Page 27 of Asking For a Friend

The line goes quiet, and I know this time that he’s ended the call. I drop my phone on my bed and squeeze my eyes tight shut. My breathing is heavy, making my chest rise and fall with jerky movements. Why now? Where’s he been? What has he done?

Nothing stops the image of the boy I knew all those years ago from swimming in front of my eyes. For years I’ve tried to search for the elusive catalyst that had sent him running. If I didn’t know then, why should I be able to work it out now?

Perhaps it’s guilt that I haven’t thought of him for years. Has he thought of me? Am I the first person he’s reached out to? Has he spoken to our parents? That I seriously doubt. They were probably the reason he ran in the first place.

Regardless of his ‘just come on up’ comment, I give my name to the reception desk and my reason for visiting. The young lady promises to inform my brother of my arrival. The lift doesn’t take long enough for me to compose myself, nor does Rory standing at the open door to his suite as I exit. He’s only three years older than me. When he left, he was so young, a boy, really, but now he looks so grown up, mature. A man who has made it. Wealth drips off him from his haircut to his handmade leather shoes.

“What did you do? Rob a bank?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. His skin is deeply tanned as if he spends all his time in the sunshine. Crow’s feet line the corners of his eyes. From laughter or peering into the sun?

He raises his arms as if he wants to give me a hug, then drops them again and gestures for me to enter. “Come on in. I’ve ordered some lunch for us.”

I follow him through into the lounge. For a moment, he looks at a loss among the grand furnishings and is muttering as if he’s giving himself a pep talk. “Jesus, Rory, if you haven’t done anything illegal, then quit sweating. Or maybe you’re a spy? MI5, perhaps.”

“God, your imagination works in weird ways. And no to a spy. I’m in the building trade.” Again, he’s being illusive.

“Let me guess. Villas in Spain for retired ex-pats.”

“Close but no. Dubai, and corporate high-rise and hotels.”

“Wow.” A knock on the door stops any more questions. An attendant wheels in lunch and sets it up on the dining table. As Rory gives the man a tip, I sit down. I wait until the door closes behind him. “Why are you here? What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I’m here to look for somewhere to live. I’m getting married in the new year and want a base here. It won’t be easy for us in Dubai.”

“Congratulations. Is your fiancée here? Do I get to meet her?”

He gives me a look that implies I’m stupidly missing something vital. Oh, shit. My shock must be written on my face because he lets out a dry, wry cough.

“She’s a he, right?”

“Yes, his name is Lais. He’s come with me but has gone out to do some shopping. He thought it best we met alone.” The love Rory has for his fiancé is glowing in his eyes.

“You’re bi, then?”

“If we have to label it, then yes.”

I have to know why, why he left and never spoke to me again. “Why did you do it, Rory?”

He stills, halting the coffee pot. “I had no choice. They told me if I left school without finishing my A levels, then I wasn’t to come home again. Dad insisted I go to university to get my degree and join him. But I knew I was going to fail my exams. I didn’t give a shit about them. And working with him would’ve suffocated me. I was never going to live up to his expectations, and I told him as much. He didn’t back down, which meant I left.”

“But what about me? You should’ve told me. You should’ve kept in touch. They never mentioned you again. I wouldn’t let it drop. I kept on and on asking about you. I searched for you and nothing. You disappeared. I hated you for that.”

“Do you still? Hate me?”

I shake my head. “Honestly, Rory, I stopped thinking about you. You left. You didn’t want me in your life, so I pushed you to the back of my mind and have rarely given you a thought.” I want this to hurt him because he looks as if he’s had a fucking ball making more money than anyone ever needs.

“Fair enough. I’m truly sorry for cutting you out of my life. It was selfish and cruel. I thought you’d be okay. You never had the whole ‘oldest son’ bullshit I had. You were so laid back, you loved school, and you had great friends. I thought you’d hardly notice I was gone. You still had a few more years at school, away from them.”

“That’s just it, though, Rory. You didn’t think. Not of me, not if you’re completely honest. You just buggered off and left me with them. I wasn’t even allowed to mention your name. Mum would go all tight-lipped, and her eyes would fill with tears, and Dad would walk away from me, telling me to leave it. That you made your choice. He was waiting for you to come back, begging for forgiveness.”

By the time Lais comes back, we’ve stopped snapping back and forth at each other and cleared the air between us a little more. Lais is sweet and shy with me, but the love he has for my brother is evident.

He mentions all the places he wants to visit while he’s here, including the Lake District and the Cotswolds. I tell him about a wedding we’re organising for a couple next year in the heart of the Cotswolds.

“I’d very much like to visit. Could we go and look?” Lais claps his hands. “Perhaps we’ll find a place we like there. Please, Hesketh, will you come? I’d love your advice.”

Thirty minutes later, I find myself in my brother’s leased Range Rover, with Lais driving, and heading to Bourton-on-the-Water.

---