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Chapter Ten

Josiah

He walked down the street, carrying a cardboard tray containing five cups of hot tea.

There was a red car across the road. He stepped off the kerb towards it…

and then hesitated. Something bad waited for him there.

He tried to stop, to turn away, but his feet ignored him.

They carried on walking, inexorably, taking him to his dreadful fate.

He shouted in frustration, willing them to stop …

and then five cups of tea arced into the air.

He felt warm liquid splash his arms and chest, and when he looked down, he saw that it was blood, staining his purple sweater with vivid crimson streaks.

He woke with a start. For a second, it was the same as always – he was alone and gasping for air – and then suddenly, unexpectedly, it was different. A pair of warm arms encircled him, comforting him.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay,” a gentle voice murmured.

He blinked rapidly, several times, still breathing hard.

Alex was holding him close and rubbing soothing circles on his back.

“It’s okay. Just a nightmare,” Josiah said, relaxing. He rested his chin on Alex’s shoulder.

“The same nightmare?” Alex asked softly.

“Yes,” he said gruffly into Alex’s neck .

“Peter?”

“Yes. It’s always the same. It’s the night he died, and I’m walking across the street towards the car. I wake up screaming before I get there.”

“Because you know what’s waiting for you, or because you don’t want to face it?”

Josiah thought about it for a moment. “Both. As I’m walking, I sometimes tell myself that this time it could turn out differently, but it never does. It can’t.”

“Do you ever think about the night he died?” Alex asked quietly. “I mean, really think about it? Instead of finding ways to avoid it?”

Josiah drew back and gazed at him. In the dark, he could only make out the light gleam of Alex’s curious eyes and the shape of his head, his hair tousled from sleep. “No,” he answered stiffly. “I prefer to remember happier moments from my life with Peter, not that one.”

“Maybe that’s why it haunts you?” Alex suggested. “Because you block it out? Maybe you’ve given it too much power.”

“It was the worst night of my life. I don’t want to think about it,” Josiah said wearily.

“I just thought it might help if you allowed yourself to remember it, instead of suppressing it.”

“I can’t change what happened – why wallow in it?”

“I understand.” Alex brushed his hand through Josiah’s hair. “Are you feeling better now?”

“I’m fine.” Josiah knew it was completely inappropriate for him to have allowed Alex to first sleep in his bed, and now to comfort him like this. Elsie, Big Jen, and Liz would be horrified if they knew – as would Esther. He pulled away. “What time is it?”

“Around three, I think.” Alex glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “Yes, just gone three. Plenty of time for more sleep.”

Josiah grunted and rolled onto his back.

He stared at the ceiling, keeping stiffly to his side of the bed.

Seconds later, Alex slid over and rested his head on his shoulder.

He knew he should shrug the IS off, but instead he wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close.

Maybe Alex was right. Maybe he should allow himself to remember it properly instead of always pushing the memory away .

He steeled himself and then closed his eyes and allowed his mind to return to that night, a little over seven years ago…

“Not that I don’t appreciate you going all kinky on me, but this isn’t the way to the bedroom,” Josiah pointed out as Peter guided him along the hallway.

He’d arrived home from work ten minutes before, and now his eyes were obscured by the soft cashmere scarf he’d given Peter for Christmas the previous year.

“No, it isn’t,” Peter replied, sounding like an excited schoolboy. Josiah could feel the nervous energy radiating from him.

“Well, I hope the payoff will be just as good as if we were in the bedroom.”

“Oh yeah.” Peter was positively purring. “It will.”

Josiah heard a door opening, and then Peter guided him down the small flight of steps into the garage.

“Is it a present of some kind?” Josiah asked.

“It’s not your birthday for ages.”

“You don’t have to wait until my birthday. You could get me a surprise present just for being such a nice husband.”

“Hah!” Peter said. There was a pause, and then, “I could, actually. I’m not very good at thinking of stuff like that. You’re the nice husband; I’m the crap one.”

“I wouldn’t say that. You have your moments.” Josiah grinned beneath the makeshift blindfold.

“Okay, ready?”

Josiah felt himself being moved into position, and then Peter undid the scarf and whisked it away with a big “Ta-dah!”

Josiah found himself standing in front of the Pre-R car Peter had been working on for so long that sometimes he’d joked he felt like a “car widower”. “What am I looking at?” He frowned.

“This. It. Her! She’s done!” Peter waved a hand at the gleaming red Jaguar.

He’d been slowly and lovingly restoring her to a pristine state over the past two years, but the changes had been so incremental Josiah couldn’t see anything different about her now.

She’d long since ceased to be a pile of old metal taking up space in the garage, Peter having restored her so she looked far more like a car and less like a big metal blob.

He’d spent the last few months polishing her daily, until the scent of car wax permeated every article of his clothing, his hair, the garage, and most of the house, too.

But even so, the car didn’t actually work, because Peter had become stuck trying to get hold of some part – Josiah hadn’t been paying attention to its name.

“Done? As in…?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Driveable. She goes,” Peter said excitedly. “I’ve restored her to her original condition – she’s as good now as the day her first owner drove her off the garage forecourt in 1999.”

“Before the waters rose and the world changed,” Josiah said.

Maybe that was why Peter had poured so much of his love into this car.

She was a symbol of a better time, a glamorous era when people drove beautiful, sleek vehicles, not clunky ducks.

It was a time Peter had heard about from his grandmother and associated with all that was good, and kind, and free – in stark comparison to the world now.

Josiah suspected that if they could go back in time, Peter would find much to be dissatisfied with, but the fantasy was compelling all the same.

Walking around the car, he listened as Peter pointed out all its best features.

“And this, here…” Peter lifted the bonnet and pointed at some inner workings of the engine. “I thought I’d never get hold of the part I needed, but then this guy came into the garage, and I got talking to him, and he knew someone who knew someone…”

Josiah zoned out, just enjoying Peter’s babbling enthusiasm – he positively glowed when talking about his beloved car.

“It’s a huge achievement,” Josiah said when his husband paused for breath. “I’m proud of you. Well done.”

Peter looked as if he’d explode with joy. He launched into what would, undoubtedly, have been another incomprehensible description of engine components if Josiah hadn’t grabbed him, lifted him onto the highly polished bonnet, and kissed him to within an inch of his life.

“Mmmm…” Peter sighed.

Josiah drew back. “Something this beautiful should be properly christened, shouldn’t she?” he suggested with a wicked grin. “I might not be wearing leathers this time but… remember Geneva?”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Here? Now?”

“Here. Now. On top of all this smooth, shiny red metal.” Josiah traced a finger over the car.

“Yes… God, yes,” Peter agreed enthusiastically.

Josiah peeled Peter out of his trousers and boxer shorts and threw them onto the garage floor. Then he glanced around. “Please tell me you have something here that we can use, so I don’t have to ruin the moment by traipsing upstairs for the lube – and don’t bloody well suggest engine grease.”

“Vaseline – over there,” Peter said, pointing at the garage shelves, which groaned under the weight of a vast array of tools, paints, brushes, and other detritus. Peter was a terrible hoarder, and his collection seemed to grow daily.

“What the hell do you need Vaseline in here for?” Josiah asked, grabbing it off the shelf.

“Prevents battery corrosion – smear it on the terminals,” Peter said with a grin.

Josiah was soon buried deep in his husband. Peter looked debauched, with his head flung back and his bare arse sliding up and down on the smooth surface of the Jaguar. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He hoped the neighbours couldn’t hear as Peter roared his way to an explosive orgasm. Josiah came with less fanfare. Then he leaned forward and, resting his hands on the bonnet, kissed Peter lovingly on the lips before withdrawing, reluctantly, from the sweet warmth of his body.

“I should buy you that present,” Peter said, gazing up at him, sex-stupid and sated. “You are a very, very nice husband.”

“You’re not too bad, yourself.” Josiah grinned. Picking up Peter’s clothes, he threw them at him. “But you might need to polish the car again. She definitely received a good christening.”

Sliding off the bonnet, Peter got dressed, then grabbed a cloth and polished until the Jaguar was as good as new again.

Josiah watched with a benign smile on his face, wondering how anyone could love an inanimate object as much as Peter loved this old car.

“So, want to go for a ride?” Peter asked.

“I thought we just did.” Josiah winked.

“Ha-ha. No, a real ride – out on the street.”

“I don’t think we have time.” Josiah glanced at his watch. “We’re doing the pick-up at eight. We’ll have to leave soon.”

“I know – um…” Peter grimaced. “I told Elsie we’d do it in the car.”

“You did what?” Josiah glared at him. Life with Peter was never dull, but he wished his husband’s impulsive behaviour was less risky.