* * *
Chapter Fifteen
Later that night, Ben muttered something about bags and checking on somebody and climbed out of bed. Aleksey nestled further down under the covers, listening as Ben descended the stairs, added more wood to the fire and slid open the door. When he was alone, he starfished in the warm centre of the mattress, regarding the underside of the old roof tiles.
He had been shocked by Billy’s appearance. He’d not seen him for a month, and in that time the little man’s health had clearly deteriorated. He had not taken much part in the tree decoration but sat on one of the sofas, Snodgrass on his lap, just watching and clapping his hands when something particularly pleased him. But Aleksey had been able to hear his laboured breathing even over the singing of the choir. The King of Light Island was nearly sixty. No age at all for anyone else in his family, who all seemed to have a longevity gene, but Billy was different. Six decades for one such as he was almost unheard of. Ben returned before he’d come to any useful conclusions about their strange lighthouse dweller. He did not see that taking him to a doctor, submitting him to that kind of stress, would be helpful. He decided to consult Harry, who knew him best.
Ben climbed back into the bed and shoved him back to his own side.
‘Guess what?’
Aleksey pursed his lips, thinking. ‘The tree lights have failed and caused a massive fire and the whole place is destroyed and no one survived?’
He heard Ben’s head turn on the pillow and sensed scrutiny. ‘You are very weird sometimes.’ Then Ben snorted softly. ‘It’s worse—from your point of view, anyway. Squeezy and Tim are sleeping inourbed—andhe’son your side.’
‘What!’
‘He said he was going to lie there and think about us having sex.’
‘I don’t think his boyfriend would like some of the things we do in bed.’
‘Go to sleep. I said I’d be back to cook breakfast before everyone else gets—Hey, are you ever getting up?’
Aleksey opened one eye groggily. ‘What? You just told me to go to—why is it light now?’
Ben straddled his waist. ‘Because it’s past dawn. You’ve been dead to the world. Come on! It’s Christmas Eve! We’re going to pick Jennifer up today.’
‘Well, that’s going to motivate me to get up.’
‘It’s going to be even earlier tomorrow morning probably. Come on. Up.’
‘I am. Now you’re sitting there.’
Ben gave him a playful tap on the nose. ‘This is why I’ve isolated you from early-morning visitors.’
‘It seems a bit unfair to expect Babushka to—’
Ben leaned down and began to kiss around his face, silencing him. ‘I don’t. Tim’s on Molly duty all Christmas.’
He frowned, enjoying the kisses but pushed Ben off. ‘Why? How? What do you mean?’
‘Squeezy dared him. Said if he wanted one, then he’d better prove he knew what he was getting into.’
‘Huh. That seems a little unfair given her current… Ah, I suspect the moron hopes the good doctor does fail—or at least changes his mind. He’d better not fail with our baby tyrant though. Only we are allowed to lose her off the cliff or see her snatched by a great—eagle. Or something.’
Ben was busy descending the spiral stairs and didn’t appear to be listening, so his swift change of predator went unnoticed. He sighed at the requirement to be up even before serfs in the fields would have been. No one gave him any credit for being Lord of Light Island. He was fairly sure it meant you got to lie around in bed all day if you wanted. With Benjamin Rider-Mikkelsen servicing you, preferably. ‘I will shower. Wait for me.’
‘Yeah, about that.’ Ben’s disembodied voice from below sounded oddly apologetic.
* * *
There wasn’t one. Or one that any civilised person would count as a shower, anyway. They hadn’t had time to convert the old toilet at the back. But the builders, being industrious (or keen to get back to reception on their phones), had run a hose out of the kitchen to an outside facility. Facility being a polite way to describe said hose hanging on a tree branch over some old builders’ pallets that had been laid to keep the water from just pooling into a muddy puddle. Aleksey stood under the tree, shouted for Ben to turn on the tap, and some cold water dribbled out from the nozzle. He shrugged: he’d washed in worse.
Guillemot was quiet when he entered. The dogs came out of the kitchen to greet him, and he could hear the sounds of Ben moving around singing a tuneless carol. When he entered the main room, he paused on the shallow top step, admiring the tree. The decorators had done a good job. Even better than the tinsel and baubles, however, the tree was decidedly improved by a few brightly wrapped parcels around its base. Excellent. He went over to see if any had his name on. For a brief moment, he recalled Christmas mornings in Denmark with Nikolas. He wondered if children who were not identical twins could rise to the pitch of excitement they had at such times. It was as if they’d bounced emotion between them, swelling it on each rebound. Nina’s presents had always been a bit eccentric, but anything new was good.
‘Papa!’
He turned and was about to crouch down to pick her up but recalled this was impossible, so just watched, amused, as she struggled to climb up on one of the couches. He sat next to her as Jenna launched herself onto his shoulder.
