Page 1 of Tattoos and Tiaras
Prologue
Tewsbury, Thirty-Four Years Ago
The rain pelted down, turning the field into a quagmire. Mud coated the players' legs and torsos, but the game continued. My throat was hoarse from cheering, but I couldn't stop myself.
For the first time in years, Tewsbury looked to take the inter-county cup away from Middlesforth. I scanned the field and found who I was looking for. Ethan, mud-caked and gorgeous. How had I scored such a hot guy? The nerd and the school jock kind of sounded like one of those corny romance books my younger sister loved to read, only in them, the couple didn't have to hide who they were from everyone.
I was turning sixteen the next day, and Ethan had promised me a special surprise. I was hoping we were going to get to spend the day together, maybe even sneak off to the old lighthouse keeper’s cottage and spend the day making out. I may have been a little obsessed with kissing and touching. Once that genie had been let out of its very repressed bottle, there had been no turning back. I took every chance I could to be with Ethan, andhe felt the same. We were a couple of handsy, horny teenage boys, and it was fantastic.
We had a plan. Both of us were working towards our A levels, and once we'd passed and gotten our choice of university, we were going to leave our families behind and start an amazing life together. I was going to become a world-renowned surgeon, and he was going to become an architect to rival James Stirling. That was the plan, and we just had to survive school and our families for another couple of years.
Ethan must have sensed me watching him as he looked right in my direction and smiled. He gave a subtle hand wave, and my stomach gave a gentle flip, and my cheeks warmed as I watched him chase after the ball and kick it towards the goal.
The bench creaked as another person sat alongside me. I glanced and smirked at Cal. “You managed to skip out on detention?”
Cal shook his head, his long dark hair flying about as he did. “Nah, I still have to go after the match, but Principal Marsh said it was important for school morale that we all attend. Why the fuck do I want to watch a Rugby game?”
I looked up and checked that nobody was sitting close enough to overhear before I said, “Maybe to perv on the players?”
“You could be right. Fuck, I'd kill for a smoke, but fucking Marsh took my pack away, said he was going to have words with my mother about it.” Cal rolled his eyes, trying to pretend that he didn't dread his mum going off on one.
“She’s going to go spare. You were supposed to give those horrible things up. You promised,” I hissed.
“She'll yell at me and probably ground me.” Cal scratched his cheek, trying to look nonplussed by the whole thing, but I knew deep down he hated disappointing his mum.
I nodded. “She will, and I don't blame her.”
Cal shook his head and laughed gruffly, slinging an arm over my shoulder and knocking our heads together. “Already acting like the town doctor. Worry less about me and more about your boyfriend.” Cal pointed towards the pitch. “Looks like he's about to get clobbered by the other team's player.”
Oh, bloody hell. I turned just in time to see Ethan taken out by an underhanded player’s leg sweep.
“Umpire, what the fuck are you looking at? Send that player off, give him a red card,” I screamed at the top of my lungs, much to Cal's amusement.
“You’re a fucking dill, so much for playing it cool. There is no red card in rugby, it’s not football.” Cal snorted a laugh as he opened a pack of boiled sweets and passed one to me.
I shrugged, laughing. “What can I say? Love makes me stupid.”
My lips were still tingling from the kiss Ethan and I had snuck in the underpass before he'd headed up the lane towards his house. I still had to hike up the hill. My family had a home that sat on the edge of town overlooking the bay. The house hunched on the hill like some predatory bird. Nothing majestic like an eagle, more like a cranky buzzard. I pushed through the iron gates, following the path around the house to the kitchen entrance. If I were lucky, I could sneak a few cookies from Hilda, our housekeeper, then head upstairs before my mother caught wind I was home.
Cookies in hand, I took off my shoes and snuck down the hallway. I avoided the squeaky boards and let out a slow breath when I stepped onto the first step.
“Cullen Anthony, is that you?” Fuck. My mother’s voice rang out like a tolling bell. There was a tone in her voice that suggested she was angry. I contemplated bolting up the stairs and avoiding an argument until my father’s scowling face appeared from the sitting room.
“In here now.” My father’s large frame filled the hallway, the look on his face was thunderous. I took a step back as my father stepped forward. He roughly grabbed my arm and pulled me down the stairs, only his rough hold on me stopping me from toppling forward.
My father shoved me into the sitting room. My mother sat in her favourite high-backed chair while my sister, Anne, sat on the uncomfortable ruby red sofa we so hated.
When I moved to sit by my sister, my father yanked me towards the fireplace.
“Stand there.”
I risked glancing at my sister, and she shook her head, looking as confused as I was.
“What’s wrong?” I asked nervously, watching my father pace back and forth.
“What's wrong? He asks as if he doesn't know. As if he thought he could keep his dalliance with that Somerset lad a secret from us. It was bad enough you felt the need to befriend the tattooist's son and run around Tewsbury like a heathen, but this?” He glanced over at my mother, who had brought her hand to her throat, her eyes glistening.
“The shame you have brought on this house. You are nothing more than a degenerate homosexual.” He said the last word like it was poison, his grey-blue eyes blazing hotter than any fire.
