Aleksey grinned. ‘You have no use for a plane anyway. But I was thinking I would buy Ben a jet ski. And then I realised that such an activity is probably more fun for two. Then I admitted I would no more go on one of those things than I would a motorcycle, so I needed to find a complete moron who also did not seem to value his own life to by another one for. Then I remembered you.’
Squeezy laughed. ‘Well, no asylum sleepover then. I was fucking looking forward to that.’
They both snorted at exactly the same time. Squeezy punched his arm with just the right amount of force behind this to let the gesture land somewhere between love and hate, and then sauntered away, presumably to ensure his father, who was now out of sight in the green house, couldn’t tell too many of his baby stories to his boyfriend, something Aleksey suspected the moron had been dreading ever since being forced into this unveiling.
Snodgrass was showing Radulf and PB his basket, or the larger dogs were just helping themselves to all his scattered treats, it was hard to say, so feeling that things were going very well indeed, Aleksey took himself back to Guillemot, which now that the other two were here, he and Ben had to themselves for a while…
He couldn’t remember a time when he’d woken Ben for sex. It was always the other way around, but he was Lord of Light Island now.
And thems were the rules.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ben only discovered the next addition to Guillemot when he’d dragged himself reluctantly from their messy bed to cook some breakfast for everyone.
Aleksey directed him to the study, and there he found a large polished mahogany dining table, twelve chairs and a sideboard. The sun was streaming in through the mullioned windows of this room, one they’d really not used at all so far, but now, laid with the settings for the four of them, it seemed to accept its purpose with great pleasure.
With breakfast easily cooked on the new stove, he and Tim were reading papers and Ben was eating with his usual concentration and lack of breathing when Squeezy came in and tossed something at him. Aleksey laid down his paper and looked at the dog-eared school exercise book. Squeezy pointed at it. ‘Better be careful, boss. Witchcraft, if you ask me. Devil’s summoning and all that.’
‘This is what you found in the attic?’ He looked at it in disbelief. He hadn’t really believed it would be of equivalent interest as a pile of dust! He’d expected at least Nazi treasure or possibly even the crown jewels Wallace Simpson had absconded with. This is what he had made bets for? A plane versus this?
Squeezy sat down and helped himself to some fried bread and sausages. He pointed upwards with his knife. ‘Found it clearing out the second attic for Squirt, before we brought the horse down. Was under a floorboard. Made me think of that witchy place we went, you know, with the cats put under the floor as a ward.’
It was just a traditional school book with a marbled blue-veined cover and lined pages for essays or spelling tests or taking notes. It was decorated with hearts and a faded picture cut from a magazine of Elvis Presley.
He opened the cover. ‘Jenna Tregenza. I have a little girl’s school book. And you have been keeping this secret and using it as a bet whenever it suited you?’
Squeezy nodded gratefully, as if he’d been complimented. ‘Witch’s name, see. Knew you’d like it.’
Ben, who by this time had cleared a couple of platefuls, took up the jotter. He flicked through then tossed it back. ‘Foreign. Welsh.’
Aleksey opened it to some pages near the front. The lines had been filled in a relatively neat script, a slanting handwriting with some exaggerated swirls. Lots of hearts had been drawn in the margins of the page he was looking at which was headed15 Du 1964. He flicked a few pages further on.Kevardhu!Both of these headings had been neatly underlined.
‘Cornish more likely. Tregenza is a Cornish name. Tre means small settlement—as in Tre Huw.’
Ben twitched his nose. ‘Yeah. Okay. Makes more sense. What does it say then?’
‘I have no idea.’
Ben chuckled. ‘I bet your new girlfriend could translate it.’
Aleksey knew exactly whom he meant. Morwenna Eames, however, was the very last person he’d ask for anything. Even getting a book out of her in her bookshop had been excruciatingly painful.
Tim was frowning and staring at his boyfriend. Squeezy stopped chewing. ‘What have I done now?’
‘Oh, no. I was just thinking. I know that name. Jenna Tregenza. I’m trying to think where from.’
‘One of your terrorist cells?’ Squeezy went back to his breakfast, ignoring his boyfriend’s glare.
Aleksey tossed the book onto the sideboard, excessively annoyed by being outsmarted by the moron, a niggling irritant which was not helped by the idiot himself murmuring, ‘Kawasaki or BMW? So hard to decide…’
The rest of their short holiday on Light Island passed by very uneventfully. Aleksey was reluctant to stay too long as he didn’t actually want to force Harry from his new home, a codicil the old man had insisted be part of their agreement. He didn’t even pursue his desire to speak with Oily Penrose, although opportunities occurred on various trips to St Mary’s. He didn’t go as far as to admit to himself that the experience in the asylum on Benhar had put him off vital research, but the peace and tranquillity of feeling that nothing was happening and no one was trying to kill him was too superb to threaten.
Ben wanted to get back home. He had genuinely important things to do. After all, what was more critical than Molly-Rose Rider-Mikkelsen’s fourth birthday?
So they returned the last week in September to their Devon valley clothed in glorious reds and golds, and to the scent of wood smoke on the air.
