The Train by Sarah Bourne (fiction books to read txt) 📕

fear spoke for him, saying what he believed the doctors really meant; they weren’t willing to operate because it was too far gone and they didn’t want to tell him that it was useless. That he only had months to live. He was angry with himself; he should have insisted on surgery.

He walked, trying to outpace his fear and an hour later he found himself on Hampstead Heath, puffing from the exertion of the uphill climb but feeling calmer. He turned and looked at London below him, cranes marking the sites of new skyscrapers, sunlight glinting off the glass buildings in the city. The Gherkin standing like a black missile, a bold, aggressive building. And the Shard, soaring towards the heavens, so full of hope and light and space. He inhaled deeply and felt, for a moment, hope and light and space fill him too. And then he remembered the little nugget growing in his body and the fear returned.

He turned his back on the view and started walking again. Although it was a weekday, there were quite a few people about. Two teenage boys were trying to fly a kite with little success – even up here there was little wind. A couple was enjoying a romantic picnic, paté and cheeses set out on plates, the crackers in an open packet. Champagne sparkled in plastic flutes. The couple kissed as if no one was watching, their hands in each other’s hair. Ray had to look away as a lump rose in his throat – he wanted what they had. He wanted to embrace his lover without a care in the world. He was angry and disappointed that Russell couldn’t face what was happening, couldn’t support him in his hour of need. He turned and walked quickly away.

At the ponds, he stopped. As a teenager, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, he used to come here with Steven to swim, to hang out with friends and get away from the censorious gazes of all the straight people in London. To have a break from his parents who didn’t understand – didn’t want to understand – his sexuality. They’d thrown him out not long after that summer, when he wouldn’t be bent back into the shape they wanted him to be, wouldn’t lead the life they’d mapped out for him. Wife, children, steady job.

He watched. Men lay on the grass enjoying the sun, jumped, whooping, into the water, swam and bobbed around. He wondered how Steven was. They’d parted about the same time Ray’s parents had chucked him out, occasionally bumping into each other in the intervening years at gallery openings or friends’ parties. All that had stopped when Ray moved out of London. He’d heard Steven was HIV positive – he always had been more of a risk-taker than Ray, and more promiscuous as it turned out. Ray didn’t know if he was even still alive although he presumed he was, the drugs being what they were these days. He knew plenty of men who were living quite healthily with HIV.

‘Hello there. Are you coming in?’

Ray spun round to see a man, shorter than him with blond hair and startlingly blue eyes, looking at him. Daniel Craig eyes.

‘Don’t hang around out here, the action’s all in there,’ the man said. ‘I’m Aidan by the way.’

‘Ray. I was just out walking.’

‘Well, you walked and you got here. Come on, you look like you could do with a sit-down.’

Ray did want to sit down. He wanted to sit with Aidan and relax and forget about everything else, just for a few minutes.

‘I don’t have my trunks. I wasn’t expecting to be here.’

‘Trunks aren’t necessary,’ said Aidan. His eyes twinkled when he smiled. He held out a hand to Ray, who took it and allowed himself to be led to the grassy area beside the water. Aidan spread a towel out and they sat.

‘You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your poor tight shoulders,’ said Aidan, beginning to massage them. Ray stiffened at his touch and then gave in to it, feeling the other man’s thumbs find the knots of stress and fear in his muscles and begin to knead them out. He sighed.

‘Bad day at the office?’ Aidan’s voice was soft, concerned.

Ray looked at his briefcase. It was all but empty now he’d given the papers to the accountant. He could see why someone would think he’d been at work. Maybe he should go along with the lie, pretend all was well, that he had, indeed, had a tough day at work. But Aidan seemed to care. He was still massaging his shoulders and bit by bit, Ray felt himself soften, release. He wanted to lie down on the towel and let Aidan do his magic.

‘Take off your shoes,’ said Aidan. ‘Let’s get you more comfortable.’

Yes, thought Ray. He knows what I need. A tear gathered in the corner of his eye and a great sob caught in his chest. He keeled over, lying in a foetal position.

‘Oh, poor girl, it’s worse than I thought.’ Aidan lay down too, spooning Ray and stroking his hair, his back, whispering to him that it would be okay, he was there to comfort him.

Slowly, Ray calmed down. The sob was expelled in deep puffs of breath. He surrendered to Aidan’s hands and his soft breath on the back of his neck as he kept up the platitudes.

Ray felt Aidan’s erection against his back as he gently rubbed himself against him. A leg wrapped itself over Ray’s and Aidan’s grip became tighter. Ray was surprised but he couldn’t honestly say he was shocked. This was the Men’s Pond, after all. What he was shocked by was the need he suddenly felt, by the heat in his own body and his erection straining against his trousers.

‘Atta boy.’ Aidan smiled. ‘Shall we go somewhere a little more private?’

Ray could hardly talk. His heart hammered against his ribs.

They stumbled to a quiet patch behind the dressing rooms,