Page 81 of Animal Instincts
No. The caller ID glowed in the dark. James, not Joss.
“Hello,” Oliver croaked. His mouth and throat were sandpaper rough and although the living room was in darkness, just enough watery moonlight streamed through the window to outline the salty, half-eaten microwave dinner and the empty wine bottle.
“Have you had a bang on the head that’s knocked out whatever sense you had, or are you just a congenitally stupid fucker?”
Oliver rubbed his brow and the headache that was beginning to pound behind his eyes. He was slow and sluggish, but fast enough to recognise the coiled anger beneath James’ cut glass, upper class drawl.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Another lie to add to all the others.
An intake of breath, followed by a long, slow exhale. Was James smoking? Cigarettes were James’ safety valve, he’d once said. It was either that, or break somebody’s legs. Or worse.
“Perry and I saw Charles last night. He was in town on business. We had dinner. I’m sure you can guess what the prime topic of conversation was.”
“The upcoming summer fair? Apparently I’m one of the judges in the prettiest pet competition.”
“Don’t attempt to be funny, Oliver, because it really doesn’t suit you. Because none of what I heard made me laugh. What the fuck have you gone and done?”
Oliver recoiled at the icy anger in James’ voice, all the more searing for being quiet and measured. James, the former soldier, former senior policeman, now a civil servant, where he wassomething in the governmentwas a dangerous man to make an enemy of. Alone in the dark room, Oliver didn’t know if he could count on the man still being his friend.
“Joss is ambitious, and his ambitions will be more achievable elsewhere. He might not realise it, but I do. Encouraging him to look outwards was for his own good.” Oliver rubbed his brow harder. Could he sound any more pompous if he tried?
“Bollocks. I always knew you were uptight and awkward, stiff and starchy, too serious for your own good and afraid of life—”
“Thank you for that ringing endorsement, it’s good to know how you really see me.” Oliver scrunched his brow, as hard as a corrugated fence, and winced as a sharp pain pierced the back of his skull.
“Oh, you’re all that and more,” James said airily. “I could go on. Would you like me to? But beneath all that, when you let it shine through, there’s a heart that’s kind and loving and loyal. That’s the man who’s my friend, not this self-righteous arsehole I hardly recognise. For god’s sake, Oliver.” James’ voice dropped, losing its brittle edge. “What happened? And don’t give me theI did it for himcrap. What scared you off, what made you back away from the best thing that’s ever happened to you?”
The silence and darkness wrapped themselves around Oliver. There was nothing but the here and now, everything had shrunk down to this point, a confessional where he was being asked to admit to his sins.
“Oliver?” James’ voice was low and inviting. “Has what’s happened got anything to do with Spencer and Donald showing up?”
“How do you…?”
But of course James would know. Oliver had learned enough about Love’s Harbour to know secrets were hard things to keep. What had Joss called the informal web of news and gossip that wound its ways around the village? The faintest of smiles lifted his lips. The Grannies’ Grapevine.
“I see. What poison did Spencer drip into your ear? Hmm, let me hazard a guess. Perhaps he alluded to Joss being your employee? And maybe the age difference? I’m right, aren’t I?” Another deep breath, another deep draw on a cigarette.
Oliver’s grip on his mobile tightened. He was still only a beat away from being hammered into a pulp by James, even if it was only verbal.
“Yes, Spencer came to see me—”
“And you didn’t kick him out on his arse? Jesus, Oliver, you’re a fool. He’s like a fucking vampire, you invite him over the threshold and he latches on and sucks you dry. Why the fuck did you—?”
James stopped, hard and sudden, the silence heavy and thick. For a moment Oliver thought they’d been cut off, but when James spoke his words were cautious and unsure.
“You don’t still have feelings for him, do you? Is that why you—”
“No!” Oliver burst out; the denial shot from his mouth like a bullet. “I never want to see or hear from him again. I don’t give a damn what he does, as long as it’s away from me. For god’s sake, James, how could you even think a thing like that?”
Oliver crumpled back into the sofa, the outburst exhausting him. The idea of him and Spencer together, it made his flesh crawl.
On the other end of the line, James laughed, but it was edged with hysteria.
“Thank fuck for that. Bloody hell, Oliver, you had me worried there for a moment.”
“Don’t be.”
Another moment of silence, before James spoke.
