Dead Feint Page 23
He faced the mirror and struggled to fasten his bow tie. Without success. I took over the task and fixed it in place. “I have to say Mr Quarryman, you sure do look hot in a dinner jacket.”
“Enjoy it while you can, Mr MacGregor. It’s not my favourite mode of dress.”
“Not to worry,” I said, running a hand down his chest. “I can help you take it off later.”
He wrapped his arms around me, a big grin on his face, and pulled me close. “If I didn’t know you better, Mr MacGregor, I’d suspect an ulterior motive.”
“That’s the policeman in you. Always suspicious.”
Enjoying the moment of shared intimacy, I cupped the back of his neck, leaned my head against his shoulder, breathed in his heady scent. And hardened against him.
He chuckled and said, “And now I have the supporting evidence.”
Groaning, I pulled away from him. “Guilty as charged. Though my timing could be better.”
He pressed his lips to mine briefly and murmured, “It will wait.” His grin slowly faded to a look of concern. “You are okay now?”
I pulled a face and nodded. “Getting there.”
“You need to talk about it?”
“Eventually.”
The experiences of the last few days were still too recent, my emotions still too raw. And it wasn’t lost on me that Nathan had gone through hell too. He’s told me later that the rush to Tinkers Wood had been one of the worst moments of his life.
The days following Rusty’s arrest had been a salutary learning experience too. Or maybe more of a wake-up call about my own lack of insight into areas of concern I should have been familiar with. The experience had been demeaning. Not that the confrontation with Rusty hadn’t been traumatic enough. But to learn that I had been used and manipulated for all those months when he’d pretended friendship, made it a thousand times worse. I’d been such a fool not to see the signs, and I was ashamed. It had been a lesson well learned.
The trip to London was a Godsend. For Nathan too. Not so much the award ceremony itself, but the complete break from the horrors at home, and in the company of good friends.
“And Woodside Cottage?” he said. “Are you still happy there?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? I love that place.” I sank onto the end of the bed and leaned down to tie my shoelaces.
Over the past few days, Nathan had helped me remove every last trace of my nightmare house-guest. And Woodside Cottage was beginning to feel like home again.
“I just thought…. After everything that happened.”
I finished tying my laces and looked up again. “I’m not going to let Rusty’s time there spoil it for me.” I shot him a reassuring smile.
“Good.” He visibly relaxed, turned back to the mirror, and fiddled with his bow tie. “Because I spoke with Martha Stubbs the other day. She’s looking to sell the place. She’d be happy to give us first refusal. If we want it.”
I stiffened. “Us?”
“It makes sense really. We live so far apart at the moment. And the cottage would be so much better than my flat.”
“You mean move in together?”
“And it’s such a good location. Beautiful woodland right on the doorstep. And near to the beach.”
“You mean move in together?”
“And I’ve always wanted a dog. It’s not fair to keep one cooped up in a flat. But Woodside Cottage would be ideal.”
“Nathan.” I had to raise my voice to shut him up.
He turned toward me, fell silent and stared down at me for a second or so. And then, “Yes, I mean move in together. What do you say?”
I rose from the bed, blinking back the tears that welled up in my eyes and said, “Are you sure you can put up with me full time?”
“Well, I’ve managed so far.”
“You know how argumentative I can be.”
“How could I fail to notice?”
“And stubborn.”
“Now I’ve got you there. I’m the stubborn one here. I can outdo you on that front any day.”
“And we’ll probably fight a lot.”
“So what’s new?”
Feigning a look of despair, I said, “Okay, let’s do it. If you’re mad enough to go for it, then so am I.” I leaned towards him and sealed the deal with a kiss.
I was still on a high, grinning like an idiot, when we met Lowe and Karen in the foyer.
Karen looked amazing in an emerald-green full-length sequined evening dress that set off the fire in her flame-red hair. Lowe looked uncomfortable in his unaccustomed attire.
We went into the ballroom together to join Jerry at our table.
I smiled at familiar faces and exchanged greetings with others as we threaded our way through the tables. I had to brush aside the occasional enquiry after my wife from those who weren’t too well acquainted with the details of my personal life. But I was in too much of a good mood to let it bother me. And on the whole, it was a pleasure to catch up with old friends.
In anticipation of the awards themselves, the tension in the room underlying the animated chatter was almost tangible.
Jerry had already ordered wine, and a couple of bottles of Veuve Clicquot Brut Champagne were waiting for us. Microphones and a podium were being set up on stage as we enjoyed our meals and once dinner was over and the serving staff had cleared the tables, the room fell into a hush as the ceremony began.
It was a joy to share in the pleasure of friends and colleagues alike as the awards were announced and winners collected their trophies with such obvious delight. Not for a moment had I thought I might be among them. Not that it mattered. Nathan had already made my day. Receiving an award could not have made it any happier.
And so, when ‘Killer Instincts’ was announced as the winner of the Best Documentary Series, I was stunned.
Jerry prodded me in the chest. “Don’t just sit there with your chin on the floor,” he said. “Go get it before they change their minds.”
In a complete daze, I made my way to the stage, applause ringing in my ears, and when I turned towards the sea of expectant faces, I was lost for words.
When I finally found my voice and stumbled through my acceptance speech, spouting out the usual clichéd acknowledgements, thanking producers and production staff, agent, friends and family, I looked over to our table and saw the pride written large on Nathan’s face.
My heart rose in my throat and I faltered.
That’s when it occurred to me that only one cliché mattered, which is, of course, why it’s a cliché in the first place.
And so no more denials. No more fudging and skirting around the issue. It was time to stand my ground and declare myself for who and what I was.
Keeping my eyes on Nathan, I said, “I’m sure you’ve heard it all before at ceremonies like this, but I’m going to say it, anyway. Because it’s important.
“It’s a rare person who achieves individual success without the help and support of that one special person who stands by their side through thick and thin and gives help and succour every step of the way, the one who makes it all worthwhile and without whom that success is meaningless. And so I want to say a big thank you to my own special person, the one whose love and support mean more to me than anything. My partner, Nathan Quarryman.” I raised a hand and held it out towards him. “Thank you, Nathan.”
The wide and generous beaming smile that spread across his face, flushed with embarrassment though he was at the well-deserved applause, was the only response I needed.
Some experiences stay in our memories forever. As this one would for me. Not just for the joy of the occasion itself. But for what it promised. And in Nathan’s rapt expression, I saw the promise of the life that lay ahead of us.
And I knew that I had, at last, found my way home.
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