“Are you—?”
“No.”
“Oh.So what is your role with the film?”
“I’m sorry?”
“I was going to ask if you were the director.”
“Oh.”Huh.“Yes.I am.”
“Are you ex-military?”
“Yes.Russian.”
“Oh.So, was it okay for…?”Nikolas wasn’t about to tell this very intense man that being gay was considered a mental disease when he’d been in the army, or enlighten him as to the punishments handed out to those discovered.Neither did he mention the flip side of this: the army he’d known obviously had just as many gay men as any other, only they were necessarily extremely secretive and very easy, consequently, for senior officers, like him, to exploit.He hadn’t told Ben much, if any, of this and wasn’t all that happy having to think about these things now.He was profoundly glad when Ben returned and declared they had to leave—that they had another interview in London…
Andrew Weir seemed relieved, too.He nodded and rose first, making his way toward the front door.“Sorry if I came over a bit strong there.I was angry for a long time, especially at that dickwad McConaughey, but I’ve been in therapy for a while.It’s really helped, you know?”
Nikolas found this admission slightly interesting and actually relevant, so he expected Ben to pounce on it and ask a flurry of questions.He was surprised when Ben didn’t seem able to leave quickly enough.He was almost hustled back to the car, which they’d had to park some houses down.
“What did you think?”
“About what?You drive.”
“About Andrew.What did you think?”
“I didn’t think about him at…”
“Nik…”
Nikolas sighed.“I think he’s a very angry and bitter man.He seems obsessed with events well in the past.Isn’t itcompulsoryfor your army to be gay now?I was surprised though you didn’t ask him—”
“The house is completely stripped bare upstairs—no furniture at all.”
“Huh.Thatisodd.I wonder what he does for—”
“Even odder?He’s got: ‘I will leave darkness behind me’scrawled on the wall of one of the bedrooms…”
Nikolas turned to him then stared thoughtfully back at the house.“I think that’s our cue to return and enquire about the therapy course, no?”
They were too late.The house was empty, but the gate from the tiny square of unkempt garden at the back was open and swinging slightly in the breeze.
Major Andrew Weir had left.
They were equidistance now from their two houses and debated which to return to.Ben checked his messages.“Fuck.Tim’s been trying to get hold of me.I had it turned off.”Ben returned his friend’s last call, walking a little way down the path and along the road out of Nikolas’s hearing.Nikolas debated whether he could get away with a cigarette.Ben and Tim usually spent an inordinate amount of time on the phone, in his opinion.Before he had a chance to decide, Ben came running back.“Squeezy’s gone.”
Nikolas cast his eyes to the heavens but no respite was forthcoming.He probably didn’t deserve it anyway.
“So that idiot friend of yours decides to investigate on his own.What a surprise.”There was no doubt in his mind and likely not in Ben’s either as to why Squeezy had disappeared—or where he was headed.The idiot’s impulsive—reckless—way of tackling life was a constant source of annoyance to Nikolas.
“How come when he does something wrong he’s always my friend?”
Nikolas only grunted, thinking.“Well, there’s nothing we can do.We’ll go back to Devon.”
“Nik…”
“You drive.”
