Page 55 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
“Christ, Jonty.” Devan was horrified.
“I had to tell the doctors I’d been beaten up by a gang of lads I’d never seen before and wouldn’t recognise again. I said I’d curled up in a ball and closed my eyes while they laid into me. That last part was true. I did curl up and close my eyes. I let it happen, because there was nothing I could do to stop it. I already told you I was in hospital for five days. Well, the police searched for people who didn’t exist. One of those policemen was my father. He wasn’t supposed to be looking, but I guess righteous indignation went down well with his mates.”
“Oh shit.” Devan wrapped his arms around him. “You deserved better than that.”
Jonty clutched him. “He made me think I didn’t. Continually rammed it home that it was my fault my mother and sister had gone. That no son of his would be gay. He wouldn’t allow it. Once I’d recovered, the beatings resumed. Not too violent. Just smacks around the head. A belt on the backside. Eventually, my behaviour changed enough that my teachers started to ask more questions. Why was I silent? Why was I missing games again? Bruiseswerefinally noticed after a particularly vicious kicking when my dad broke my arm, a couple of ribs, and a bone in my back, and the head got social services involved. My dad was sent to prison and served a year, all the time protesting his innocence, saying it was my boyfriend who’d done it. I didn’t have a boyfriend. No way would I have dared.”
“Did anyone believe him?”
“Some did, but he was known for having a temper when he was drunk, so… At fifteen, I ended up in a different sort of prison. A care home run by people who didn’t give a fuck. A year later, I was able to move into a place of my own, and I got a job in a kitchen washing dishes, followed that with cleaning caravans in a holiday park, then I worked for a company that did pressure washing at commercial and domestic properties. They went under. I cleaned at the hotel, then got the job as night manager. The hotel saved my life. Oh God. You’ve let me keep talking. I didn’t mean to tell you all that.”
Devan pressed his face against Jonty’s hair. He thought he was beginning to understand Jonty a little better, the reason he resorted to humour, the reason he seemed immature, the reason he understood the world better than a twenty-five-year-old should.
“I didn’t mean to tell you about Ravi and my brother. Your story was far worse.”
“I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. Or better.”
“If your father was here right now, I’d punch him. If your mother was here, I’d ask her how the fuck she could walk away from you.”
“If your brother was here, I’d kick his arse. If your ex was here, I’d ask him how the fuck could he do that to you, and then he’d get his arse kicked too.”
They smiled at each other.
Devan took Jonty’s hand and they kept walking. “I’ve never talked so much to anyone about how I feel about Ravi and my brother.”
“I’m not sure you’ve talked to me about it really. Just said that you’re angry, while I think you’re sad. Would you have Ravi back?”
“No.”
“Not if he said how sorry he was, how much of a mistake he’d made, what a knobhead he’d been, how he’d do anything for your forgiveness—including that thing with his tongue that drives you nuts?”
Devan chuckled. “Not even if he said that.” He sucked his cheeks. “It was such a fucking waste of two years.”
“That’s not the way to look at it. It might have occupied two years of your life, but it wasn’t all bad, was it? Or you wouldn’t have stayed together, wouldn’t have planned to marry. You must have loved him, had fun times.”
“It’s hard to remember anything good about him.”
“Not hard. You just don’t want to and that’s fair enough. Because of what he did, you can’t trust your memories, but you should keep hold of the knowledge that you did love him, once upon a time.
“And maybe now, you at least know what youdon’twant. Plus remember: your brother is going to have to put up with all the shit you didn’t like. That should make you deliriously happy. Did your ex leave his socks on the floor to magically make their own way to the laundry bin? Cut his nails in the sink? Put his cold feet on you in bed? Fart the National Anthem as his party trick? Paddle you too hard? Call you Daddy when you were fucking?”
“Stop right there.”
Jonty stopped walking and Devan sighed.
“Oh, you want me to stop talking?” Jonty started walking again.
“Can you?”
The silence lasted no more than a few seconds.
“No. I’m sorry if I trivialised your relationship. That wasn’t kind.”
“Maybe I need some hard truths. Therewerethings about Ravi that annoyed me.”
“But you loved him. Don’t forget that. Don’t throw it away. Remember the good times, but also remember that he didn’t deserve you. What are you doing tomorrow? Because I’m not due back at work until Saturday night. If you like, I could be your personal tour guide. This area is brilliant if you’re a Harry Potter fan. Or I can take you to see the rarest cows in the world, because you look like a guy who’d be impressed by wild cows. Or out on a boat to sing to the whales with an expert tutor. Or horse riding. Or we could go surfing if the surf’s up.”
“Your change in direction…” He laughed. “I have some business to deal with in the morning, but after that, yes. Shall I pick you up?”
