Rentboy (14 page)

“I know.” She whimpered. “I was afraid to take them to the doctor even when he was away because I thought he had damaged their brains with that first beating. I thought he’d be arrested, and then he’d really kill us all because I told on him.”

“That beating might have damaged their brains, but they might have been autistic anyway. Someone mentioned it at my mate’s house yesterday. We have to get them to a doctor and see what we can do for them.”

“No!” She clutched Fox’s arm. “Afton, no. We can’t. He’ll kill me, both of us, if we shame him by taking the twins to a doctor. He hates anyone knowing there’s something wrong with them.”

“It can’t go on, Mum. The only way we’ll ever be free is if he dies. I’m going to kill him.”

The hope in her eyes spoke of her desperation. She wanted him to do it. “Can you?”

“I have to find out about the life insurance first, how much it is and what the stipulations are. We’ll be entitled to his army pension no matter what, and he’ll get more than an ordinary captain because of his time in Special Forces, but I doubt it will be enough over the long haul. I’ll need to make it look like an accident for the life insurance.”

Neither of them had heard William Baillie open the door until he spoke. “What are you talking about? Me? Tara, what’s he saying to you?”

Fox’s heart began to thud. What had Baillie heard? “Just asking Mum how she is.” The fact that they both had bruised faces and were pretending they did not was nothing new.

“She’s drunk, like always,” Baillie said. “Now get downstairs and make some dinner. There a big chicken in the fridge. Make roast potatoes and veg as well. We’re going to sit down together like a proper family.”

“Yes, sir.” Relieved to get away, Fox got up quickly, but his father blocked the doorway.

“And don’t you ever leave this house again without me knowing exactly where you are. And I don’t want them twins leaving the property ever again, not even to go to the park.”

“Yes, sir.” Looking at the floor, Fox waited for his father to move. After a tense few moments, William Baillie stepped farther into the room, allowing Fox to slip past him. The door slammed so suddenly and so hard that it just caught his backside.

Relief flooding him, he took a long breath until he heard his father’s voice through the door. “Get your clothes off, you stupid bitch.” He had beaten her, and now he was going to have sex with her.

Fists clenched, Fox walked downstairs, squeezing his eyes tight shut to prevent his tears from falling.

* * * *

It was horrible, but fortunately rare, when William Baillie made his entire family sit down together for a meal. The dining room, which was hardly ever used, was far too large. It was like eating in an empty restaurant. The twins were silent, terrified of making a noise or spilling their food. Fox watched them like a hawk in case they scratched the mahogany table with their forks. Baillie made them use utensils when he was present, but their fine motors skills were poor, and they hurt themselves more often than not. They would have enjoyed the food if they were not so frightened. Their eyes, already big in their delicate faces, were huge as they sat looking at their plates.

As surreptitiously as he could, Fox had served their food with an inch between each item. If Baillie noticed, he would not allow it. Across from Fox his mum ate awkwardly with her bruised face and split lip.

“Very nice meal, boy,” Baillie said.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Lovely, Afton.” Fox met his mum’s gaze. That she was eating at all was unusual. She had been pretty once. All three of them had got their blond hair from her. But now her belly was swollen by her enlarged liver, making her arms and legs look like sticks.

“Eat up.” Baillie looked at Fox.

From past experience Fox did not even try to argue that he was vegan. The small portion of meat he had put on his plate would have to be eaten. And he did so in tiny bites, washing each one down with mouthfuls of water.

“That’s it, lad. You eat your meat. You might even get some muscles.” Baillie laughed.

It was like dining with the queen. No one was allowed to speak unless spoken to or to bring up a new subject. Arden picked up a roast potato with her fingers.

“Hey, moron, eat with your fucking fork!”

Shaking in fear, she dropped the potato on the floor.

Fox dived after it, retrieving it. He sat down again and put the potato on the table before forking another from the serving plate to give to his sister.

In an instant William Baillie was around the table, grabbing the fallen potato and slamming it into Arden’s face. “Eat it!”

Arden screamed and began flapping her hands.

Fox looked at his mum, who lowered her eyes. She wasn’t going to help her daughter. “Sir, she can’t help it.” Fox got a backhander for his trouble before Baillie sat down again.

“Now, let’s eat like a civilized family. I’m going to be traveling to Uganda in a couple of weeks for work, and I’ll probably be gone for a month. I want a peaceful family life in the meantime. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” Fox said at once.

“Yes, Bill,” Tara said.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this. Other men have normal families.” Baillie looked at the twins before shaking his head in disgust. “I should have drowned them at birth.”

* * * *

For the last hour Fox had sat in the kitchen looking at the knives in the wooden block while working up the courage to take out the carving knife and walk upstairs with it.

I’ll unlock the back door when I’m done and leave it slightly ajar. First I’ll go upstairs, stab him until he’s not moving anymore, and drop the knife in the bedroom. Then I’ll rob the safe in his office. I’ll bury the money in the back garden in a flower bed to retrieve later. It will look like a robbery that ended up in murder. We’ll get the insurance money, and we’ll all live happily ever after.

Do it now.

Before he could reason himself out of it, Fox snatched the knife from the block.

The house was completely still, quiet, and dark as he crept upstairs. He had put the twins to bed directly after the hellish family dinner, and his mum had followed suit. Ear to Baillie’s bedroom door, Fox listened. Years of living with an abusive, volatile father had honed his hearing until it was keenly sensitive. No sound came from within. William Baillie was a lean, fit man who never snored, unlike Tara whose snores reverberated from her room along the landing.

Do it now.

Fox only ever dared enter his father’s bedroom when the twins were in there cleaning, and they worked extremely fast, dying to get out. The room held a terrible sense of threat for all of them. Anywhere William Baillie slept, sat, or ate was a place to be avoided. Tense with fear, he stood, glued to the spot, knife in hand.

Silently, his hands trembling, Fox opened the door. The bedroom curtains were slightly open, casting some small light from the outdoor floodlights into the room. The moment it was dark, Baillie turned on the outdoor lights. Was it just his military training, that he must always be on the defensive, or was there something in particular the man was afraid of? It could be either. Fox had no doubt that his father had many enemies.

In the middle of the king-size bed Baillie lay flat on his back, hands folded on his chest as if he were in his coffin at his own funeral.
I’m having you cremated to make sure you never come back, you bastard.

With the knife held behind his back Fox walked very slowly over the hardwood floor until he stood beside the bed, looking down at the man he hated.

Do it now. One, two, three. Do it!

William Baillie sat bolt upright. “What the fuck are you doing in my room, you little perv?”

With pounding heart Fox took a step back from the bed.
Just do it!
But he’d never stand a chance now. Baillie would have the knife out of his hand before he could raise it high enough to strike. “I came to say I’m sorry for taking the twins away without permission.”

Swinging his feet to the floor, Baillie sat looking at him. “Did you? Go on, then. Apologize for taking the idiots to someone’s house and shaming me like that.”

“I’m very sorry, sir. I’ll never do it again. I shouldn’t have left without permission.”

“Good. Now get to bed like a good little boy.”

As he turned to leave, Fox brought the knife furtively around the front and walked toward the door.

“Fox!”

Without turning back he said, “Yes, sir?”

“If you’re giving your mother any ideas about leaving me, I’ll kill you. I’ll strangle you while you’re looking into my eyes. I’ve done that, you know, killed men with my bare hands.”

“I wouldn’t,” Fox replied.

“And you’d better not be thinking of going anywhere either. Your mother can’t look after the twins. If you go, I’ll have to put them in a home, a loony bin. Now get out.”

“Yes, sir.”

Trying not to hurry, he walked out quietly and closed the door behind him. Sick to his stomach, he ran to the bathroom, reaching the toilet just in time to bring up the meat that had so sickened him at dinner. The rest of his meal came after it. Panting, Fox stood for several minutes before finally brushing his teeth to get the last residual memory of the meat out of his mouth. In the bedroom he stripped and crawled into the wardrobe, still holding the knife.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he said into the silent, stifling air. With the tip of the knife, Fox ran an experimental line down his chest between his nipples. He pressed just hard enough for the blade to cut the flesh. A rush of adrenaline swept through him, sending his senses into high gear. Then he did it again, pressing harder this time. Hot blood bubbled from the wound and ran down his naked body. Again he cut, and then again until the blood ran freely and his mind went soaring. The pain both physical and mental left him, and he felt at peace.

The lift was far too confined a space to be with a homosexual even if it was only three floors down. Bad enough working with Dr. Edward Atherton every day. The man was a dolt who never understood a joke and who worked long hours even when he didn’t have to. Dr. Crispin Howard found him intensely irritating, especially since Atherton was more gifted and creative a scientist than he would ever be. But he was extremely easy to dupe as evidenced by that thug, Baillie’s son, leading him on the way he had. Another queer if ever there was one.

The lift door opened onto the lobby.

“Have a nice evening, Dr. Howard.” Atherton nodded and headed toward the main doors on Keppel Street.

“See you tomorrow,” he answered resentfully.

Atherton’s long stride outstripped Howard’s short-legged walk, and he was quickly out on the street. The automatic glass doors slid open for Howard, but he did not step outside. Baillie’s strange-looking son with the black eye makeup was there, wearing what appeared to be black leggings with a red tartan kilt and a black leather waistcoat over a black button-down shirt. The boy had mentioned he was an art student, but that was no excuse to dress like an extra from an old Mad Max film.

“Are you all right, Eddie?” The boy smiled, making his thin white face almost attractive.

“Fox!” The pleasure in Atherton’s voice turned Howard’s stomach. Bad enough that the man was a genius from a privileged family, but Howard was damned if he would see him happy, especially since it was dangerous for him and Baillie’s son to continue seeing each other. And he fully intended to take as much credit as possible for the safe version of the pesticide Atherton had formulated.

Pulling his mobile from his pocket, Howard stopped. He punched in Baillie’s number. He despised the man, mostly because he was afraid of him, but doing business with him was proving lucrative.

“What d’ y’ fucking want, Howard?” Typical response from a low-class brute like Baillie. This would take the eternal smirk off the man’s face.

“Your son is still fraternizing with Atherton. At this moment they are embracing on the street outside LSHTM.”

“I’ll kill that little queer,” Baillie shouted so loudly that Howard drew the phone away from his ear.

“Killing him is probably unnecessary, but at least tell him to steer clear of Atherton now the job is done. From the look on your son’s face, he really likes the man. Before we know it he will feel guilty about deceiving him and tell him everything.”

“Don’t worry. That won’t happen. And not a fucking word about this to Maputwa or I’ll rip your balls off and feed them to you. He’s had a man following Atherton around, and he saw my son with him. I’ve already warned Fox. Got it?”

“Don’t worry. I won’t say a word. I’ll follow them and keep you informed.” Howard pressed End Call. Still inside the building, he watched Dr. Edward Atherton and Fox Baillie walk off holding hands.

“WHERE HAVE YOU been?” Eddie asked. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Fox squeezed his hand. “Have you?” He shouldn’t be holding Eddie’s hand on the street or anywhere else. He should not have kissed him when they said hello. All he planned on doing was telling him it was over, until he saw him loping out of the building in his brown corduroy trousers and his goofy striped polo shirt. Eddie was the last bloke on earth he had ever thought he could fancy when he first saw him. Now he was all Fox thought about.

“Yes, I have. Why didn’t you come over sooner? It’s been more than a week. I was worried.” Eddie looked at him, causing his glasses to slide down his nose. He pushed them back up with one finger on the bridge, a stupid little gesture Fox had come to cherish in the short time they had known each other.

“Busy.” Fox looked into his eyes, and his cock began to harden. “Do you want sex?”

It must have been the unexpectedness of the question that made Eddie suck in a breath and start to giggle. “I always want it, but only with you.”

“That makes me feel special.” Fox forced himself to sound flippant, but he didn’t feel flippant. He felt lucky, and like the worst frigging liar in the universe. “Come on.” He began in the direction of the Tottenham Court Road.

“That’s the wrong way.” Eddie tugged his hand.