me, the way he was extra careful not to look at me, and I felt ashamed and embarrassed that it was because I’d accidentally gotten hard while play-fighting with him and he knew about it. It did occur to me that this was the perfect sort of attack for him. My interest in him laid bare. And yet, for some reason, he hadn’t used it.

The difference now, though, was that I couldn’t avoid him, not now that we studied together twice a week in Gideon’s library. Caspien wrote lines of meticulous Latin and sketched from photos he’d taken on his phone while I copied Algebra equations from the online coursework site in my rough, sloppy handwriting.

Neither of us had mentioned anything about that night, in fact, we’d deftly avoided making any reference to it whatsoever – the pervert and the conditions I’d imposed on him included – and so I’d almost forgotten all about it altogether when three strange things happened.

The first was this: a Thursday night, a few weeks after the night in my room, Gideon peered into the library to tell Caspien there was a call on the landline for him.

The way Caspien stiffened caught my attention. I knew immediately that it was his pervert. Standing, Caspien avoided my eye and followed Gideon out into the hall. Everything in me wanted to follow him and eavesdrop again, but I turned my attention back to the question in front of me. ‘The inspector thinks Crompton is a lively, cheerful place.’ He doesn’t. My pencil shaded the circle denoting the false statement so hard that the tip broke off.

He came back quicker than I expected, striding into the room less than five minutes later and flopping back down where he was before. I watched him pick up his pencil and scrutinise his drawing like it had insulted him.

If he felt my eyes on him, he pretended he didn’t.

“That was him, wasn’t it?”

“He won’t call again,” he said without looking up. He tilted his head and began to shade.

There was nothing much else I could say to that. I wanted to ask what he told him to be so sure he wouldn’t. Was it that he had to be patient? To wait until a little longer? It was less than two months until his birthday and the thought of what could happen after that made me ill. I wondered who Gideon thought had been on the phone. Who had Caspien told him it was? I guessed that it was lies upon lies, so I kept my mouth shut and went back to my homework.

The second strange thing happened when I turned up on Tuesday evening. Caspien wasn’t in the library, which in itself was weird. He was always there when I arrived, his nose deep in a book or scratching away at his sketchpad, but this time, the room was empty and dark, unused. My first thought was that I’d mixed the days up or forgotten something he’d said about not being here. But then I heard a burst of piano through the wall. I dropped my bag and followed its source down the windowless little corridor to the large music room on the other side.

The room was half dark, and the little picture lights on the walls didn’t stretch far across the massive empty space.

Caspien was at the piano, barefoot and hair wild. His playing was ferocious and angry, banging on the pedal and the keys as though in a fight with them. I glanced around to make sure Gideon wasn’t observing him again, but the room was empty except for us.

I watched from just inside the doorway as he carried the piece through to a devastating, heart-stopping conclusion. When it was over, he stared down at his hands for a long time, almost as long as it took his breathing to return to normal.

I hadn’t moved, had barely even breathed, but something alerted him to my presence and his head snapped around. For half a moment, it looked as though he didn’t recognise me, like I was a total stranger who’d wandered into his house. Something cold and uneasy slithered down my spine.

Then he blinked.

“What are you doing here?” he asked me.

“It’s Tuesday.”

He blinked again. “Is it?”

His face looked pale in the dim light of the room, and even from here, I could see faint, dark circles beneath his eyes. I hadn’t seen him since Thursday – this wasn’t unusual. If I was helping Luke with the garden maintenance, then sometimes I’d see him on Saturday or Sunday around the estate or in the house – but I’d been at the cinema with Ellie on Saturday, and on Sunday, I’d met up with the boys to play football in Harris Field.

I went towards him and he stood from the piano stool, scrubbing a hand over his face and through his hair which looked unwashed. My unease grew.

“Where’s Gideon?”

“How should I know?” he snapped.

“Is something the matter?” I asked, carefully.

“What exactly would be the matter?” From here, his eyes looked dull and muddied like dirty sea water. “Go home.” He moved past me, but I turned to go after him, reaching out a hand to tug him back by his elbow.

“Caspien, what’s going on?”

“Piss off, Judith.” He yanked hard, and I released him, and then he was charging away from me.

Something was very clearly wrong, but I had no clue what. Had no clue what to do. Where was Gideon? I let Caspien go and set about the house, looking for him. His study was empty. The downstairs reception rooms were dark, cold, and unlit.

It looked like the kitchen hadn’t been used tonight at all. Where was Elspeth? Gideon’s housekeeper was usually here most weeknights, pottering away in the kitchen or dusting the downstairs knickknacks.

Luke had a mobile number for Gideon but did I want to worry everyone when I didn’t even know what was wrong.

Despite how he looked, this behaviour wasn’t entirely abnormal for him. I knew fine well, he could be moody and awful. Perhaps, this was just one of those times. I’d forgotten he could be like this.

After checking the arboretum and the front patios to find no sign of Gideon, I went outside to see what cars were in the back. Gideon drove a Jaguar, a silver XE saloon that wasn’t parked outside, so he must be out. There were none there at all. Which, for some reason, I hadn’t even noticed on the way in.

I took the stairs up to the bedrooms two at a time. The upstairs was a square mezzanine with doors and corridors leading off it in several directions. I’d never been up here, so of course, I went the wrong way. Down a wide hallway, I opened the door to a gallery room, a few unused bedrooms – dust sheets covering the furniture inside – and turned to find a whole wing cordoned off by a large wooden folding screen. Behind it was dark and unlit, and so I figured neither Caspien nor Gideon’s bedrooms would be beyond it. The first set of locked doors I came to on the other side of the staircase, I decided, had to be Gideon’s bedroom.

I hammered again anyway. When there was no answer, I went further down the hall. A few more doors were locked, and I did the same here. A few bedrooms weren’t locked but looked and smelled unused – cold, dark rooms that hadn’t been occupied in months if not years.

The door at the furthest end was slightly open, light spilling into the hall. I knew it would be Caspien’s room; the angle of it would have a view over to the cottage, and the closer I got to it, the closer I felt to him. For the briefest moment before I stepped inside, I was terrified at what I’d find. I was terrified he’d hurt himself, that I’d find him covered in blood or worse. I held my breath as I pushed open the door and stepped inside.

A large ornate bed sat in the centre of the room. Not pushed against the wall as most beds were, but right in the centre. Two large antique lamps stood like sentinels on either side of the large bed. Books sat in piles on either side of it, as though unpacked from boxes and just abandoned there. A large fireplace on one end was lined with trophies and plaques; some in the shape of horses, others shaped into tennis racquets and balls, and some a little figure with a sword.

At the foot of the huge bed on a wooden ottoman were stacks of what looked like sketch pads, trays of pencils, and a small Philodendron next to it. Taped around the walls were pages from those sketchpads, random compositions, some of which looked half-finished. Next to those were pages of what looked like music. It was like a great wind had scattered everything in the room, and no one had bothered to tidy it.

Caspien lay on his side in the centre of the bed. His back was to me, so I couldn’t tell if his eyes were closed or not.

“Caspien,” I said.

“I told you to go home.”

I ignored that and came closer. “Where’s Gideon?” I asked.

He said he hadn’t known downstairs, but I didn’t believe for a moment that Gideon would leave without telling him where he’d gone. Gideon was eccentric and strange, but he wasn’t completely irresponsible.

“With his newest whore I’d imagine,” Caspien said, sounding tired.

“Where’s Elspeth?”

“Visiting Family in Norfolk.”

Gideon had left him alone without a soul to look over him? Rage bubbled under my skin. When I got to the side of the bed, I looked down at him. He looked small there in the huge bed, small and very young. I had the urge to climb in next to him and put my arms around him.

“Did something happen?” I asked gently.

“No.”

There was a bone-deep fear in my body that I didn’t understand. I wanted to help him, protect him, fix whatever it was making him act like this, but I was scared too.

“I’m going to call Luke,” I said and went to move from the bed.

“Please, don’t.” His voice was small but fierce.

Gingerly, I sat back down on the bed and shifted across it so I was closer to him.

“Then tell me what’s wrong...” I left it hanging there a moment before I added. “I thought we were friends?”

I expected him to laugh at that. Throw it back in my face and say something mean. Instead, he just said, “You’re only here because Luke asked you to be. Or because you feel sorry for me. I can’t decide which is worse.” That’s not what I feel for you. “No. That’s not true.”

He scoffed. “No? Come on, Jude, we both know if it were down to you, then you’d be with your real friends or your girlfriend.”

I thought about that – not about how bizarre it was that he was saying it – but about whether it was true. Did I come here under duress? Would I rather be with Alfie and Josh right now? Or Ellie? I shook my head even though he couldn’t see it.

“Maybe at first. But not now.”

He unfurled himself and turned to look at me, studying me, checking the validity of my claim.“Really?”

The frown smoothed away a little and some light came on in his eyes, and I was drawn like a moth to it. I was responsible for putting that light there. It was a heady feeling.

“No.” I smiled. “I’m here because I want to be, Cas.” It was the first time I’d ever used the nickname. The one I’d never been given permission to use. I prepared myself for the light in his eye to go out. Instead, he surged forward and wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug. It stole my breath and put me into some kind of shock.

Caspien was pressed against me. Of his own volition.

When he buried his face in my neck and took a deep breath, I felt a tremor move through my entire body. He was solid and close. So close. To be this close to him was absurd. For him to be clinging to me like this was so outside of normal that it only compounded the fact that something was very, very wrong with him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against my ear. I was so beguiled that I didn’t even think about what he might be apologising for. A moment later, he pulled back and wiped his face.

My hands hung loose and useless at my sides.

“When did you last eat?” I asked in a strange voice.

He was avoiding my eyes now like he was embarrassed. “I can’t remember...”

“I’m going to go downstairs and make you a sandwich. Will you stay here?”

He gave me a look like maybe he didn’t want me to leave, but then slid backwards against the headboard and nodded.

“I won’t be long,” I told him and stood.

By the door I looked at him over my shoulder before bolting downstairs to the library where I’d left my bag and my mobile. My finger hovered over Luke’s number. Everything in me wanted to call him. I didn’t know what was wrong with Caspien or whether a sandwich was going to fix it, and my instinct in most situations was to call Luke. But then I heard his voice – soft and pleading – ‘please don’t’ and I stopped.

I slid my phone back into my bag and went to the kitchen.

I threw together a cheese and ham sandwich, poured a glass of cold orange juice, and carried it upstairs. Caspien was asleep, curled toward me this time so I could see his eyes were closed.

I sat down on the bed and watched him for a full minute, wondering if he was faking it, though I’d no idea why he would. He looked young while he slept. Small and wisp-like. There was no hint of the viperous, sharp-tongued boy he was when conscious.

Another of those weird protective flares lit up inside me.

Through the open window, I heard the sound of a car and I set the sandwich and orange juice down by the bed and went to look outside.

Gideon’s silver Jaguar was pulling into the courtyard, crunching over the gravel. I bolted downstairs. He took too long to get out, but when he did, he was typing something on his phone and didn’t notice me standing by the back door. He went to the boot and retrieved a bunch of designer shopping bags from it. He was almost upon me before he glanced up and saw me.

I saw it happen. The transformation in his face. A dark, cruel look lifting from his eyes, and another, softer – more familiar – look settling over it.

“Young Jude! How’s things? Keeping Caspien out of trouble, I hope.”

“Where were you?” I snapped before I could stop myself.

Gideon halted, staring at me. “Pardon?”

“There’s something wrong with him,” I said. “I got here and he was acting strange and didn’t know what day it was. He hasn’t eaten. He looks ill.”

There was no reaction on Gideon’s face at first; he looked stunned. But then he rushed forward and passed me into the house. I followed him upstairs to Caspien’s bedroom, where he went straight to the bed where Cas was still asleep.

He sat the shopping bags down by the bed and perched on the side of it, reaching out to brush Caspien’s hair off his head.

“I had to go to London last minute for some urgent business I had to attend to in person.” He smoothed an elegant hand over Caspien’s cheek.

“Why didn’t you tell us? We would have kept an eye on him?”

Gideon looked over his shoulder at me. “I did. I left a message on Luke’s mobile – I don’t like doing it – he’s not a babysitter, but because Elspeth has the week off, I didn’t like the idea of him being completely alone. Didn’t he receive it?”

Luke was responsible and always checked his texts and messages. I shook my head, confused. Then it hit me.

“Luke switched phones this week.”

“Ah, that’ll be it.” He looked back at Caspien and made a soft noise at the back of his throat. “He is so self-sufficient and yet somehow completely unable to look after himself.”

I wanted to say that he was fifteen. I didn’t think he was expected to look after himself.

Gideon stood, lifted the bags and ushered me with him out of the room.

“He doesn’t sleep well at the best of times, so I think knowing you were here has settled him. He must be exhausted.”

I didn’t like this. Any of it. Didn’t Gideon think to call the cottage when he didn’t hear back from Luke? I felt angry and sick and I wanted to scream at him that Caspien needed someone who cared about him properly.

“What about his tutor? Wasn’t he here today?”

Gideon gently closed the door to Caspien’s room. “Oh, well. He quit. Quite suddenly actually – some personal issue back home, a bereavement, I think – so we are in-between. I am searching for a replacement now to get us to the end of the school year. Next year will be another issue. Perhaps even Kingsland would be suitable.”

My mouth fell open. Caspien at Kingsland. At my school. The thought was terrifying. I’d see him every day. We’d likely travel to and from school together. We’d definitely have subjects together. It would be either the best or the worst thing to happen since we drove up to Deveraux House at the start of summer.

“Thank you for looking after him, Jude. I’m eternally grateful.”

“I didn’t do anything...” I made a sandwich and poured some juice. Neither of which he’d touched.

“No, I know that’s not true. It would have meant a lot to have you here.” Gideon gave me a look. “You’re important to him, Jude. I hope you know that.”

I could only stare back at him. Important to Caspien? I doubted that very much. But tonight had felt different. Very different. My mind was stuck on the way he’d clung to me. Needy and soft, like I was important. How he’d felt in my arms. How vulnerable he’d sounded when he’d asked if I really came to see him because I wanted to. I liked that feeling a lot.

Maybe since I’d never felt that important to anyone, not since my parents died, not really. And for Caspien to be the one to make me feel like that was as inconceivable as it was shocking.