The Students of Barrenmoor Ridge Page 15

  ‘No.’

  ‘So, what happened?’ he repeated. ‘I’m not being nosy without reason, mate. The more we know about Casper, the better his chances of survival.’

  Gary put it that way on purpose, and it worked. The word, ‘survival’ had an impact and Liam gasped.

  ‘We had a row,’ he admitted, talking slowly. ‘Kind of. Casper gets wound up when he does things wrong, and he blamed the missing bag on himself. Usually, I let him have his outbursts and think nothing of them, but he followed it with some bad news. Bad for me at any rate, and later, I suppose I gave him some back.’

  The statement took some filtering, but it still didn’t help Gary with the timeline.

  ‘So, you had a row,’ he clarified. ‘Then what?’

  ‘We lay there listening to this.’ Liam jerked his head to the rattle of the elements. ‘In the dark. Could have been an hour, maybe more. I must have fallen asleep. I woke up, and the tent was open. Found him outside, dragged him in.’

  ‘Well done. Any idea what time?’

  ‘Yeah, I looked at my phone. Wanted to call someone but couldn’t. It was just after midnight.’

  The facts were vague, but the other guy could have been outside for three hours or two minutes before being found. It was most likely the latter because as soon as the tent was opened, the drop in temperature would have woken Liam. Gary couldn’t be sure, but he noted the possibility before asking what state Casper was in and listing those details along with the others. He was pleased that Liam was talking, it showed that he was recovering, and his speech wasn’t slurred, but the information he gave about Casper’s condition caused concern. Gary would relay them when John checked in, but he would do it out of earshot.

  ‘Great, Liam,’ he said. ‘Is that it? You don’t know why he went out?’

  ‘No. I thought it was because of what I’d said, but…’ Liam’s composure began to crumble, he clamped his eyes shut, and his chest jerked.

  Here comes the shock, Gary thought. Bracing himself, he took the mug from Liam’s hand and set it safely aside before moving closer, tucking one leg up and putting an arm across the back of the sofa.

  ‘And what did you say? Can you remember?’ he pressed. It was better to help the shock come through than let it be bottled.

  Liam couldn’t tell him. Tears were leaking from his eyes, his mouth was pulled down in a frown, and his chest was heaving.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Gary whispered, leaning in and taking him by the shoulder.

  Thanks to the remark about Gary and John being married, he had an idea of what was coming.

  Call it gaydar or intuition, he had sensed it when he saw Liam in the pub.

  ‘I’m so fucked up,’ Liam moaned, his nose dripping.

  ‘Aye,’ Gary sighed. ‘I’ve been there too. You love him, don’t you? You told him, and he didn’t want to know.’

  Liam turned to Gary, sobbing and shaking his head. ‘No’, he blurted. ‘I didn’t tell him, and now I may be too late.’

  Gary drew Liam into his arms and held his head against his shoulder.

  ‘It’s okay’, he said, holding Liam’s wrist to show support and surreptitiously check his pulse. ‘You’re safe now. Let it out.’

  Thirteen

  They were exactly the words Liam wanted to hear and said in such a way that they were impossible to disbelieve. He didn’t know the man holding him, and to cry in front of a stranger was embarrassing, but he had no control over his emotions. Like an over-stretched piano string, he had wound himself too tightly, kept his secret too closely, and inevitably, something had snapped. What was meant to be a special moment between best friends had turned into a nightmare because Casper had got in there first with his devastating news, making Liam’s sound like revenge. ‘You don’t make things easy,’ rang in his ears, its meaning scrambled with concern for Casper, anger towards him for returning to Greece, and helplessness because he didn’t understand why everything had gone wrong.

  ‘You’re okay, mate.’ The guy was saying it over and over, pressing Liam’s head to his chest and rearranging the shiny silver blanket to cover his legs.

  A stranger was caring for him, and another was going to rescue Casper. Liam should have been elated, but there was no joy, only the pain of losing a friend and the shame of weeping.

  ‘Sorry,’ he sniffed, pulling away.

  ‘Been a rough night,’ Gary said. ‘But it’ll get better. Drink more water, and I’ll find you something to eat.’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘It wasn’t a question.’

  Gary passed the water, and Liam accepted it.

  This man, although not much older than himself, knew what he was doing. He spoke with authority and yet kindly, and his expression, warming and encouraging, showed that he was not only willing to listen to anything Liam had to say, but also expected him to talk, at least to explain his angst. Liam wanted to tell him everything; he had to tell someone, and Gary was right there, but the problem was where to start.

  Gary took the decision out of his hands.

  ‘How long have you been mates?’ He asked in such a casual way, Liam was caught off guard, and for a moment, it was easy to imagine there was nothing wrong.

  ‘About fifteen months,’ he said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

  Gary handed him a handkerchief. ‘You vegetarian?’

  ‘Eh? No. Why?’

  ‘Allergies?’

  ‘Don’t think so, no.’ Where were these random questions heading?

  ‘Perfect. Don’t want an anaphylactic shock on my hands.’

  Gary was on his way to the kitchen, and Liam only had to turn slightly to watch him as he pottered at cupboards and lit the stove.

  ‘Oh, right,’ Liam said. ‘No, I eat anything.’

  ‘Good. So, you and Casper? Not your boyfriend, just good mates.’

  ‘I thought so. Now I’m not too sure.’

  ‘Because?’

  If Gary could talk about husbands and boyfriends as naturally as other men spoke about wives and girlfriends, so could Liam. It would be a first, but he was willing to give it a try.

  ‘Because I told him I was gay,’ he said.

  ‘And he didn’t know this before tonight?’

  ‘I’d not told him. Not told anyone. I wanted to do it before I turned eighteen. Don’t ask me why.’

  ‘How did he take it?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Liam replaced the water and sipped the remaining tea. It was already turning cold, and he wondered if it would be rude to ask for another.

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘He asked me why I had to make things difficult.’

  ‘Difficult?’

  ‘Yeah, I don’t understand it either. When I found him gone, I thought I’d put him off, shocked him or something. Later, when I realised the rucksack was missing, I knew he’d tried to get away from me.’

  ‘That must have hurt.’

  Gary was back at the sofa with a fresh and steaming mug of tea.

  ‘Thank you,’ Liam said, smiling despite the shivering he was trying to repress. His legs still hurt, and his arms felt bare outside of the blanket.

  ‘Did you find the rucksack?’ Gary asked, standing over him with one eye on the kitchen.

  ‘No. I didn’t think to go back out and look. It’s probably behind a rock somewhere.’

  ‘But you and Casper… You said you’re best friends?’

  ‘Were.’

  ‘Aye, well, you don’t know that for sure. Maybe he was trying to think of a supportive thing to say when you fell asleep. Maybe he was just confused and didn’t know how to reply. And you don’t know what he was doing outside.’

  ‘No, I suppose, but why did he say I made things difficul
t as if it was my fault? Why not just say, “Good for you” or “That’s okay”?’ The tears were threatening to return, and Liam needed to change the subject. ‘Anyway,’ he said before Gary could leap in. ‘Thanks for your help.’

  Gary regarded him silently, giving Liam the uneasy feeling that he was expected to say more, but just then, all he could think about was Casper’s news and how, whether they were still friends or not, he would be gone in a few months.

  ‘Just got to stir the soup,’ Gary said.

  A sharp crackle took Liam by surprise, but Gary was expecting it and unclipped a radio receiver from the waistband of his joggers as he headed back to the stove.

  ‘Receiving you, John, over.’

  Click, crackle, a disconnected, slightly distorted voice. ‘First of the six, ascending north-west, steady. Over.’ Click.

  ‘Roger that. Over.’

  ‘Casualty? Over.’

  ‘OTR. Will give update info in fifteen. Your ETA? Over.’

  ‘O-five-thirty, latest. Out.’

  A final click, and then Gary’s voice from the kitchen. ‘He’s on his way and doing well. Is white toast okay?’

  ‘What?’ After the clipped, efficient language of the conversation, the question sounded so natural, yet out of place, and Liam wasn’t sure what Gary meant. ‘For Casper?’

  Gary laughed. ‘No, you chump, for you.’

  Liam twisted on the sofa, and because Gary had done the same, pulled his legs up as he leant on the back where he could look directly into the kitchen. Gary was stirring a pan with one hand and dropping bread into a toaster with the other.

  ‘White’s fine,’ he said bemused. ‘How do you do that?’

  ‘Simple, mate. Bread in, press the lever…’

  ‘No. Talk to your…’ It would be the first time he had asked another man about his husband, and at first, he was embarrassed to say the word.

  ‘Talk to my radio?’ Gary asked, pulling an expression which read, “Are you daft?”

  ‘No.’ Liam took a breath. ‘Talk to your husband…’ Strangely, it felt quite normal. ‘As if what he’s doing is nothing.’

  ‘It is, to him.’ Gary said. ‘In fact, without wanting to show off, going up Fellborough in this weather is a walk in the park for John. He’d be happier if he was at twenty thousand feet, in the snow and carrying climbing and camera gear, though he’d rather not be going for a casualty. None of us wants to do that.’

  ‘But you do.’

  ‘When called. That’s John there.’

  Gary pointed the wooden spoon, and Liam followed its trajectory to a large, framed photograph. It showed a man on an ice wall, his arms and legs in impossible positions, one hand holding an ice axe into the sheer face, the other pressing a camera to his eye as he leant out over a bottomless drop. Another climber was ascending higher up, and John (it could have been anyone from that angle, but there was no reason to disbelieve Gary) was taking photographs.

  ‘Blimey,’ Liam said. ‘Where was that?’

  ‘Nepal a few years ago. So, you see? He knows what he’s doing.’

  ‘Amazing.’ Liam was impressed by the climber’s skill, but more so by the way John and Gary communicated.

  ‘And what was all the jargon?’ he asked, turning back to find Gary approaching with a bowl.

  ‘Saves time. Here, put that on your lap.’

  Gary passed him a tray and set the soup on it before returning to fetch the toast which had just popped from the toaster.

  ‘I understood ETA,’ Liam said, clutching the bowl and relishing the warmth. ‘What’s OTR?’

  ‘On the road,’ Gary explained. ‘It’s not official that one, just what John and I use. On the road to recovery, which is exactly what you are.’

  Gary was back at the sofa where he handed Liam a plate with two slices of toast, a candle was stuck in one of them.

  ‘Happy birthday,’ he said, going to the fireplace and poking at the ashes. ‘Sorry I don’t have eighteen.’

  Liam was gobsmacked. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘You told John your age earlier, and just now you said you wanted to tell your mate you were gay before you turned eighteen, so I guessed you weren’t last night, and you are now. Sorry, it’s not much of a party, and there’s no present.’

  ‘All I want is for Cass to get down safely,’ Liam said. ‘Sorry, that sounded ungrateful. Thank you.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. Eat.’

  The soup was hot, and Liam devoured the toast in a minute. Hungrier than he had admitted, he hardly tasted either. Any pleasure there might have been in eating for the first time in so many hours was dulled by thoughts of Casper freezing and alone. Each swallow came with guilt that he was safe, and Casper still at the mercy of the elements.

  Gary had said nothing, and when Liam looked up, he found him squatting on his haunches holding a taper. The fire was taking hold, but Gary wasn’t watching it, his eyes were fixed on Liam.

  ‘You’re in love with him, aren’t you?’

  The truthful answer was that Liam didn’t know, and he said so, adding, ‘How would I know?’ because he had never been in love. It was meant to come out with a different meaning, but it sounded as if he was asking for advice, which was how Gary took it.

  ‘I can tell,’ Gary said. ‘And all those clichés you see in films? You know, not wanting to be apart, heart beating faster when you see him, those daydreams you have of how things could be… All that lot you groan at when you watch something, well, they’re clichés for a reason. Because they are real. You had any of that?’

  Every day, but could Liam admit it?

  ‘It was when I saw him,’ he said, putting down his spoon. The flames had taken the kindling, and he stared at them as if they would burn his memories to ash if he didn’t relive them. ‘Saw him lying there, shivering and pitiful. It was when I had to decide what to do. Stay with him and hope we’d be found, or leave him and go for help. I didn’t want to leave him. Maybe it was because I was forced to that I suddenly realised… I don’t want to be without him.’

  The tears were building again, as was the misery of knowing that Casper was soon to leave, compounded by the realisation that Casper didn’t care.

  ‘But he’s going away.’ The words fell from his lips along with the tears from his eyes. ‘That was his bad news. He’s going back to Greece next summer and will stay there.’

  The flames were at the logs, and Gary was beside him, taking Liam’s wrist as he sat.

  ‘Hey, mate,’ he said. ‘It’s okay. It’s shock. Honest. Don’t feel bad, just let it out.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Liam took a deep breath and pulled himself together. ‘God, I feel stupid.’

  ‘Well, don’t.’ Gary let go. ‘Feel proud.’

  ‘Proud?’

  ‘Aye. Proud that you dared to come out, and proud that you’ve saved your best mate’s life. You could have been waiting days in that tent, and with no food, him being soaked through and probably hypothermic, and only rainwater to drink, assuming you could collect it, he might not have been so lucky. Whether he buggers off and dumps you or not, you have probably saved his life.’

  ‘Dumps me…?’ Liam stifled a laugh, not because he found the expression funny, but because it was a relief to be told he had made the right decision, and being honest with himself, he was fed up with feeling sorry and confused.

  ‘Aye, well, maybe not the best thing to say,’ Gary said. ‘But you know what I mean. Good to see that smile. It suits you.’

  Liam smiled a little wider. It wouldn’t reach its full potential until Casper was safe, and even then, it might not last for long if Casper had been trying to run away, but it would do for now.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know what else to do.’

  ‘Well
, if your phone was working, the safest thing…’

  They were interrupted by the click and crackle of the radio, and Gary took it to the kitchen to answer. Liam was unable to hear him this time, he turned his back and held the receiver close to his mouth when speaking, and tight against his ear when listening, but as before, the conversation was short. When it was over, Gary took a moment to write in his book before coming back to the sofa, bringing his own mug of tea.

  ‘He’s at what we call the Zags,’ he said. ‘The winding path? You must have come down it.’

  ‘So not the river yet?’

  ‘Not yet. It’s just a runoff channel, by the way. Not to be funny, but to point out that it’s not deep.’

  ‘Came up to my waist.’

  ‘But you didn’t get pulled away by it.’

  ‘No, thank God.’

  ‘Things often seem worse than they are,’ Gary said. ‘The runoff has power, but nothing unexpected. Looks worse than it is and sounds it too. John’ll be fine.’

  ‘Will he bring Casper back tonight?’

  ‘It’s morning, actually, and the answer is, I don’t know yet. Depends on his condition and the weather. Either way, John will assess him, and if he thinks Casper can’t manage the trek, will call for the MRT.’

  ‘Mountain Rescue Team?’

  ‘You’re getting the hang of this.’ Gary tapped his mug against Liam’s, a friendly gesture, if a little patronising.

  ‘That was an easy one,’ Liam said.

  ‘Where did you meet?’

  Gary’s question came out of the blue, and Liam answered before he had a chance to think.

  ‘In a broom cupboard,’ he said. ‘He fell into my arms. Literally.’

  Gary grinned. ‘Now this, I have to hear,’ he said, turning and leaning against the arm of the sofa. His eyes, blue and wide, bored into Liam, but the twist of his grin told him they were now gossips, two friends who had something in common and about to share notes.

  Liam found it easy to describe. The scene appeared in his head as it had done on many occasions, and the story flowed. The music, the chemistry between them when they played, and how it soon spilt over into life outside of the music room, beyond the classrooms and the climbing group and into their everyday lives. Good times that he had almost forgotten, because there were so many, he took them for granted, flooded from him like the runoff gushed from the mountain. Gary listened when Liam was on a roll and prompted him to say more when Liam thought he had spoken for too long, and neither noticed the time. Before he knew it, they had been interrupted four times by the radio, and Gary’s fixed smile was becoming strained.