‘Let me take your coat,’ he says, and Adam struggles out of it. For some reason all the holes are in the wrong places but in the end he hands it over.
Leaf takes the coat. ‘Thank you.’ Then he lingers, tapping his finger on his chin. Adam waits politely, and then he understands.
‘Oh,’ Adam says. ‘You don’t know where the closet is.’
Leaf looks at Adam steadily. ‘No, I do not know where to hang it.’ He peers around the room for a moment then gives up and puts Adam’s coat over his own shoulders. Adam’s worn-out jacket no longer looks shabby but romantic, settled about Leaf’s lean frame. ‘Let’s go to the veranda.’
‘Uh,’ Adam feels awkward. ‘What am I supposed to – can you show me the work?’
Leaf looks at Adam with interest. ‘Ok.’ He leads Adam to the far side of the hall, where there is a hatch door. He opens it. A dumb waiter shaft yawns black. It makes Adam think of stewed greens and sorrow. He feels like he catches a whiff of those things, ghosts on the air.
‘There was an apple farm here once,’ Leaf says. ‘We used the foundations for Nowhere House. It’s difficult building up here. You have to blast into the rock. Anyway, I thought since this shaft runs all the way up the house, we could put it in here.’
Adam waits. He isn’t good at everything but he can tell when people aren’t finished talking.
‘I want a staircase.’ Leaf’s words seem to come with physical difficulty. ‘One that runs all the way up the house. And it has to have places where you can … look into the rooms. Cameras are no good, the mountain messes with the signal.’
‘You want to spy on people?’
‘Yeah. I mean, no. I have problems with guests.’ Leaf scrubs his face, which is suddenly weary. ‘Not everyone is a friend. I always forget. They steal things. They take photographs of my bedroom and sell them. I need help.’ Leaf swipes a hand over his eyes but not before Adam sees the tears there. ‘I’m sorry. I get how it sounds. This is not your problem.’
Adam closes his eyes – better not watch himself do this, it’s insane – and puts his hand over Leaf’s. Leaf grips it. His other hand clamps down on Adam’s like iron, crushing.
Adam makes an ‘ah’ sound.
‘I’m sorry.’ Leaf lets go. ‘I really hurt you.’
Adam can’t think what to say. He holds his throbbing hand.
Leaf holds out Adam’s coat. ‘I didn’t mean to,’ he says quietly. ‘I’m sorry. You’ll want to leave, now.’
Adam doesn’t reach for the coat. He looks at the walls, the height of the house, imagines its inner life. ‘You could use the dumb waiter to create a false wall against this side of the atrium,’ he says slowly. ‘Hide the door with a bookcase that opens into the shaft. Put a spiral staircase in it which goes up through the storeys, ending in your suite.’
‘Ok.’ The tips of Leaf’s ears are red.
Adam takes his coat from Leaf’s hands and drapes it carefully over the back of the vast linen couch.
‘So you can do it?’ Leaf asks.
‘Maybe,’ Adam says. ‘I don’t know yet.’
‘Let’s go outdoors,’ Leaf says. ‘Everything is better outside.’
Adam follows Leaf’s straight back through sunlit hallways. He stares at the man’s shoulder blades, the glimpse of neck beneath his dark hair. Adam wonders if Leaf rides the carousel alone, sometimes. He pictures him alone at the top of the Ferris wheel, surrounded by sky, the child shining out of his eyes. For a moment an image crawls into his mind, of Leaf and him together on the Ferris wheel, talking, side by side.
Adam catches his toe in a fold of the soft wool runner that spreads along the corridor. He stumbles, nearly falls, but doesn’t. A firm hand catches him. When he looks up his eyes meet Leaf’s.
‘You ok?’ Leaf asks. Adam blushes, something he hasn’t done for years.
‘Yeah,’ he says, distant.
They come into a long gallery, sunlit. ‘Cool jukebox,’ Adam says. Anything to shift focus. It’s beautiful and neon, flush against the wall. He can tell it’s expensive, vintage.
‘It’s bust,’ says Leaf, rolling his eyes. ‘I got ripped off. Doesn’t work.’
They sit on the side porch looking out over a gentle rise of green. White crosses stand upright at intervals. The sinking sun makes a narrow stripe of gold on the hills.
‘What’s your girlfriend like?’ Leaf takes a thin pack from his pocket, which produces an impossibly thin cigarette. The light flares on his face, for a moment he is clear in the narrow Zippo flame.
