Page 73 of Sparring Partners
“Because it’s not here, with me. It’s as simple as that.” Adrian smiled. It was tremulous, it was weary, it was small, but it was there and after the storm they’d endured, it was enough.
No place would have been right for him, no place other than the one where he was now. It had been a fraught journey, strewn with the debris of the past, which had tripped them up and made them stumble. Now, they were in the place they were meant to be. Beaten and battered, maybe, and more than a little bruised. But they would heal and grow stronger as they took their first steps into their future.
Luca’s eyes drifted to a close as Adrian’s arms tightened around him, a smile lifting his lips as he tumbled into sleep.
They still had a long road ahead of them, but they would travel it together.
EPILOGUE
NINE MONTHS LATER
Luca stood in the utility room doorway, looking out over the farm, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. Lifting it to his lips, he breathed in deeply. Not fragrant Earl Grey, but full on Builder’s, so dark it could have been coffee. He took a sip and sighed. So much better than the weak as gnats stuff in Spain. Alex should have warned him it was all he had in stock in the beautiful hilltop villa’s kitchen. It was his second mug of the morning, which for him was barely an hour old, but it wouldn’t be the last.
A free day, after getting home late the night before, before returning to work at The New House.Home. The word sounded good, but more than that, it sounded right. Ladywell Farm had been his home for the last nine months, and it would be his home for all the years to come.
A querulous bleat snagged his attention. Luca couldn’t help the quiet laugh that bubbled on his lips, as an undersized and somewhat ratty looking sheep hobbled towards him on three and a bit legs.
“Hello, Tyson.” Luca produced the carrot he had ready, poking out from the hip pocket of his jeans, and offered it up. If the little sheep could talk, he’d have asked what the hell that knobbly, orange obscenity was. Be he couldn’t, so he gobbled it up then accepted the scratch on the top of his head as though it were his due, before he lurched off to sit in the weak early morning sunshine with Spud.
Luca smiled as he went inside and closed the door, another mug of tea calling. Tyson, or ‘that daft wool ball’ as Adrian called him, was the only sheep left from the small flock, the rest having been sold. Nobody had offered to buy Tyson, because he hadn’t been for sale. The daft wool ball was as much a pet as Spud was, even if Adrian refused to admit it. The field where the flock had grazed was now covered in polytunnels. With business booming, Adrian had needed it.
The rattle of a door opening, and a bang when it closed, was accompanied by two voices engaged in a good natured argument. As late as they’d arrived home the night before, Adrian had been up just as dawn broke, eager to check everything over, eager to make sure Harry hadn’t burnt down half the place, or destroyed the salad crops. Harry, of course, had done neither.
Luca threw bacon and sausages into the frying pan, and cut thick slices of sourdough bread to toast. The topic had been rumbling, on and off, for weeks, and Luca was on Harry’s side of the argument.
“Luca, will you tell him? We’re busy enough as it is, with the extra land under cultivation. The last thing we need is to open a bloody camping site.” Adrian’s grumble couldn’t disguise the good humour in his voice.
“Glamping. It’s called glamping. It’s good business sense. Those places make loads of money. You can charge hundreds of pounds a week in the high season.”
“My profession’s farming, not running a holiday camp.”
“Harry’s right, and you should give it some serious thought. March to October, it’s a long season and in this part of the country you can charge top rates. Diversification?—”
“I know what diversification is,” Adrian grumbled.
“Would be a good second income stream, and you’ve got the space to do it. There are always hoops to jump through with the local authorities, and there’s the investment to set it all up, but if you have the right contacts, it’s not as much as you might think. I know some people we could talk to. Start small and build up. Harry could run it.” Luca caught Harry’s eye, and they smiled at each other.
Adrian narrowed his eyes, as he looked from one to the other, before his gaze settled on Luca. “Have you been plotting with this one?” Adrian jabbed his thumb at Harry, who was now getting the kettle on, and throwing tea bags into an old brown teapot.
“We may have had a few discussions. Strictly informal of course.”
“Discussions?” Adrian took slow steps towards him, a hunter stalking his prey. A shiver skittered up Luca’s spine.
“Well, I’ll be havingdiscussionswithyou. Later. Very full and frank ones. In private,” he added, his voice dropping.
Luca swallowed, and Adrian smiled, slow and dark.
“Got any biscuits? Or cake? If I have to wait for my fry up, I’ll die of hunger.” Harry rummaged around, muttering about Hobnobs and lemon drizzle.
Luca cleared his throat. “No. We’ve not been here, remember?” Was that croak really him? Adrian’s shit eating grin told him it was. He quickly adjusted his fattening dick before Harry turned around and stomped over to the kitchen table with the teapot.
“A posh Spanish villa for a few days. All that sun. Sounds lovely. Must be nice to have a friend who’d lend you their holiday home just like that.”
Luca looked up at Adrian, and cocked his head to the side.
Adrian nodded, and smiled. “Yes, it is. Good friends are worth their weight in gold.”
“Glamping. Now, that’s where the gold is,” Harry said, dumping three teaspoons of sugar into his tea.
