Page 26 of Hard Tail
“What, even at this time of year?” I was a bit concerned this might be a bit too much for me to handle.
“Well, it often takes a while to get going, and then sometimes we stop at a pub…”
I had a vision of a crowd of lycra-clad mountain bikers crashing through the forest trails getting progressively drunker until the word “crashing” became literally true. “Is that safe?”
“Oh—most of the lads ride out from home, so there’s no worry about drunk driving. And it’s the New Forest, not the Pennines. If you take a tumble, the landing’s usually pretty soft.”
That was…not quite as much of a relief as I’d hoped for. I made a snap decision to take the car for at least the first couple of times, so I’d have an excuse not to get wasted. “Okay, so these lights—do I need anything special?” Standard bike lights were more about being seen by cars than casting any actual useful light. I had a feeling cycling down a rough track in the total dark of the forest would require something a little more souped-up.
“Come out the front, and I’ll show you.” We trooped out to a thankfully customer-free shop—I’d been chatting out the back a little longer than I’d meant to—and went over to Jay’s bike light display. “You’ll need at least 250 lumens, but best to go a bit higher if you can afford it. The Exposure Toro is good and the 6 Pack is awesome. They’ll both do the job, and you won’t have to faff about with extra batteries and cables.”
Whilst a six-pack had long been on my list of desirable possessions, I’d always envisaged it as a set of really cut abs, not a type of bike light. I chose the Toro, in the end, trying not to wince at the price. Granted, it was bright enough—when I checked it out I saw coloured blobs in my vision for ages afterwards—but when did going for a bike ride get so expensive?
Looking at Matt’s enthusiastic smile, though, I couldn’t help feeling it was worth it.
***
I could have done with somewhere to go, Monday evening. Or at least something worth watching on telly. Like Jay, I had way too much time to think—and a vintage episode ofMidsomer Murdersjust wasn’t enough to distract me.
And like Jay, what I was thinking about was Matt. Although I seriously hoped Jay wasn’t thinking the same things I was thinking… No. Jay was straight. He’d said that, and I believed him, because Jay wasn’t the sort to lie about it. If he’d been gay, he’d have just come out and said so and assumed everyone would be okay with it. And him being Jay, they probably would have been.
Whereas if it was me… I frowned, scratching Wolverine idly on the top of his head. He showed me those pointy fangs in a tuna-scented yawn, and settled down even more heavily on my lap. At least we hadn’t had any repeats of the cat-sick incident, so I’d been able to have a proper meal tonight—if you could call it that when it came in a plastic tub covered in clear film, wrapped in a cardboard sleeve proudly proclaiming it contained one of my five a day. The pasta salad Matt had brought in for our lunch had been orders of magnitude tastier and, I suspected, healthier.
Would it really be different if it was me? Coming out as gay, that was. Was I just misjudging everyone? If I could imagine them accepting a gay Jay, which from the rhyming point of view alone had to be a situation nobody wanted, why couldn’t I imagine them accepting a gay Tim?
But what would be the point? My leg was getting pins and needles, and I tried to stretch it out while still weighed down with cat. Wolverine opened one eye and dug his claws lazily into my thigh in warning. I sighed and surrendered to the encroaching numbness as the lesser of two evils.
If I did come out, what would I do? Make a pass at Matt? Try and persuade him to dump Steve and come out with me? Because, let’s face it, I was such a bloody catch—still technically married, jobless, and, when the house sale went through, homeless. Not to mention having spent nearly thirty years cowering in the closet. And the grey pubes—mustn’t forget those. Oh, yes, he’d definitely prefer my neurotic self to the bloke with the house in the New Forest and hot-and-cold-running ponies.
And anyway, looked at from Matt’s point of view, trying to chat him up would actually be kind of insulting. Like I was just assuming that gay men were incapable of fidelity and moreover, permanently up for it with anyone who offered. Even a posh tosser who didn’t know his arse from his axle and was standing in for Matt’s boss, for Christ’s sake. I punched a sofa cushion in frustration.
Wolverine startled awake, ears pricked and tail twitching. I tensed, anticipating multiple puncture wounds in a sensitive area, but he merely fixed me with an exasperated glare and settled back down to sleep. “Are you going soft on me?” I asked, incredulous.
Either that or his stomach was still feeling too delicate for any major bloodbaths right now. I stroked his back rhythmically, all too aware it was more for my benefit than his. Embracing my inner poof would be a stupid idea, I thought with a sigh. Even if I accepted Matt wasn’t going to be mine and tried to find another bloke, what did I know about gay relationships? Or pulling a bloke in the first place, for that matter? It’d be pretty bloody ironic if I came out as gay and then totally failed to find a man who was interested in me.
I’d have changed my whole life, exposed myself to ridicule, for nothing.
On the TV, DCI Barnaby pursed his lips as he discovered the incestuous love affair that had sparked the whole sorry series of events in Badger’s Drift. Unconventional relationships, he seemed to say, never end well.
Was he right? Would it be madness to risk so much, with so little chance of happiness at the end of it all?
I didn’t know.
But at least then I wouldn’t have to spend the rest of my life knowing I was a coward and wondering what I was missing.
***
I woke up late on Tuesday morning after a bad night’s sleep with my hair sticking up in all directions and no time for a shower. Well, that solved the Matt question nicely. Clearly there was no chance of him ever fancying me once he’d seen what a god-awful state I woke up in. I flattened my hair down with a bit of water and watched morosely as it sprang straight back up again.
No wonder hats were so popular in years gone by. What I wouldn’t give for a stylish trilby or fedora right now. There was a beanie in Jay’s wardrobe, but it wasn’t quite the same. I pulled it on anyhow, hoping it might flatten my hair down. It made me look like a giant matchstick on legs, but I could always take it off before I went to the shop.
I reckoned I just about had time for a cup of coffee—if I didn’t feed the cat. “Nobody should have to deal with a moral dilemma like this first thing in the morning,” I groused, stumbling downstairs to the kitchen. Wolverine gave me a smug look as his breakfast hit his bowl, and I set off on my caffeine-deprived drive to the shop, snarling at anyone who dared to hold me up on the way.
I got there just a few minutes after we were supposed to open. Fortunately, there were no queues of impatient customers demanding their right to purchase a pump adaptor on the dot of nine thirty. Matt wasn’t there either. I wondered if his timekeeping was this erratic when Jay was around and decided it probably was. Matt didn’t seem the sort to take advantage of the boss being away—just the terminally disorganised sort. I smiled just thinking of him—there was something rather endearing about his scattiness.
By the time I’d switched on the till and filled it up with cash from the safe, noting we were getting short of change, Matt had finally arrived. I did a double take as he walked in the door. “Has Olivia talked you into collagen injections? Because I think you ought to ask for your money back.”
Matt smiled even more lopsidely than usual. “You mean this?” He touched his swollen lip with understandable caution, then crouched down to re-tie the laces of one of his trainers. “Hit a low branch out in the forest,” he explained to his feet.
