Page 7 of August’s Thief
CHAPTER 7
Days turned into weeks. The Porsche became a permanent fixture outside the betting shop. Yoz and Co. extorted twenty pounds a day to guard it. I’d have happily paid two hundred if it meant spending every afternoon with Dawson and Mikey. I never stayed the night; Mikey slept in the only bedroom, and with the best will in the world, Dawson’s squishy two-seater sofa, which flipped into a narrow single cot, couldn’t accommodate the both of us.
Mikey’s routines became my routines; I discovered he enjoyed having his palms massaged while watching Peppa Pig. I grew to adore his appreciative hums whenever Dawson produced a shortbread biscuit dipped in strawberry yoghurt. I learned his dislikes, namely every single drop of every single medicine, and Dawson’s creative strategies for disguising the taste, centring around chocolate buttons. I looked after him on my own sometimes when Dawson popped to the shops, and no crises befell either of us.
Needless to say, I fell deeper in love with both.
On Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, a very jolly man arrived in a minibus to collect Mikey and ferry him to a day care centre. There were no prizes for guessing how Dawson and I passed the time.
“Will you come and stay at the estate for the weekend?” I asked as he lay in my arms. “With Mikey?”
I revelled in these moments of quiet intimacy after sex, my entire world reduced to a lumpy sofa and our two bodies nestled together. Sometimes, amongst the whispers and giggles, we’d kiss and get semi-hard again. We’d rub against each other, not taking it anywhere, just loving each other’s bodies, knowing the closeness was enough. “The farmer has moved the cows to a field near the house. My housekeeper can make up a bed for Mikey in my dressing room, so he’ll only be a few feet away from us.”
Dawson raised his eyebrows at dressing room . “Not sure his beanie chair will fit in the Porsche.” He said it teasingly, but my lover had been a little subdued today. He’d coddled Mikey as usual and taken extra special care rubbing cream into his thin, stiff calves. He’d even sung nursery rhymes and pulled silly faces to distract him during nappy changing, and Mikey had gurgled and jerked his arms like they were sharing the best joke ever. But I hadn’t missed the sag of his shoulders as we waved the minibus off, nor the thin line of his lips as he turned away.
“I have another car.” I nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his biscuity, warm scent. “It’s plenty big enough for all of Mikey’s things. A Range Rover.”
“Of course you do,” he chuffed. “What self-respecting gazillionaire hasn’t?”
“Hey…” I stroked my fingers through his hair. “Don’t be like that. What’s wrong?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Dawson sighed and sat up. “I wasn’t going to bother you with it; it’s only down at the local magistrate’s court, but my hearing date came through this morning. Set for a week on Monday. They’re not going to leave it at just a seventy quid fine.”
“Bloody hell, Dawson! Why wouldn’t you bother me with that?”
“Er… because it’s fucking humiliating? Going to court for thieving fucking socks and Weetabix?”
“It’s not humiliating. I won’t have you say that. I’m proud that you stole things for Mikey. That you were prepared to put everything on the line for him. And whatever the fine this time, I’ll pay it.”
“I know.” He sighed again. “Although I wish you didn’t have to. But what if it’s not a fine? I laughed it off, but that copper warned me I might get a custodial sentence. They’re clamping down on shoplifters. My solicitor agreed.”
I’d watched too many movies; images of Dawson roped to a hook in a bare grey cell with clanking chains tethering his ankles flashed through my mind. “How long for?”
“Not long,” he said. “No more than a few weeks. To teach me a lesson, make an example of me.”
Climbing off the sofa, he walked over to the narrow window above the sink and looked out, seeing nothing. A solitary tear trickled down his cheek. I was straight there after him, wrapping his trembling body in my arms, breathing him in. “It’s okay, Dawson, it will all work out.”
“It won’t, Gussie.” He shook his head as more tears fell. “What if social services get involved and I lose Mikey? It would be my own stupid fault. For thinking I could keep him. Eileen told me I should stop nicking stuff last time I got caught, and I didn’t fucking listen. Because I want Mikey to have it all. I want him to have any bloody sheepskin rug he needs. The best socks too, and the best medicines, the best Weetabix, and the best fucking custard creams. Because he’s the best brother in the world, and if I lose him, then I’ve got nothing.”
He sobbed then, an awful noise from deep in his gut and plunging straight into mine. “No, you haven’t, Dawson, don’t say that. You’ve got me. We’re a team now, and we can sort this. Every social service report you’ve had says he’s having excellent care. They can’t fault you. You aren’t going to lose him.”
He wiped at his tears. “Most of the time I know that, but in the middle of the night my mind races, you know? I think of the worst.”
“He’ll be fine, even if you have to do a few weeks. I’ll be here—we can show we’ve got support in place. Me, Eileen, the day centre. I’ll employ a fucking nurse, just for show, if I have to. And it will be an open prison. We’ll be able to visit, and you can talk to him every day. It will be over in a flash, I promise.”
He was calming, wiping his eyes. This meltdown was always going to happen sooner or later. Better now so we could have our ducks in a row, not a last-minute scramble. Even my money couldn’t overcome the magistrate’s decision, but we’d damned well do everything to minimise the impact.
“Okay,” he said, sagging against me. “But then what? Two months ago, it was just me and Mikey, surviving. Sort of. And now, you’re offering me a dream on a plate. But have you thought it all through, Gus? What about the future? Mikey isn’t going to suddenly disappear, you know. And he won’t get any better either. He’s part of me. The routines, the responsibility, the tie of being with him 24/7. It’s my normal, and I’m happy with that, but the novelty palls pretty fast for everyone else. Wait until he gets a chest infection and we’re in and out of the hospital for days on end.”
I pressed my lips against his neck, not caring that my repulsive scarring was smooshed against his perfect flesh, for the simple reason that Dawson didn’t care either.
“If you’re trying to scare me away, my love, then it’s not working. I’m here for the long haul, and if that means doing whatever we must, and me spending whatever money I must, to ensure Mikey has what he needs and is never parted from you, then that’s what we’ll do. And if dropping that on you is all a bit heavy, then I don’t care. It’s…” I hesitated. I love you trembled on the tip of my tongue, but it was way too soon. “Anyhow, waking up next to this ugly mug gets pretty thin pretty fast too. Who says you’re not going to tire of me? I might be able to ease your money worries, but I’m not exactly a knight in shining armour, am I?”
Dawson swivelled in my arms, rising on tiptoes to kiss my mouth. “Do you mean all that, Gussie?”
Christ, how much more did I need to do to convince him that I was the winner here? That since he’d sprung into my world, I hardly recognised this new, happy, confident version of me? “Yes, I mean it. I love you, and I want you both in my life. Every day. For as long as you’ll have me.”
With exquisite tenderness, he traced the pitted ridges and furrows of my cheek and jaw, eyes glittering with unshed tears. And with steel behind them, too; my perfect match possessed plenty of that. “Who wants a knight in shining armour? Shining armour hasn’t won any battles. Me and Mikey prefer our knights a bit battered and bruised. Like you.”