“Laurie.Why are you living like a refugee, here in your ownhome?”
Lauriecaught his breath.He felt as if he’d missed a gear on his mother’slittle Mini Cooper and stalled her out.He stared down at Sasha,who was back in the moment with him now, intense, eyes fixedunblinkingly on his.“We weren’t talking about… What do youmean?”
“This great big house.Why are you hiding in one of itsattics?”
“I’m not.It’s just my room.”
“Okay.How old areyou?”
“Nineteen.Why…”
“Because you’re terrified of your father, and you’ve goteverything you need to walk away and make a life of your own.Education, money… Why don’t you?”
Laurieshifted uncomfortably.He wasn’t sure how he had ended up in thespotlight, and he felt oddly trapped there, as if Sasha’s questionswere more valid than his own.He didn’t know why and fought a briefrush of irritation.What could Sasha possibly understand, about thetask of self-extraction from the honeypot, the web of familywealth?
“I don’t really have either,” he said.“He gives me…pocketmoney, for God’s sake.And I’m home for the winter to study becauseI stuffed up my first-year exams.He’s paying for my tutor.”Put soplainly as that, his reasons sounded so inadequate that Laurie felta deep flush of shame rising up in him—then remembered, almost withrelief, that he had other motives.They were none of Sasha’sbusiness, but the quiet, dark gaze on his was not judgmental, onlywaiting.“He’s a bastard,” Laurie said quietly after a moment.“I’mafraid he’ll hurt Clara, and my mother too.I try to be around asmuch as I can.”
“But when term starts, you’ll go back to college and leavethem.The only real way to help them would be to find your ownlife, your own place, and give them somewhere to go.Wouldn’tit?”
Laurieswallowed.“Jesus, Sasha.You don’t know what you’re asking.I’mnot…I’m not like you.I can’t do anything.”
“What are you studying?”
“Maths and politics.With the old man’s connections, I mightget a seat in the Houses of Parliament or go into law, but…” Hetrailed off.To his bewilderment, Sasha was beaming at him.Lauriecould feel repressed laughter trembling in the muscles of Sasha’schest and stomach.“What?”
“I thought you must be at… What’s the big drama school calledhere?RADA?”
“The Royal Academy of Dramatic Art,” Laurie confirmed dryly.Itwas where, when he was eighteen, he had hoped, prayed and evendared to assume he would be.But that was before his subject choicefor A levels had had to be made and he had run up against SirWilliam, who had turned out to have assumptions of hisown.
“No wonder you don’t think you can do anything.Laurie, if Ihad half your gift, I’d be doing street plays, finding any way Icould of crawling onto a stage every chance I got.”He lifted ahand and rubbed the backs of his fingers up and down Laurie’scheek.
Something in the gesture made Laurie want to burst intotears.
“Forgive my saying this.We’ve just met.But you don’t seem tome to be…much of a maths-and-politics person.”
“I’m not.”Laurie wanted to shout it, to smack his fistsagainst the wall to make his point, but he had learned to tread toowarily through the mine-loaded no-man’s-land that stretched betweenhis father’s ambitions and his own.His voice remained flat andquiet.“But it’s not as simple as that.”
“No, I’m sure it’s not.I’m sure…each of our lives, ourcircumstances, looks far simpler from the outside.Listen to me,Laurie.I can’t believe I’ve met you.I’m still not sure thatyou’re real; I keep thinking I died of hypothermia with poor Gyorgylast night.”
“No.He’s okay.He said he could go somewhere.”
“Because you gave him enough to get him off the street.That’swhat I mean.You’re so bloody sweet, and last night—coming here,doing what we did—it was perfect.You made me want to live for thefirst time in as long as I can remember.”
“Then live.”Laurie choked.His throat had filled with copperysalt.“Let me help.Youmightdie the next night you’re out there.I couldn’tbear that.Come back here—I’ll find a way.”
“Shh.You know that wouldn’t work.Look, I can’t trace mymother’s people.There’s reasons for that.But I know there areRoma gypsy camps here too, on the outskirts of London.Would youlook online for me, see if you can find out where?”He smiled,shrugged.“They don’t welcome the likes of me in Internetcafés.”
They would, if I dressed you in my clothes.If I took you outand bought your own for you, sent you to my hairdresser.If I keptyou.Maybe the old man is right—there’s nothing that money can’tbuy.
Bitingback a moan, Laurie drove off the darkly shining thoughts.“Ofcourse I will.I’ll do it now.”
Hepushed the duvet back, but Sasha’s grip closed tenderly tight onhis arm.“Not right now.What time is it?”
“About six.”
“And still pitch-dark.It doesn’t feel like morning yet tome.”
Lauriewasn’t sure how he had ended up on his knees beside the bed, exceptthat there had been a dispute, a brief silent tussle, which he hadunexpectedly won.He was stronger, he supposed—better fed, anyway.Once Sasha had had a few more hot meals down him, he would be aforce to be reckoned with.Nothing Laurie would have liked betterthan to have let him get where he had been trying to go, plungingdown the bed, planting hot kisses on Laurie’s chest and belly enroute, but he remembered the look on Sasha’s face as he had emergedfrom his transaction under the bridge—the weary, dead sickness—andhe did not want Sasha even going through the samemotions.
