DANNY 1.0: Hope House - Part 4

DANNY 1.0 – Hope House

Part 4

Smashwords Edition

Chancery Stone

Copyright Chancery Stone 2014

FIFTY-NINE

Stephen didn't see much of Danny during the weekend; he was working with John mostly. When he did see him he seemed quiet and self absorbed. He looked like someone with a hangover, or who wasn't getting enough sleep. John was taciturn and silent too, hardly talking to anybody but Danny, and only communicating with him by odd little nods and gestures.

Ian ignored him which pleased Stephen just fine. Rab was silent when John and Danny were around but fine the rest of the time. His mum didn't come in Sundays, but he didn't miss her.

On Monday the snow started again. Rab looked out the window and said, Maybe we'll have a white Christmas.

"Only six more shopping days to go," Stephen trilled in a sweet falsetto.

Jesus, is it? And I haven't bought a thing. He clutched his brow dramatically.

Stephen laughed. Don't you buy each other anything then?

Rab snorted. You must be joking. Margaret used to buy everybody presents. This year we'll get zilch.

Bit dismal, Stephen suggested.

Rab shrugged. Who needs it? We'll get a good dinner though. Your mum's going to provide it.

Really? Stephen looked up, surprised.

Really. John fixed it up with her. I assume you're staying?

John hasn't said.

Then you are. Your mum's cooking it, isn't she? Consider yourself invited. You work here, food provided. You're entitled. John's just taken it for read.

Stephen smiled. As long as John says it's okay.

He will.

Ask him first, Rab, promise.

Rab looked at him. Relax. I'll ask him, okay?

John came into the kitchen. Rab promptly said, Stephen's staying for Christmas Day, okay?

John grunted, frowning, What the fuck are you asking me for? And he walked over to the teapot.

Rab grinned at Stephen. Stephen grinned back.

John sat down and said without looking up, Give Danny a hand with the hen house, will you Stephen? That run's a fucking disaster. The fence looks like it's held together with spit.

Stephen said, Sure.

John turned his attention to Rab and began outlining his proposed shelving of the interior of the implement shed. They lapsed into a discussion on lengths of wood. Stephen poured himself another cup of tea and watched the snow.

It took them all morning and the best part of an afternoon. By the time they were finished they were filthy-dusty and tired. Danny rubbed his neck and said, Let's go have a cup of tea, we missed this morning's.

You've got shit on your nose.

Danny grimaced and wiped it off, holding his face up for inspection. Okay?

No, bit there.

Where?

No, to the left... no, there.

Oh for Christsake, get it off me, Danny exclaimed.

Stephen used his sleeve, rubbing it off. Danny looked at him for approval.

Stephen smiled back and nodded.

They went into the kitchen. Danny opened the cooker door and pulled a chair up. My hands are so cold I can hardly feel anything. He put a kettle on then sat down.

Stephen pulled a chair up beside him. They held their feet up to the fire.

He glanced at Danny. He was slumped down in the chair, head on the back, eyes closed. There was something hypnotic about his face. If you got to looking at it, you kept looking at it, like holding a stone up to the light, watching it sparkle. You've got a nice face, he said quietly.

Danny opened his eyes almost with a jerk. Pack that in. His voice was tight, angry.

Stephen looked at him, the surprise plain on his face. What had he said?

Danny ran his hand through his hair and muttered, Sorry.

Stephen said nothing. Danny sat up. Look, I said I'm sorry.

Forget it.

Oh come on... He stopped then said, Look I am terribly, genuinely, bottom of my heart sorry. He smiled at him. Okay?

Stephen said, Okay. But it wasn't really.

Danny settled back down again. They were silent. Gradually the kettle came to the boil. Shit, Danny grumbled.

I'll get it. Stephen stood up.

Danny opened his eyes and smiled lazily at him.

Stephen smiled back and went to fill the teapot.

Bring it over here. Put it on the back of the plate there.

Stephen did, sat down again. Danny, about last Thursday... He glanced quickly at him, watching for another abrupt change of mood, but Danny looked just the same, perfectly placid.

Mm?

You took me along just because you didn't know what else to do with me, didn't you?

Danny opened his eyes, fixed him with them. He wasn't smiling. I took you because I thought you'd enjoy it, because it was better than bursting a Durex behind a toilet somewhere with some stupid little slag you don't even fancy, that's why I took you. I'm sorry if it was miserable for you.

Stephen swallowed, opened his mouth, shut it again then said, No, it wasn't, honestly. He shook his head. It wasn't. He looked away. It was good. I just thought maybe I'd been a gooseberry, you know?

Danny laughed. Well you weren't. If anybody was the gooseberry it was me.

Stephen stared into the small bright square of the fire, trying to understand that, then said, "Did you like it?"

Mm hmm. Danny's voice was deep and sleepy.

Stephen felt something slow turn over in his stomach All of it? He breathed it out, still not looking at him.

There was a faint pause this time. Stephen waited, heart thumping, then Danny said in the same slow, sleepy voice, Mm hmm.

So did I. Stephen almost whispered it.

Good. And Stephen could hear the smile in his voice. Now why don't you pour the fucking tea?

Stephen laughed and got up and poured the tea.

The snow got heavier and the wind picked up. By evening it was almost gale force.

John and Rab went out to check the livestock, Ian to secure things in the yard. Stephen and Danny were left with the washing up. Better than being out in it, Danny said, watching it slide down the window. It'll lie, he added.

Think so? Stephen peered out between his hands. Danny nodded.

They finished up and the lights went out.

Classic, Danny announced into the dark.

Shit, it's dark, Stephen whispered. There was a crash, Stephen swore.

What was that? Danny asked.

Chair, I think.

Where are you?

Stephen laughed nervously. Fuck knows.

Danny reached out towards his voice. Talk to me.

Come in, Red-four, come in.

Danny caught his arm. Stephen hung on to him, doing another one of those nervous laughs.

The shipwrecked waifs cling in the storm, Danny said. I wonder where the lamps are?

Where are they usually?

I don't know.

They both laughed this time. It was a moonless night and the dark was very intense, like being blind. A faint red line showed around the cooker door.

Poor Ian, it'll take him half an hour to find his way back. He'll probably end up in the back field.

They laughed again. Danny was aware that they were becoming faintly hysterical but he couldn't seem to stop it.

Christ, it's dark, isn't it? Stephen's voice was awed.

Like ink, Steve o, like ink.

It feels like the room's huge, doesn't it?

No walls, Danny agreed.

They held each other a little tighter.

We can't stand here like babes in the fucking wood all night, Danny said. Let's try for the living-room. The fire will give us a bit of light.

You lead, I'll follow.

Hang onto my shirt tail.

Stephen took a fistful of Danny's shirt and let himself be led. They walked into another chair and the edge of a counter before they made it to the door. They knew they were in the hall by the rush of cold air but otherwise it seemed exactly the same.

Jesus, this is creepy, Danny said. He found the side of the staircase and followed it along. They bumped into the hall table. Fuck, he cursed.

Then the phone rang. They grabbed each other. Danny pushed him off. It's only the fucking phone.

It rang on, loud and insistent. Danny groped on the table for it, knocked off the receiver, swore again, and finally succeeded in picking it up. Hello?

There was a silence at the end of the line. Hello? Danny said again. The silence crawled inside him like a slow death.

Stephen held his arm, hissed, Who is it? He could sense Danny's fear like it was something tangible, a primeval instinct.

Who the fuck is this? Danny said.

The phone cut dead. The purring was worse. Danny put the receiver back down quickly, pulled Stephen's arm in against him. Stephen said, What is it?

Nothing, given myself the willies, that's all. He laughed unsteadily.

Who was it?

Fuck knows. Wrong number, weirdo, who knows? Danny pushed him away again. Come on.

They passed the terrifying openness of the stairs, then the worse gap where the hall turned into the front parlour. They could see the glass door now, very faintly golden. Salvation, Danny said. He opened the door.

Come on, let's open this fire. He did it himself, sure footed now in the faint light. He could make out dim shapes of furniture. There, sit down. He pushed Stephen back onto the settee, sat down beside him then laughed, obviously shaken. Jesus, that phone really put the shit up me. He laughed some more.

The fire began to glow brighter. Stephen looked at him, desperate to see something he recognised. He could only make him out dimly, the dark holes of his eyes, the white of his face. Me too, he confessed.

They were sitting close together, thighs touching. Stephen felt the sudden warmth of it, safe here in the light, no longer blinded, laughing about it, chasing away the demons. The fire glowed up bright, filled with heat. Stephen looked at him. Danny?

Danny was thinking about the phone call, his mind jumping with it. Mm? He looked at him suddenly, as if he'd just remembered him.

Can I ask you something?

He nodded vaguely.

You ever do it with another boy?

There was a small silence then Danny laughed, properly this time.

Why are you laughing? I'm serious.

Sorry, Danny coughed. It just struck me as funny. Why do you want to know?

Just wondered. Stephen looked into the fire.

Yes, Danny said.

Stephen looked at him, searching his face. Really?

Danny nodded.

When?

When? That's an odd question. Tell me why you want to know.

I told you, I'm just curious.

As to when?

No, I just mean if you'd ever done it, that's all.

"Have you?" Danny asked, already knowing the answer, suspecting that's what this was all about.

Once.

Danny nodded. And did you enjoy it?

Stephen hadn't expected the question, couldn't seem to understand it. Enjoy it? No, of course not.

Why did you do it then?

I was drunk, he said as if that must be self evident. There was a silence then he said slowly, as if he'd never thought of it before, Did you enjoy it then?

Of course.

Stephen stared at him. He thought he saw Danny's mouth quirk in the dull light. You're taking the piss.

I'm not.

Seriously? You really liked it?

Yep.

How old were you?

Ah, here we were, back at when. Old enough... Danny looked at him, Stephen could feel him looking at him, ... to know what I was doing.

Stephen blushed, hoped Danny couldn't see it. You ever wanted to... well, you know, do it again? He looked away again.

Why? Do you want another try? He felt Stephen's shock, felt him move his leg away from his.

Don't be funny, Danny.

Danny said nothing. Slowly the leg relaxed against his again, softly, like something melting. There was a long silence. The fire grew steadily brighter, flames flickering. Danny's face seemed to dance in it.

Would you ever do it again? Stephen asked.

If I fancied whoever was offering.

"Fancied…? Stephen tried again, lowering his voice. If you fancied... what, a bloke? D'you mean a bloke?"

That's what we're talking about, isn't it?

Stephen stared at him. Danny wasn't looking at him. He seemed perfectly relaxed, even disinterested. He was watching the flames.

Did you fancy the bloke you did it with then?

Danny said, I thought so... at the time.

Stephen wet his lips and said, What was he like?

Danny turned this time. What was yours?

Stephen looked at him then blushed and looked away. He was silent for a long time before he said again, Danny?

Mm?

I was old enough to know what I was doing too.

Mm? Danny prompted.

I feel really bad about it sometimes.

Don't, Danny said flatly. Do it, forget it. That's the motto.

But don't you think it's a bit sick, that? It's not exactly normal, is it?

What's normal? No one's normal. Normal's bullshit.

Stephen didn't know how to answer that but he felt better. Danny didn't disapprove, didn't even seem to mind, and he'd done it too. He said, I liked it much better with her... you know, your girlfriend.

Danny laughed, said nothing.

Stephen smiled. He leaned his head back beside his on the settee and turned to look at Danny's profile. What thick eyelashes he had. He said, Your hair looks like tarry blood in this light.

Danny smiled slightly. You're a poet, Steve o.

Stephen laughed, pleased. You ought to get your ear pierced.

Get stuffed.

No, seriously.

Danny turned his head and looked at him. They were suddenly very close, their faces near enough to kiss. Stephen blinked, felt his heart stop. Danny moved his head towards him...

Then sat up. I wonder where Ian's got to. He should have made it back by now.

Stephen lay there feeling his heart thumping. His face was flushed with heat. He was painfully, intensely aware of the stirring in his belly. He felt excited, disappointed and sick at once. He swallowed, his mouth full of saliva.

Danny stretched and stood up. Stephen watched him silhouetted against the fire. He felt suddenly heavy, drowsy, unable to move. He wanted Danny to sit back down, not be so fucking energetic. He was afraid Danny was going to dash off and look for Ian.

Danny turned and looked at him. Stephen looked back, willing him.

Danny sat back down.

Stephen sighed. He was further away now, but still there.

Danny put his arms behind his head. Poor John, stuck out in that, he said.

Stephen grunted. He didn't care about John. He wished Danny would sit close again. He was sleepy. He felt envious of John sharing with him, curling up beside him in bed.

He suddenly felt a cold trickle of something run through his head. He chased it. He didn't want to look at it. He wanted to go on being warm, comfortable: no worries, no guilt. He heard himself say, Did you kiss him?

Who?

Stephen heard the sudden tenseness in his voice, wondered if he was overstepping the mark. The bloke you did it with.

No, Danny said, and Stephen could hear it now, the flat anger.

Sorry, he offered. I'm bugging you.

No, Danny said. It's alright. But Stephen knew he had been.

Think Ian's alright? he asked, not caring a monkey's, but he asked anyway.

With any luck he's fallen into something.

Stephen laughed. Danny looked at him, smiled. It was okay, they were friends again. It's nice here like this, isn't it? Stephen said, looking at the fire.

Mm, Danny agreed.

Cosy.

You're a romantic, Steve.

Me? Stephen looked at him, surprised.

Yes, you.

No, I'm not. He was faintly outraged by the suggestion.

Danny laughed. Yes, you are, an out and out romantic.

Rubbish.

Danny laughed again, quietly, then lunged at him, tickling him fiercely.

Stephen shrieked, unprepared for the attack. He grabbed at Danny's hands, flailing helplessly. They rolled off the couch in a tangle, thumping down painfully onto the floor, but Danny went on tickling, relentless.

Stephen finally begged him to stop. Danny heard the panicked pain in his voice and let him go. They lay there side by side on the hearth rug, panting with exertion. You bastard, Stephen gasped, half laughing, half agonised.

Danny laughed, choked on it, coughing violently, then subsided onto the floor again.

Stephen dragged himself up onto one elbow to look down into Danny's face. Danny lay there, eyes closed, chest rising and falling evenly, still breathing heavily from the skirmish. His hands were folded on his stomach. His face was bright, incandescent with the fire. Stephen lifted his hand and slowly brought his fingers close to Danny's mouth.

Danny's eyes opened suddenly. Don't, he said sharply.

Stephen dropped his hand, swallowing, suddenly outrageously close to tears. I wasn't going to do anything.

I know, Danny said and his voice was soft. That made it worse. Stephen could feel his mouth trembling. He lay back down quickly, biting his lip, berating himself. Don't you dare, don't you dare.

Then the lights came back on.

Danny got up without looking at him and said, I'm just going to see where Ian's got to.

Stephen said nothing.

When Danny left the room he got up into a sitting position. He could feel the lump in his throat as if something was wedged there. He swallowed, but it didn't go away. All it did was make it hurt.

He dropped his head on his knees and for the second time in so many weeks felt the tears, slowly, and for absolutely no reason, start to run down his face.

Danny's front was thick with snow in the short distance it took to cover the space between the house and the milking shed. The lights were on inside. "Ian?!" he shouted, sliding the door shut.

Here, Ian answered right beside him, making him jump.

What the hell are you doing lurking in here?

I came in out the snow to await your imminent rescue, then I remembered there was a lamp in here. He jerked his head at the wall. Then I realised I had no bloody matches anyway. He smiled. But by then the lights had come on, so what did it matter?

Danny looked him up and down curiously. Is everything okay?

Fine, Ian smiled.

Then why the fuck are we standing out here? Why didn't you come back in?

I wanted to talk to you… without the little shithead in tow.

Danny put his hands on the aluminium guard rail. He's not a little shithead. He gave him a hard look. And don't start messing with him. He told me about you showing him the photographs.

It's Rab that likes lookalikes, Danny, not me.

Danny started sliding his hand to and fro on the rail restlessly. Say it, whatever it is, and let's get back inside.

Ian kept silent until Danny was forced to look at him then he said, He's got a crush on you.

Danny rubbed his face irritably, as if something had bitten him. Bullshit.

Don't be so sure.

Danny put both hands back on the rail, arms braced, then dropped his head, looking over his arm at him. Look, what's it to you?

Nothing. I just wonder, how long are you going to be able to resist?

Danny stared at him, arms rigid, knuckles white on the bar. "It isn't any problem. It isn't ever going to be any problem."

"Someone drooling over you, right in front of your eyes, every day? Come on. You get so fucking turned on at other people's want, you can get your little penis into white out just thinking about it."

Shut up.

Ian was smiling thickly now, one on top of the other. "Fuck, he wants you to do it, even if he doesn't know it himself yet, and you're pushing him away. Remind you of anyone?" And now his face was bright with it.

I said, shut up. And Danny dropped his arms, stood there loose, waiting.

Ian held up his hands. Uh-uh. Not me. Not my scene. He paused then whispered, Want me to take him off your hands?

Danny stood there for a moment, blinking, feeling an intense sinking déjà vu.

Mm? Ian's persistent whisper, close to his head.

Danny looked down at his hands. They were clenching gently at his sides as if he were kneading fur or thick velvet. You've done this before, he said. His voice had no substance. He looked up slowly into Ian's face. Ian simply smiled.

Danny looked round. In here? No, this wasn't built. The tractor shed… or was it the old Dutch barn?

Ian rubbed his own cheek, flat palmed, half smiling, lips parted, watching him.

Danny moved closer. Did you use those very same words? Was it? Word for word? And Danny grabbed him, pulling him up close.

Ian pounced on his mouth, dragging his head towards him, pushing his tongue in.

Danny shoved him off, scrubbing at his mouth. Christ, you're low. Unbelievably... but he couldn't finish it. You leave him alone, he said, backing away from him, moving sideways towards the door.

And he pulled the door open and disappeared into the snow.

When Danny got back into the house Stephen had disappeared from the living-room, assumably gone to his room. He wondered if he should follow him but decided to leave it. He was probably sulking or feeling sorry for himself. Danny could cope with neither.

John and Rab came back in, blue with cold, their clothes running with melting snow. The air was thick with curses, the dog running wet round the room. Put the kettle on, John said.

Danny did it while they pulled off coats and boots. The power was off, he said. You just missed it.

John grunted, I know. The whole village was out. We saw it coming in. He grunted again, pulling another boot off. Where's Ian?

Still outside somewhere. He was in the milking shed five minutes ago.

Doing what? Jerking off to increase the yield?

Danny saw Rab smirking across the table at him. Probably.

The kettle boiled. Danny made tea and sat back down again.

Where's Stephen? Rab asked.

Upstairs I think.

John looked up at him briefly then away again. There was a small silence then Ian came in.

Where are the lamps these days? Danny asked him.

Under the stairs, where they've always been.

Be nice to be told. We had to sit in the dark like a right pair of tits.

Plenty to do in the dark.

There was another silence. It was John who broke it. Meaning what? he asked Ian, but he was looking at Danny.

Just an observation, Ian said. He sat down and pulled the teapot over, helping himself to the first cup.

John kept looking at Danny. Danny was staring at Ian, mouth tight. Rab sat there, head cocked to one side, running his finger along the table, back again, listening.

John poured tea for himself. Only Rab and Danny, sitting facing each other, remained motionless. The clock's ticking seemed intolerably loud. The dog sat up suddenly and scratched, subsided before the cooker again.

John stood up abruptly, taking his mug with him, and crossed the room. Danny, he commanded as he got to the door.

Danny wanted to say, What? just to piss him off, but he got up and followed him out. Ian smiled at his disappearing back.

As soon as they were out the room Rab said without looking at him, You little turd.

Boo-hoo, I'm hurted.

Rab leaned across suddenly and grabbed the mug out of his hand just as he was lifting it to his mouth. He turned it upside down in Ian's lap. Ian yelled as the scalding tea soaked through his jeans.

Big fucking wet dream, Ian. And he banged the empty mug down and went out.

John pulled Danny down beside him on the settee. He had the television on, up loud, no lights. What was he getting at?

You know what he was getting at.

What goes on with you and the boy?

Nothing and he knows it.

Nothing on your part maybe. You think I'm blind? He thinks the sun shines out your arse.

So? What am I supposed to do about it?

Stop encouraging him.

I don't encourage him.

"Then discourage him."

Danny was silent.

You hear me, Danny? John pulled his face round. I'm sick of him trailing round after you.

Then why the fuck do you keep shoving us together?

John held him a moment, face angry, then let him go.

Look, just give it a break for a while. Put me with Rab or something.

John turned on him. Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you? What's wrong, kid's blind adoration not enough for you?

Danny rubbed his face. Oh for fuck's sake, John...

"I bet you'd like that."

Listen... Danny sat forward, half round to face him. I don't want to go anywhere with any of them. Not him, not Rab, not Ian… and not you, he wanted to add. They're all a pain in the fucking arse, but believe me, he's the best of the bunch. At least he isn't always trying to stick his hand down my pants.

John made a small noise of disgust. Yeah, right.

Jesus, John, he's only fifteen. The idea hasn't even occurred to him.

I don't believe I'm hearing this. He was playing cocksuckers with Rab in the back seat of a car not three weeks ago. He's probably been fucking since he was ten and sucking dick since he was twelve.

Christ, John, what do you think this is, the re enactment of your life?

John slapped him. You dirty mouthed little shit. Why don't you keep your trap shut?

Danny got up and sat in the armchair, away from him.

John glared at him. Get back here.

Fuck off.

John lunged up but Danny was faster, half ready for it. He went over the chair arm and put the settee between them. "Fucking leave it, John. I'm sick of you thumping me about."

Danny... John growled it, low, imperative, like warning a dog.

No.

I'm gonna mark you, Danny…

If you even try I'm going to yell the fucking place down, then you can explain that to Stephen and his mother and the whole fucking village.

John stared at him, unable to believe his ears, then he turned, took a step towards the door, and with a grunt of anger put his fist through the plate glass door.

Danny stared at it. Heavy shards hung down from the top of the frame like a jagged curtain, icicles. The bottom third had caved in completely and lay on the living-room floor. The rest was outside in the hall, where John's explosive blow had propelled it. His fist was hanging by his side. Blood dripped off the knuckles onto the carpet. He was grinning, manic.

You shit, Danny said in a slow, whispery voice. You stupid, mad shit.

Rab came down the stairs at a run. Danny? Danny, are you okay?

Danny jerked out of it, white face flushing up with anger. Yeah, great. He looked at John. Why don't you open the door, Godzilla? Or are you just going to bleed to death on the floor?

The door handle turned from outside. Danny yelled, Hold it! Don't open it yet. There's glass everywhere. He stepped over and bent down and began picking up the pieces. He tried to ignore the steady drip of blood on the floor beside his head where John stood watching him.

Rab hunkered down at the other side and peered through the shattered door. What happened?

Get me the bin, Danny said then added, Hurry up, he's bleeding like a pig. He saw Ian's feet come out of the kitchen and stop at the far end of the hall, then Stephen's, in stocking soles, come running down off the stairs.

Rab came back and passed the bin through. Danny cleared the biggest pieces and passed it back. He used the hearth shovel to clear the last of the blockage and opened the door. Rab came in, stepping carefully over the rock-salt of debris, looking at John, face curling with disgust. And what's this supposed to prove?

John smiled at him, nodded faintly and said, Go crawl up your arsehole, queer boy.

Danny went out, pushing Stephen back into the hall, but he saw in an instant that the boy had heard the exchange. His face was white, frightened. Danny sent him to get his trainers. Go on, it's covered in fucking glass in here. Jump to it.

Stephen went back up the stairs two at a time. Ian still stood there at the kitchen door, watching. Danny walked up the hall towards him. Someday, Ian, if God's good to me, it'll be your fucking head he puts through it.

Ian smiled: Nothing touches me, Danny. Nothing. He turned and went back into the kitchen.

Rab and John came out the living-room. Danny stood back to let them pass then stood in the kitchen doorway and watched Rab shove his hand under a running tap then attempt to pick the glass out with tweezers. Fucking animal, Rab said, but John was watching Danny over the top of his bent head. He might as well have been saying, Rhubarb. John wasn't listening.

Danny turned away, hearing Stephen come back down the stairs. He went out to meet him. Come and give me a hand to clean this up.

They picked the rest of the glass up then Danny hoovered the floor for splinters. Come on, he said, pulling out the flex and dropping it where he stood. I've had enough of this, let's go.

Go? Stephen looked at him.

Yeah, go. Danny looked out the window. Snow's off. Go and get our jackets. Hurry up, chop chop.

Stephen went up the stairs two at a time again. Danny waited in the living-room doorway, watching their shadows moving in the kitchen, listening to the sound of their voices.

Stephen came back down. Danny grabbed his jacket, taking his arm and propelling him into the front hall. Come on, out the front, he whispered.

They went out quickly through the front hall and out the front door.

The snow crunched underfoot. The air was icy cold, dry as peppermints. It caught in their throats. Jeez, Stephen whispered.

Come on. Danny went down the path and over the grass to the road. We'll go to the pub.

Stephen called out after him, running to catch up, They'll wonder where we've gone.

Let them.

They went inside, feeling the blast of hot air come out to meet them. Danny hadn't been inside in months. He was greeted like a long lost son. He bought a double rum and a Coke. The publican ribbed him about his drinking elsewhere.

Danny endured the banter and took the drinks over to the farthest booth. Stephen was hiding in the corner. This do? he asked

Couldn't be better, Danny said.

The pub wasn't particularly busy; Monday night regulars. Danny poured half the rum into the glass of Coke. Stephen smiled up at him. Danny topped his own rum up with what was left in the Coke bottle. Okay? he asked.

Stephen nodded.

Danny sighed and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his