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Aleksey didn’t like these kinds of conversations. He’d spend his formative years before meeting Ben deciding for himself what he could or could not tolerate, control or have control him. Many of the yearswithBen, when he thought about it. But now he was bound in ways he had not been then. He understood that Ben needed his total commitment to their life together, and to have a shared life, he needed to have one himself: whole, healthy, and happy. He’d promised.
Still…
Ben began to draw patterns in the sweat on his back.
‘I hope that’s something nice. Anything but surrealism.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Someone must take the dogs out.’
‘Call someone then.’
‘You do know that tickles, yes?’
‘That’s partially why I do it. There, perfection.’
Aleksey rolled and squirmed and laughed as Ben tried to save his masterpiece. Finally Ben just plucked the cigarette away, tossed it in the fire and laid his head down on Aleksey’s chest. He sighed, yawned and fell asleep.
Aleksey watched the flames for a while.
Then he observed their effect on the ceiling.
Then he gazed into the embers as they died, tracing little patterns of glow which resembled the mantle’s marbled veins.
He couldn’t say he was troubled, despite the pain. He had his face lying next to Ben’s hair which smelt of the rain and the island, and he could not tell where Ben’s body began and his ended.
That’s just the way they were together.
* * *
The damage they discovered in the morning shocked them.
If there had been a tennis net, it was gone now. Possibly to Iceland.
Branches covered the sunken lawn, and the taller flowers such as the foxgloves and agapanthus lay lacklustre, bedraggled and mournful.
Their immediate concern was for the boat, so they retraced their route the previous day to the dock and mooring. There appeared to be no damage at all to the wooden shed or to the boat safely berthed inside it. The bay shimmered tranquil once more and only tiny waves lapped in on the stony beach.
The worst damage they discovered, as they did inventory of the island, was to the little shuttered pavilion. A tree had blown down upon it and caved in the domed roof. When they went in, they could see that the ceiling was damaged, one large branch having penetrated the interior almost down to the floor.
They forced the shutters open so they could bring some more light in and surveyed the damage. Aleksey didn’t want to leave it in its current state because given the amount of rain he suspected fell on this Atlantic island, the place would be entirely ruinous by the time they returned. Ben suggested fetching the tarps they’d used to cover the mattresses and Aleksey nodded. ‘Perhaps we could find some tools somewhere.’
‘That’s interesting.’ Tim was squinting up through the big hole in the ceiling. ‘It’s like a room up there, under the dome.’
Aleksey came towards him and peered up too. He felt a hand on his shoulder and then Ben hopped nimbly onto the branch, tested it for his weight and heaved himself into the roof space. Squeezy made to follow, but Aleksey laid a hand on his arm. ‘Wait. It may not take your weight as well.’
Ben glanced down at them. ‘Loads of stuff up here.’
‘How did…I mean…’ Tim frowned. ‘Why was it sealed off? Why—?’
‘—disguise the room?’ They realised Ben was right. There must once have been a hatch or opening from the pavilion into its small attic. But at some time this had apparently been boarded up and then painted over.Disguised.
Ben began passing things down.
There was a camera, but not like one any of them had seen before except in a museum. It had a sort of leather concertina between two wooden plates, one of which had a lens in it. ‘Do you think it’s worth anything?’ Ben sounded hopeful. Aleksey wanted to point out that it probably wouldn’t fetch as much as the island he’d just bought, no.
Next came down a wooden tripod and a couple of boxes, again leather, but lined with felt. They contained photographs.
