The Tied Man
He wore the same jeans and nearly-white t-shirt that he had worn on the day he made his move on me, and I realised that his own wardrobe consisted of about half-a-dozen items. I had merely swapped my sweat-soaked track pants and t-shirt for a clean set, and put in my brown contact lenses: my disguise when venturing out into the world. Only Henry had dressed for the occasion. In his cream chinos and mauve gingham shirt, he looked like he was going to spend an afternoon at his country club.
*****
The stares started as Henry tied our boat to the moorings. Two women talking on the jetty fell silent as we stepped ashore, and a cluster of young men, lolling on a bench overlooking the lake, gawped with affected slack-jawed indifference. In their sorry collection of stonewashed jeans and tracksuits that had never seen a second’s physical exertion, they made me look well-dressed.
‘God, it’s like fucking Deliverance.’ As we walked past the bench, its inhabitants passed whispered, giggling comments behind their hands. I just about made out ‘faggot’ and ‘gimp’ in their highly imaginative barrage of abuse.
‘Coyle’s cronies,’ Henry explained. ‘So called ‘Security’ and general maintenance. You get used to it.’
‘I sincerely hope I don’t. How much do they know?’
Finn glanced back at the gathering. ‘Just enough to stir up random shit as a hobby. They’ve got me pinned as some fuckin’ gay house pet. The rest they make up amongst themselves, with a few well-placed suggestions from Coyle.’
I was glad when we turned a corner that hid us from their sightlines. ‘Isn’t she worried that they might say something? I mean, outside this place?’
‘One did, once. Said to his cousin that he reckoned Blaine must be some kinda nymphomaniac on account of all the visitors she was getting. Just jokin’ on, really.’
‘And?’
‘Coyle had a little chat with him. Now his mother visits him every week and on a good day he recognises her.’ He kept walking, head down against the fading catcalls. ‘Anyway, they all know they’ve got it good. Hanging around the village and indulging in a little paid thuggery to pass the time.’
‘Yeah, I can’t really see them making it big in the city,’ I agreed. ‘So. What now?’
‘We trawl around the village, Henry loads me up like a cart horse, then we go back before Blaine unleashes hell because we’re out after curfew.’
‘Right. No offence Henry, but I really don’t fancy wasting my precious freedom hunting down organic kohlrabi. Is it all right if I meet you back here in an hour?’ I asked.
‘Better off breaking your car out of the compound then driving like the hounds of hell are trying to gnaw on your exhaust,’ Finn replied, before Henry could open his mouth.
I rolled my eyes. ‘Better off not tempting me. I’d like my brother’s school trips to go ahead without the need for an ambulance.’
*****
Anonymous and unrecognised, I spent my hour wandering aimlessly around the village of Albermarle.
The well-scrubbed families that inhabited the holiday cottages infested the street. I picked up snatches of conversation about what they might do for dinner – eat at that nice if slightly pricey restaurant or have a barbecue? – where they might go if it rained tomorrow; what exciting tales of windsurfing and fishing they would tell Grandad when they emailed him later that day.
It was as if I was observing them from behind the same screen that had separated me from Finn the night before. I could see them, but they were so far removed from my life that they could have been from a distant planet.
I drifted in and out of the tasteful, expensive shops like a wraith, not even looking at the merchandise as memories of the previous night ran through my head in a continuous, sick loop. Eventually I gave up and began a slow stroll back to the meeting point just as the sun disappeared behind a bank of grey cloud and the temperature dropped by ten degrees. In Santa Marita, the pavement, the trees, the air itself would have held onto the warmth so that it stayed wrapped around me like a cloak long after the sun vanished. Homesickness hit me like a punch to the stomach and I looked forward to my rendezvous with Henry and Finn, the only people in the world who might understand.
By the time I caught up with them, they were weighed down under shopping, Henry managing four bags and Finn appearing to have at least ten. I knew then that I wasn’t ready to go back. I wanted a few hours away from Albermarle Hall in the same way I craved company and normality when I finished a piece in Santa Marita.