Page 115 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
“Like a glass of wine?” Devan asked.
Did he have no idea that he’d made Jonty’s world turn so much faster? “Yes please.” Maybe getting a bit drunk would stop him feeling so…overwhelmed.
Devan put a glass of red wine in front of him. Jonty took two large swallows, then began to work. He’d watched Marcus cook fettucine alfredo, though Marcus had made his own pasta. Jonty filled a pan with water and set it to boil, then took another gulp of wine.
“How did you learn to cook?” Devan asked. “Using a recipe book for alcoholics?”
Jonty laughed. “Sometimes you’re really funny.” He took another drink of wine.
“Are you drunk already?”
“No. Not quite. I learnt to cook from a book my mum had. It was a tall, thin recipe book from the Be-Ro flour company. She used it all the time and when she’d…gone, I tried to make the things she’d baked. It was cakes and biscuits and scones mostly. When I was older, I progressed to things like spaghetti and stew and when my dad realised what I’d made tasted okay, he expected me to cook for us both. Sometimes, we had nice meals together. It wasn’t all bad.”
Jonty put the clotted cream, butter and cornflour into a pan and stirred it over a low heat.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Just admire my amazing technique.”
“I’m admiring the way you’ve polished off a large glass of wine.”
“Fuck!” Jonty stared at the empty glass. “I didn’t notice I was doing that.” Not true.
He tipped the cheese and nutmeg into a bowl, added a couple of grinds of black pepper and mixed it before returning to stir the creamy mixture on the hob.
“It’s going to be ready five minutes after I put the pasta in. Want to see if you can find some bowls and forks.”
Devan poured him another glass of wine, then started to check the cupboards.
By the time they sat at the table, half of Jonty’s wine was gone. Devan gave him a look but didn’t say anything.
“You might like more pepper.” Jonty turned the grinder over his bowl.
“It’s delicious.”
Since Devan had finished long before Jonty, Jonty guessed he was telling the truth. When Jonty finally put his fork down, Devan reached across the table and caught hold of his hand. “What’s the matter?”
What do we have here?
Am I hoping for the impossible?
“Worried about seeing my father tomorrow.” Not a lie, though not his greatest concern.
“You don’t have to see him if you don’t want to. I could ask him for your mother’s address. It’s possible that Stan could still find her without his help.”
“I want to see him. I want to see if he’s sorry.”
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” Devan pushed to his feet and cleared the table.
JONTY COULDN’T SLEEP. FANTASTIC, EXHAUSTINGsex and he still couldn’t sleep. All he could think about was visiting his father the next day, or more to the point, whether he should or not. He didn’t want to be weighed down with grief about a man who’d never really been a father to him, but this was their last chance.
Devan lay sleeping at his side and Jonty wanted so much to believe this was real, that they had a future. Maybe if he could find out where his mother was, he’d finally accept he could leave Northumberland. He should have accepted it long ago, but where would he have gone?
Then there was Tay.
Don’t stay here because of me. I’m not here anyway.
Jonty rolled over. Devan slid his arm around him and tugged him close. Devan’s breathing pattern didn’t change and Jonty thought he was still asleep.I’m safe.
