In an effort to distract himself, he decided to take a hot shower, but as he stood under the water, staring up at the showerhead, thoughts of a handsome, muscular, bare-chested horseman kept riding into his mind. Instead of fighting the vision, he gave in and allowed his overused right hand to bring about much-needed relief, hoping the expurgation might clear his mind of further unsavoury thoughts.
After the shower, with a towel wrapped around his waist and hands gripping either side of the washbasin, he stared at himself in the mirror, realising he needed a shave. Once he had finished the ritual, he heard the approach of a car. At the sound, his heart did a tap dance until he stared hard into the mirror and lectured himself to get a grip and get dressed.
Moving through the empty kitchen, Trevor could already see the signs of Mrs M’s preparation and smell the aromas of the evening’s dinner. If nothing else, tonight’s meal would be memorable for Rudy.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled open the front door to the handsomely grinning Rudy, who had just arrived on the doorstep with carrier bags of unknown goodies. Despite the unflattering blue Barbour, which had seen better days, the tight denim jeans and body-hugging turtleneck sweater of grey wool that he wore accentuated his muscular form. Trevor tore his gaze away but then had to look instead into those fathomless green eyes. Swallowing hard, he hoped the warmth climbing his neck didn’t show.
“Hey there, mate,” said Trevor, far too upbeat, fixing a smile in place. Mate? the little voice inside enquired. Had he suddenly become Australian during the past few hours of mental turmoil? Fortunately, Rudy didn’t seem to notice.
“Hi, Trev,” he said. “Something smells nice. I’d give you a hug but my hands are full. You okay? You’ve got a wee bit of colour in your cheeks there.”
Trevor continued to smile tightly, even though Little Trevor inside his head had just curled into a ball and rolled away into a corner.
“Do I? Just had a shower,” he said, thinking on his feet. “Probably a bit too hot. And stayed under a bit too long. Hence the colour—you know? Come on in. Let me get you something to drink.”
Over a bottle of beer each, they sat at the kitchen table while Rudy told a nodding and smiling Trevor about his day. He explained how their old housekeeper, Millie, and her husband, Tam, kept everything ticking over while his parents were away. And how his mother and father had called to say they’d booked their flights and would be back the day before New Year’s Eve. In turn, Trevor managed to get Rudy quickly up to speed with more information about their guests, to which Rudy listened carefully without comment. Rudy wanted to know why the blinds in the kitchen had been closed. Trevor hadn’t really noticed but guessed that Mrs M preferred to keep them that way in the evening, preferred to keep the atmosphere cosy. After all, he said, there wasn’t much of a view over the rear car park. Right on cue, Mrs M entered the kitchen before anyone else, probably to check on dinner, and Trevor finally managed to breathe normally. Her smile gave her away the moment she spotted Rudy seated across the table from him.
“Rudy,” she said, going over and patting his shoulder before heading to the oven. “Trevor told me you were coming. You’re more than welcome at our table tonight, to celebrate Christmas Eve with us. And if anybody gives you any trouble, you just call me over. Okay?”
“Okay,” said Rudy before looking bemusedly at Trevor.
“Get you a drink, Mrs M?” asked Trevor, trying to divert the conversation.
“Let me get this veggie dish into the wall oven first. Away from us meat-lovers’ main event.”
“Is that some kind of pie, Brenda?” asked Rudy, who had turned to watch.
“Vegetarian moussaka.”
“How many of you are vegetarian?”
“Just her ladyship. Mary,” said Mrs M, closing the oven door.
“All that for one person?”
“I’m sure if you ask her, she’ll let you have some,” said Trevor, grinning at Mrs M. “What do you think, Mrs M?”
“You can ask, but I wouldn’t hold your breath,” muttered Mrs M, with a phrase she clearly enjoyed using.
Rudy tipped his head back and laughed, the sound infectious and setting Mrs M off chuckling. For the first time that evening, Trevor laughed and some of the pressure he had been feeling melted away.
“Sounds like tonight’s going to be a whole heap of fun,” said Rudy, clinking his bottle with Trevor’s.
“What’s going to be a heap of fun?” came a familiar male voice from behind. “And who the hell are you?”
Karl strolled in and stopped at the head of the table, staring suspiciously at Rudy.
“This is Rudy Mortimer,” said Trevor. “Son of the owner. He’s joining us tonight.”
“As Trevor’s dinner date,” said Mrs M, still at the wall oven, her back to them.
When Rudy exchanged a curious glance with Trevor across the table, Trevor felt a fresh wave of heat rise up his neck. He managed a strained smile and a nervous, barely noticeable shake of the head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Karl go over to the tall fridge, rip the door open with a loud clang and stare at the collection of bottles of soft drinks, beers and wines inside.
“Is he now,” he said, as though to the contents inside. “And are the rest of us subsidising his meal?”
“Karl,” said Trevor, appalled at his ex’s words.
“I’m happy to contribute—” began Rudy.
