Rentboy (27 page)

“I don’t love him. I hate him. I want him dead, but I always wanted him to love me.” Tears ran down his cheeks. “Every time I think about that towel and that bin bag, I can’t breathe again.”

With his other hand Mr. Conran patted Fox’s chest. “What they did to you was a form of waterboarding. You can actually drown from it. You inhaled a good deal of water. The doctor tells me that you also inhaled some vomit into your lungs. You could easily have died or suffered brain damage.”

“I hate my fucking father. I hate him.” Mucus filled his throat and nose. “I’ve got to sit up. I can’t breathe.”

Mr. Conran released Fox’s hand and pressed a button on the head of the bed. “Wait a minute. I’ll adjust the bed so it will elevate your shoulders.”

With relief Fox sat partially upright, grabbing at the handful of paper tissues Mr. Conran handed him. He blew his nose hard. “Thanks.”

“You’ve got post-traumatic stress disorder, Fox. I’ll get you someone to help you with that after you leave here. It will lessen with time. But listen to me very carefully now. Are you paying attention?”

He looked into the man’s gentle face. “Yeah.”

“You must tell no one what happened.” He looked directly into Fox’s eyes. “None of it, not the pesticide, Mr. Maputwa, nothing. You will most certainly not talk about the men who rescued you. They risked their lives for you. I will be having this conversation with Dr. Atherton when he is conscious. If you talk about this to anyone, you will be in very grave trouble. Do you understand? You could be prosecuted by the government.” His face was very serious. “You must forget it ever happened. You are no longer in danger.”

“Yeah, but how do I explain the state I’m in?”

“You’ve been in a car accident with your friend Dr. Atherton. He was driving. There was a storm. There were a number of accidents last night. You remember nothing because you have lost your memory of the event.”

“So it was last night, then?” Fox asked.

“Yes. All evidence of the activities at the Atherton farmhouse has been removed. They will never know what went on in their absence. Your mother and Dr. Atherton’s parents have been informed of the accident.” From his briefcase he pulled a folded copy of
The Times
. A small article on page two mentioned several car accidents due to the storm. Afton Baillie and Dr. Edward Atherton were mentioned by name. Conran held the newspaper for him, pointing at the story.

Fox read the article, amazed at these people and how quickly they acted. “I had no idea what my dad and Maputwa were up to, and that slimy bloke, Howard. Eddie didn’t either. He had less of a clue than me.”

“We know that, Fox. As soon as you knew the seriousness of the situation, you worked to prevent it. You did the right thing. You’re both very brave.”

“It was God’s idea to come to your people,” Fox said. “I didn’t think anyone would believe me.”

“God?”

“Godfrey Rooke.”

“Ahh.” Conran went into his briefcase again to remove a document. He placed it on a clipboard and handed Fox a pen. “Read this and sign it.”

The Official Secrets Act was emblazed across the top of the document in calligraphy. Fox read the act and scrawled his name at the bottom.

“I must go now,” Mr. Conran said. “Get well, and I will arrange a psychologist to assist you with the PTSD.”

Conran was at the door when Fox said, “I want to see Eddie. I want to say sorry for all the lies I told him.”

“He’s already had two surgeries today, his leg and his face. Two different surgeons were needed, so he won’t be in any shape to communicate for a while. Aside from that, his debrief is more extensive than yours. You can see him after you both leave here if you want to. You may be well enough to leave the day after tomorrow. Even though your physical injuries were more immediately life threatening, his will take longer to heal.”

Mr. Conran had the most reassuring voice. Why couldn’t he have a dad like him instead of the nutjob he got?

“Get some sleep, Fox.”

* * * *

It was still dark out when Fox sat upright and dropped his feet to the floor. Experimentally he pushed himself up off the bed until he was standing. He felt quite steady and attempted a couple of steps. He was naked, and while that didn’t bother him in the least, he doubted it would be a good idea to go in search of Eddie like that. A built-in wardrobe across the room caught his attention. Inside he found a dressing gown that, while it was new, looked like something Eddie’s dad would wear. “Very fetching,” he said, looking at the navy blue and gray stripes. After some fiddling around he figured out how to unhook his intravenous bag from the pole, slide it through the arm, and pull on the dressing gown. Decently covered, he pushed his IV pole outside into the dim corridor.

It was more like a hotel than a hospital, nice furniture, none of that utilitarian plastic and metal crap NHS hospitals used. Vases of fresh flowers adorned alcoves and tables in the waiting areas. The place wasn’t that big, but it was incredibly well equipped. He didn’t get far before a uniformed security guard stopped him.

“Can I help you, sir?” No one had ever called him sir before. Goths were the least likely people on earth to be called sir. Aside from that, it reminded him of his father.

“Name’s Fox. Take me to Dr. Edward Atherton’s room.”

“I’m not sure I can do that, sir,” the man said.

From a nearby nurse’s station a couple of nurses came hurrying over, one male and one female. “Let me help you back to your room, Mr. Baillie.”

They were not going to treat him like an Alzheimer’s patient, and he was not going anywhere without checking that Eddie was still in the land of the living. “I’m not going back to my room until I’ve seen Eddie. Now take me to Eddie, or I’ll start screaming.” After a brief demonstration, his still-raw throat was killing him, and the nurses quickly assured him they would see what they could do. One rushed back to the desk and got on the phone. The other said to the security guard, “Get him a wheelchair. He shouldn’t really be out of bed.”

The relief he felt when he sank down into the comfortable wheelchair was huge. He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was. For several minutes Fox sat resting while the security guard held on to the handles of the chair to make sure he didn’t go anywhere.

“Right, what’s this?” A youngish male doctor walked up to him.

“Take me to my boyfriend, Dr. Atherton, right now.” If he sounded really determined, they would have to comply with him.

“All right, but he was still asleep last time I looked in on him.” He took control of the wheelchair. The sensation of riding in the chair was not pleasant. It moved too fast when he was still a bit dizzy. He felt really out of control to have someone else moving him around. They hadn’t gone far when they stopped at a room with a security guard sitting outside.

“Why does he need security? Is he in danger?”

“It’s just a precaution.” The guard opened the door for them.

Eddie was asleep. His jaw was wired shut, and his left leg was in a metal caliper that held it straight and had screws going through his flesh directly into the knee. His skin was yellow with iodine around the screws, and the whole thing was held up by wires suspended from a frame. The doctor wheeled Fox over to the bed close enough to take Eddie’s hand. It was very cool. “Why is he cold?”

The doctor placed his hand on Eddie’s chest and then his forehead. “He’s not; he’s fine. Sometimes the extremities get cold after surgery.”

“When is the wire going to come off his jaw?”

“Maybe ten days,” the doctor said. “Let me take you back to your room now. He’s not going to wake up for hours, and you should be lying down.”

“Hang on,” Fox said. Slowly he stood and leaned over the bed rail. With his fingertips, he touched Eddie’s face and then leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. “I love you, dear.”

The twins screamed, running down the steps toward him. “Fox!”

Gathering them into his arms, Fox kissed and hugged them. “How’s my favorite aliens?”

“Mum,” they said in unison, looking at the open front door. It was eleven in the morning, and she was up. She wasn’t dressed, but still, she was up and smiling. As if that wasn’t enough, the twins had said their second word ever.

Fox turned to wave to the driver who had brought him home from the hospital, but the man was already cruising slowly out of the driveway. In the hall Tara kissed him, surprising him with her strength when she hugged him tightly. “I wanted to come to the hospital, Afton, but they wouldn’t let me.” She still smelled of booze, but she was not drunk by any means. “The man who came to tell us what happened said it was called St. Mark’s. He said you weren’t allowed visitors. I tried to look them up, but I couldn’t find them on the Internet or in the phone book.”

Fox had spent four more days in the hospital. When he tried to see Eddie again, he found they had moved him. Mr. Conran had returned, saying Fox was not allowed to speak with Eddie until he had been debriefed, and he had left it at that.

“I know. It’s a new hospital, and they were really strict.” Was he going to spend the rest of his life lying? “I’m fine now.”

“What about your boyfriend? The hospital said he was driving the car.”

“Yeah, he was. He was worse than me. Broken bones. He’s still there.” They walked into the bright, extensive living room and sat on the big leather sofa. The room was spotlessly clean and tidy. The curtains were wide open. Never in the four years they had lived in the house had they all sat in the living room together. “You two been cleaning?” The twins smiled at him. They looked really happy.

“I’ve been up with them every day, Afton,” Tara said proudly. “I’d forgotten how nice it was when he’s gone and it’s just us. I wonder if he knows about the car accident. I thought about trying to get in touch with him, but I didn’t know how.” At the mention of their father, Arden grasped Fox’s hand, and Alder leaned into his side.

“I suppose he’ll be back soon enough.”

“Afton, things have got to change, luv,” Tara said. She looked fixedly at him, and he knew exactly what she meant.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I’ve had lots of time to think about it over the last few days.” William Baillie was going to die. It was just a matter of when.

“When do you think he’ll come home?” she asked fearfully.

“Any day, unfortunately.”

* * * *

The twins were in the shower together, filling the bathroom with steam and making the air moist. Fox panicked when he breathed it in and quickly stepped back onto the landing to gather his wits. He hadn’t been able to touch a bin bag since he got home, and he’d had to show the twins how to put the rubbish out. The shower terrified him, and going out in the rain had become impossible.

Taking a deep breath, he walked back in, speaking loudly and firmly, which always reassured the twins. Someone in their lives had to know what they were doing.

“Blinkin’ heck, aliens, you didn’t open the window or put the fan on.”

Giggling came from the glass shower stall. As fast as he could, Fox opened the window and switched on the fan, breathing deeply to calm himself as the air cleared. He opened the shower door and leaned in to switch off the water. “Look how pink you both are. You must be the cleanest twins in the world.”

His time away had made them cling to him even more, while their happiness at his return reminded him of a couple of puppies who missed their master. The thought of their joy being trampled on by William Baillie’s return made him feel almost as ill as wet towels did. They’d had two more days of freedom, but it couldn’t last. There was nothing to keep Baillie in Uganda now.

The twins stepped out of the shower, and Fox handed them a towel each. While they rubbed themselves he took another towel and began to dry their hair. “Where’s your pajamas, in the bedroom?” He never expected an answer, but he was thrilled that they were saying
mum
now. If they could say
mum
and
Fox
and pronounce the words perfectly, then they could say other things too.

From the shelf beside the sink he picked up the hairbrush, glancing at the misted mirror. Just the sight of mist made him ill. “Arden first.” His sister stood with her back to him while he gently brushed the tangles from her hair. When it was perfect, she stood watching while he did the same to Alder.

Fox glanced at the mirror again to see the mist clearing. The psychologist had come in to see him while he was still in the hospital and made him an appointment to come to his Harley Street office for counseling. Cognitive behavioral therapy would sort him out in no time, he’d said.

Fox jumped, convinced he saw a shadow cross the mirror. Every time anything unexpected happened, he jumped. Last night he woke up from a dream, certain someone was in the room with him, but he was alone. Afterward he had checked the whole house to see if his father had returned.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he said when Alder’s hair was as perfect as his sister’s.

Naked, side by side, the twins looked at him, waiting for instructions. Again Fox looked at the mirror. The mist had cleared completely, reflecting, to Fox’s horror, William Baillie, standing in the half-open doorway staring into the mirror. But his gaze was not on Fox or Alder. He looked intently at Arden, making Fox look at her also. For the first time he realized that she was budding little breasts, and there was a sprinkling of golden pubic hair at the apex of her thighs. Alder, too, had pubic hair, though both twins had narrow, skinny bodies like Fox.

With lust on his face, William Baillie stared at his daughter’s slender, pale beauty. The sickness sprouting in Fox’s belly compared equally with the sickness he had felt when nearly suffocating in Eddie’s kitchen.

As if he had not seen him, Fox kicked the door closed. “Right, you’re both too big to be running round the house naked anymore.” He took a couple of clean towels. “Wrap those around yourselves, and we’ll go and get your pajamas on.”

Alder wrapped the towel around his waist, and Arden did the same. “No, like this.” Fox took Arden’s towel and wrapped it so it covered her breasts. Alder copied her. “That’s right; well done.” He pulled them into a tight hug.