Page 39 of Oz (Finding Home #1)

Chapter

Seventeen

Be my Oz again, because that Oz is utterly perfect to me the way he is

Silas

The sea pounds onto the sand of the cove and I exhale in satisfaction, lying back and resting my head on my jumper. “I love this place.”

“Me too,” Henry murmurs.

I crack one eye open. He’s staring out to sea, his expression contemplative.

“What’s up?” I ask, coming up onto my elbows.

He shoots me a grin. “I love you,” he says affectionately.

I smile at him, feeling warmth run through me for this brother of mine. Quirky and funny and kind. “I love you too. What brought that on?”

He shrugs and stares back out to sea again. “Memories, I suppose. Brought on by being here.”

I sigh. “It wasn’t the place’s fault, Henry. We just had shitty people for parents.”

“I know that,” he protests. “I also know how much you love it here.”

“I do,” I say simply. “It’s home.”

“I know, and I’m so cross with you.”

“ What ?” I sit up. “Why, for fuck’s sake?”

“Because you’re tied here. How on earth are you going to have a life with all of Dad’s shit piling up around you? I’m so fucking angry that you didn’t tell me.”

“How did you know?” I hesitate. “Did Oz tell you?”

He huffs. “No, of course he didn’t. As if he’d let anything slip that’s private to you. Mother took a lot of pleasure telling me over breakfast this morning.”

“Shit!”

“Oh, you can say that again and do better. How could you not tell me about the mess he left us in?”

“Me,” I correct gently.

He sighs heavily and crossly. “No. It’s us , Silas.

I might not want anything to do with this place particularly.

My home’s with Ivo. But I do want something to do with you and I’d really rather you didn’t work and worry yourself into a fucking early grave like he did.

I love you and I want you around.” He glares at me.

“I’m giving you back the money you gave me after father’s death. ”

I jerk. “You are fucking not. That’s yours.”

“He didn’t leave it to me.”

“Well, that’s because he was a wanker. It’s yours and that’s an end to it.”

“Oh, Silas, I love how you think your word is law.” He shakes his head. “It isn’t.” He holds up a hand to stem the flow. “No. It’s non-negotiable. I’ve never used it. It’s just been sitting in my bank account gathering dust.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s tainted. It should go to help here. It’ll make me very happy to know it’s paid a bill. Then I can stick two fingers up at the old tosser because he hasn’t fucked us over.”

“He won’t,” I say urgently. “We’ve got it under control.”

“Who’s we?”

“Me and Oz, of course.”

A smile ticks his mouth. “Oh, of course. You and Oz.”

I can’t figure out his mood. “Don’t you like him?” I ask, and I’m absolutely astonished when he starts to laugh. “ Henry ,” I warn.

He stops laughing and slings his arm around my shoulder, kissing my forehead. “I adore him,” he says quietly. “Absolutely and utterly. He’s perfect.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say perfect,” I mutter.

“Perfect for you,” he whispers. He drops his arm and we stare out to sea. If someone had left a camera filming this beach during our childhood and adolescence, at some point every day our figures would have appeared and done exactly this. Stared out to sea, laughed and talked.

“I was worried about you,” he mutters, and I jerk.

“Why?”

“Because you never had anyone of your own.”

“I’ve had lots of anyones.”

“But now you’ve got a someone,” he says solemnly. “And it’s right.”

I sigh. “You do know he’s going back in a few weeks? His job is nearly done. He’ll go back to London because that’s where he belongs.”

“He belongs here with you,” he says fiercely. “I always worried because we know from firsthand experience that Ashworth partners don’t seem to adapt well to living here.”

“That’s an understatement,” I mutter.

“But I’m not worried now. He belongs here as if he was made for this place and it was waiting for him. He’s just at home.”

“I know,” I say low. “But I can’t make him stay and he always said this was just for the summer.

I think he’s close to admitting that he feels something for me, but he’s gun shy to say the least and I can’t push.

” I shrug. “It’s hard because I want to grab him and force him to see how right we are together, but that would send him scurrying back to London quicker than Dick fucking Whittington.

I don’t think your welcome to the family comment last night went down too well either. ”

“Shit!” He sighs. “I didn’t mean that. It just came out.”

“Well, zip it back up again and don’t say things like that. Save the honesty about feelings for your boyfriend.”

He snorts but then sobers. “Do you love him?”

“Of course,” I say, and I can hear the astonishment in my voice.

“Then it will all be okay,” he says peacefully.

I stare at the side of his face which is reddening slightly with a blush. “Henry, tell me it isn’t true. Have you become a romantic?” I enquire in an astonished voice.

“Oh, fuck off,” he says sourly. He shrugs. “I just believe in love more now that I’m in it.”

I shake my head. “Come what, come may.”

He shoves me. “Okay there, Shakespeare. I’ll take your very fatalistic words to heart.” He shakes his head. “Just be careful. Shakespeare didn’t know Mother. If he had, his plays would have been a mega fuckton darker. Keep her away from Oz because I think she could hurt your chances.”

Oz

Richard Ashcroft’s A Song for the Lovers is playing on my iPod, the moody song seeming to twine itself around the shadows of twilight in the room.

I stare at myself in the huge old mirror on Silas’s bedroom wall and wrinkle my nose.

I twist around and check the back. Then I face forwards and sigh again before shrugging.

I look down at Chewwy, who’s watching me with a fairly jaundiced air. “It’ll have to do,” I say to him, and he sighs heavily before jumping onto the sofa and settling down as if he’s been walking for hours rather than sitting in the visitor’s centre with a bone.

The door opens with a click and Silas appears. “You alright?” he asks.

“I am now,” I sigh. “Look at you.”

Silas is built for a dinner suit. His wide shoulders stretch the black material perfectly and the trousers show off the long length of his legs. His hair glows dark in the low light. His face is tanned and his eyes a clear sparkling green.

He strikes a model pose, sucking in his cheeks and looking sulky, and I laugh. “No. Just no. You look pissed.”

He grins and reverts back to normal until a strange look comes over his face.

“What’s the matter?” I ask alarmed as he comes towards me and grabs my shoulders gently to hold me at arm’s length. He sends an intense look down my body and I squirm. “What is it? Do I look wrong? It’s the first time I’ve worn a dinner suit.”

He flicks me a searing look. “You look amazing but you’re missing something.”

“Oh my God, have I got to wear a sash or something?”

He smiles but it fades quickly. “Where’s your nail varnish and eyeliner?”

I shrug. “It’s not appropriate for this. I’ll embarrass you.”

“What the fuck ?” he breathes. “Where has that come from?”

“Well, your mother said–”

He breathes in deeply and flashes his teeth in a very dark smile. “What did she say?”

“Oh, she didn’t say anything horrible,” I interject quickly. I don’t need him roaring off and falling out with her. “She just spoke about all the important people coming tonight.”

I’m telling the truth. She’s never said a horrible word to me, but all day I’ve felt her eyes on me.

Judging and weighing me up and finding me wanting in everything I did.

The staff weren’t being managed properly and poor dear Silas needed his peace of mind.

Was I really considering using candles in the gift shop from a woman on a council estate when there was a very posh candlemaker down the road she’d been at school with?

On and on. Little jibes and digs that have left me feeling … unsure. Yes. I admit it. For the first time in my life I don’t know if I’m doing right. I’ve always been so sure, so focused on myself. But now I have Silas and he means more than … I stop that chain of thought immediately.

I sigh. “I just don’t want to humiliate you and make you a laughing stock.”

For a long second there’s silence in the room and then he moves over to the table and rummages through the drawer. “Okay, come here,” he says sharply.

“What?”

He gestures. “Come here, darling.”

“I don’t know why you’re calling me–”

“I want you to come and sit down here,” he interrupts, and I huff slightly before drifting over and settling on the chair he indicates.

“What are you going to do?” I ask and then grin as he lowers himself to his knees in front of me. “Oh, okay, I am fully on board with that,” I murmur and start to unzip my fly.

I stop when he puts his hand over mine. “Lovely as that idea is, I have something else in mind.” He opens his hand to show me the small bottle in his large palm.

I swallow hard and look up. “What are you doing?”

“I am going to paint your nails,” he says in a voice that has outrage and fierceness running through it.

“Because I will not have you fucking eve r muting even a millimetre of your personality to suit anyone.” He glares at me.

“Then you are going to outline those pretty eyes and you are going to put your fucking combat boots on with this dinner suit and be my Oz again, because that Oz is utterly perfect to me the way he is.” He takes a breath.

“Now hold out your hand. I can’t claim to be an expert at this and you’ll probably look a tit, but at least you’ll look yourself again. ”

He bends over my hands, the sweet scent of his shampoo wafting around me. His hair shines and his eyes are intent and focused as his large fingers paint black sparkly polish very badly onto my nails.