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Why am I even considering this? After fifteen years of staying away from the place where has the interest in it come from? I look over the details of the practice and property for the tenth time. It’s a stupid idea, but I can’t switch off the yearning I have to go home.

“That’s the last of them, Jet.”

Maeve, my vet nurse, stands up from her desk and stretches her arms above her head. She’s a beautiful woman. Her thick, long, dark auburn hair shows off her Scottish heritage. “Do you want me to lock up tonight?”

“Hmm?”

I look up from my laptop. Maeve looks at me expectantly. What did she ask? “Oh, sorry. No, you can go. I’ve got some work to finish up. I’ll do the rounds on the pens.”

“You’ve been staring at that same screen for two days now. Are you going to share what’s so interesting about it?”

Before I can close the page down, Maeve leans over my shoulder. “Ooh, that’s a pretty town. Are you thinking of going on holiday?”

I close my laptop and take a deep breath before I answer so I don’t snap. “Looks can be deceiving.”

It still comes out churlish. “I’m sorry. That was rude. It’s Calston Cove. I grew up there. It wasn’t a happy place.”

“So why look at it?”

Maeve is a good friend. She’s worked with me since I graduated and started to work here. “Is it why you never talk about your family?”

“My father died years ago, but his solicitor recently contacted me that someone has bought his property, and he wanted my bank details to send the money from the sale. It’s a farm and has been empty for a long time, so much so I’d forgotten all about it.”

“Oh, I guess saying sorry for your loss is unnecessary. What have you decided to do?”

“I’m giving it to the Terrence Higgins Trust. Giving it to a charity he would’ve hated is very satisfying. But more to the point, I’m looking at it because there is a veterinary practice for sale. Now all the demons have been laid to rest I’m tempted to return home.”

There’s still one demon left for me to face, but I doubt very much it wants to see me. Ben never contacted me.

“You want to leave here?”

Shock is written all over her face. I’m not surprised, though. I haven’t given any indication of leaving. I love my job and the people I work with.

Honestly, I haven’t thought of leaving, and I sure as shit haven’t had any inclination to go back to Calston Cove. I didn’t go to my parents’ funerals. My mother died first. I never understood why she stayed with my father. He bullied her as much as he did me. I don’t think he was physically violent to her, but words can hurt almost as much as a leather belt. Why didn’t she stick up for me all the countless times before that night? What did he threaten her with?

I’m thirty-three and a grown-arsed man. There are no more nightmares and no one to call me out for being gay. Maybe it is time to go and see what’s changed down there. I doubt someone will recognise me. I’m different from the eighteen-year-old kid who left with a couple of suitcases and nothing else.

“You know, I’ll come with you. If you leave, that is. I can’t imagine working with anyone else. And you may want a friend with you, someone who’s got your back.”

“What? No, I wouldn’t ask you to do that. You’ve got all your family here. It’s over five hundred miles away.”

After everything that happened, I chose Edinburgh. I wanted to be as far away from home as possible. It was the only time my mother stood up to him, insisting he paid all the tuition fees. His condition was I never came back. That was something I was more than happy to agree to.

“You’re not asking. I’m ready for something and somewhere new. If not down there, then maybe somewhere else.”

This surprises me, and the look on her face tells me she’s seen it. “Are you thinking of leaving?”

She hasn’t shown any signs of wanting to leave, that she’s had enough of being here.

“No, but I’m not interested in working with anyone else, so if you go, so do I. You’re stuck with me, mister, so suck it up.”

She swats my shoulder light-heartedly.

I look back at the photograph. The river with the black swans runs through the centre of the town, along the pub where I had my first legal drink. The rest of the shops are new. I don’t recognise any of them, but they all look smart. It could be photoshopped and probably is with the cloudless cerulean sky as the background.

“Are you busy this weekend?”

I already know the answer. She has nothing to do. It’s been the same since she broke up with the last loser boyfriend.

“Nope.”

She pops the P and grins. “Are we going on a road trip?”

“It’s too far to drive for a weekend. I’ll see if I can get a flight to either Plymouth or Exeter. We can hire a car.”

An enthusiasm I wasn’t expecting bubbles up inside me. “What do you say?”

“I say hell yeah!”

She hugs me from behind. “Do you want me to sort out accommodation?”

“Um, yeah, I suppose so. I’m sure there are plenty of Airbnb rentals. We’re out of season, so it should be easy enough.”

“’Kay, see you tomorrow.”

She leaves. I wait until she hops into her car and drives away, then log on to look for flights. It doesn’t take long to book two return tickets and a hire car. With that done, I shut down my laptop and do the rounds on the overnight guests. It’s an easy walk-through with only one grumpy cat that gives me an evil look, but I scratch behind her ear all the same.

I check all the doors are locked and set the alarm, then take the short walk to the cottage that came with the job. A huddled shape lies on the porch but sits up when I approach.

“Hey, Roddy, what’s going on? I haven’t seen you for a while.”

The young homeless guy looks up at me. He’s thinner than he was the last time I saw him. “Sorry for disappearing. I thought I had a place to stay. Turned out to be another drugged-filled squat. I don’t do that shit anymore.”

“Come on in. I’ll order some food while you get washed up. What do you want?”

“Pizza would be great.”

He enters the house, drops his ratty backpack, and heads to the bathroom. I’ve been helping this kid out for about a year now. He reminds me of what could’ve happened to me. He says he’s eighteen, but I have my doubts. He’s still so fragile. He was thrown out for being gay, then fell into the trap so many kids do: drugs, selling blow jobs for food or somewhere to stay. I help him out as much as he’ll let me.

I grab some clean clothes for him, a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. I keep a few things here for him just in case he shows up. He never stays more than a night and is usually gone by the time I get up. He always leaves a thank-you note. It will be the same tonight.

I was right about Roddy. He did his usual bug-out in the morning. As much as I worry about him, I know he won’t accept any money from me, and I must respect that.

Tonight, there’s no sign of him, and after a shower, I order Chinese, grab a beer from the fridge, and wander to the sofa, snagging my laptop again. Instead of opening it, I flick on the telly and search through Amazon and Netflix until I find something to keep my mind occupied enough not to want to look for anything to do with Calston Cove. I pick MasterChef and enjoy the irony of tucking into a huge bowl of fried rice and sticky chilli beef while culinary art is being made on the TV.

I successfully make it through the evening without Googling anyone I used to know. Friends like Drew and Ivan. Did they ever give me another thought? Did they assume I’d gone to university and like so many other kids never come back?

It’s not until I get into bed that I let the memories of the last few weeks I lived there flood my mind. How Dad refused to let Mum take me to the hospital, that I was locked in my bedroom with only my mum to help me clean the wounds, doped up on the diazepam the doctor prescribed for her. More than a handful of scars cover the front of my torso, and a mess of criss-cross scars on my back from the buckle are ugly and raised because they should’ve been stitched. As much as I refuse to be a victim, I’m more than a little conscious of them when I meet a guy I want to take to bed, keeping my shirt on as much as I can. Hook-ups and Grindr work best. There’s no need for questions.

By Friday, I’m ready to cancel the whole trip and stay far, far away from Devon, but Maeve is keeping me from backing out of the whole weekend.

“Jet, sweetie, it’s time to get this out of your system. Plus, you know this practice is perfect for you. It’s been so long I doubt people will recognise you. And if they do, that’s not a bad thing. If you want to do this, having people you know around you will be fun.”

“When did you get so wise?”

I laugh and wrap my arms around her shoulders. Thankfully, the queue for boarding is short, and we board quickly. The flight takes less than two hours, so we should be at the house Maeve found by about seven o’clock.

“Do you need your satnav? I thought you’d know the way,”

Maeve asks as I put the address in the rental BMW’s GPS.

“There are bound to be new roads and layouts. I can’t be arsed with getting lost. I want a beer and something to eat. Have you got the code for the key to the house?”

“No, the guy said he’d meet us there. He lives in the town.”

She makes herself comfy in the leather seat. “I approve of your choice of car.”

Chuckling, I drive out of the car hire’s car park. “That’s good to know.”

Maeve looks at the scenery, commenting on how different it is from the Scottish countryside. I’m too busy trying not to get worked up before I get to the house. As I drive into the town that was my home for eighteen years, it’s hard not to cry. I’ve missed being here. The scent of the sea immediately acts as a time machine, and I’m transported back to where it all started, with one man, one person I’ve never been able to forget. I’ve never found a connection with another as much as I did with him all those years ago. Is he even still here, or has he left, found a new place to be himself? That was all both of us wanted. Would I recognise him? Would he recognise me? I’m a different man at thirty-three than I was at eighteen. I was merely a boy then. He’ll be forty now, but I doubt he’s lost his looks.

“We’re here, hon. Do you want to sort out the house?”

She pulls out her phone and searches for the contact number. It rings a couple of times. “Hi, is that Ivan?”

I don’t listen to anything else. All I can think of is the kid I knew at school. Will he recognise me?