The Secrets Beneath
by Sally Fell
Late June 1976
As he studied the small glass intaglio that he was holding in the palm of his hand Raymond Doyle felt yet another bead of sweat run down his cheek. Despite the open window and the electric fan whirring away on the filing cabinet behind him his office was stiflingly hot. Far too hot, he decided, to concentrate on the Roman artefact whose fine detail he had been attempting to reproduce on the sheet of graph paper lying before him on the desk. He stood wearily and plucked at the sweat-sodden t-shirt that was stuck to his back, allowing the cool air from the fan to play over his skin and provide a few brief moments of respite from the oppressive heat and humidity which had been enveloping the entire country for the past week. The first signs of a headache were starting to make themselves felt; one of his blinders if he wasn’t mistaken.
Fresh air, that’s what I need, he thought. Get out of this bloody sauna of an office, have a nice cold pint of beer down by the river and then home.
He picked up the intaglio and looked carefully at it again. It didn’t matter how many of these things he saw, the craftsmanship lavished upon them never failed to enthral him. Two thousand years old and still as perfect as the day it was made…
The sudden bursting open of his office door interrupted his thoughts with a crash, almost causing him to drop the tiny piece of glass that he was holding.
“Bloody hell, Dan!” he scowled at the man framed in the doorway. “This thing’s lain undamaged in the soil for two millennia and you almost make me smash the damn thing.”
His words fell on deaf ears. “Forget that, Ray,” his colleague replied excitedly, waving a bundle of photographs at him. “These have just been developed. I’m just on my way to show them to the old man. Come on.”
“The only place I’m going is the pub. You can show me your holiday snaps in the morning. I’m off.”
The other man grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the door. “You can’t miss this, Ray. You’ll never forgive me if I let you go home now, believe me.”
Doyle looked at his friend in exasperation as he allowed himself to be propelled along the corridor. Dan’s enthusiasm was as easy to ignite as a match but Doyle knew from experience that the subjects of that enthusiasm didn’t always live up to Dan’s initial expectations. “What have we got then?” he asked, resigning himself to the fact that his prospects of a cold pint of beer were rapidly retreating.
“You know that aerial survey we did down in Sussex yesterday? I thought at the time that we were onto something big. The photos prove that it’s not just big. It’s absolutely bloody massive!”
Dan’s excitement was starting to become contagious and Doyle could feel himself becoming interested despite himself. He attempted to grab one of the photos from Dan’s hand but the other man swiftly pushed him aside.
“Not so fast,” he laughed. “I want to see the look on your face - and the old man’s - when I present these in all their glory.”
Doyle found himself being shoved unceremoniously through the door into Professor Nicholson’s office -- the usual polite formality of a knock on the door being completely foreign to Dan when he was in the throes of one of his more excitable moments.
The grey-haired man at the desk looked up in surprise. “Dr. Barker? Dr. Doyle? Is something amiss?” he asked, concerned.
Without speaking Dan rapidly cleared a large table at one end of the room and began to spread the photos out in a careful sequence. The professor looked questioningly at Doyle who replied with a weak smile and a shrug of his shoulders.
“There!” Dan declared triumphantly. “The Erskine estate, just outside the village of Warenford in West Sussex. A series of aerial photos expertly taken by myself yesterday evening an hour before sunset. And which, I modestly suggest, could prove to herald the biggest discovery any of us in this room have ever been involved in.”
“You modestly suggest …” Doyle snorted.
Dan suddenly became subdued. “Just look at them, Ray,” he said quietly. “Professor?”
The two men crossed the room and stood gazing down at the array of photographs. For a few seconds neither of them spoke. Doyle was the first to break the silence. “Dan…” he whispered. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s… it’s just bloody spectacular!”
Dan nodded. “Bigger than Fishbourne, I’d say. Wouldn’t you, Professor?”
The older man seemed to be finding it hard to speak. “Most definitely, most definitely,” he murmured eventually.
“We flew over an area of about thirty acres in total,” Dan explained, indicating each photo in turn. “Then I got Rick to come in again from the opposite angle and we took these ones here.” He glanced at Doyle as he mentioned the pilot’s name and couldn’t fail to notice the almost imperceptible tightening of the other man’s mouth. “The conditions were perfect,” he quickly continued. “We couldn’t have asked for better light or shadows. And this drought has been an absolute godsend for us.”
Professor Nicholson turned and retrieved an ordnance survey map from his bookshelf. “Show me where this is exactly,” he said as he shoved it into Dan’s hands. Dan quickly found the relevant part of the map and indicated the rough location of the aerial survey. “I’m not familiar with the area,” Nicholson admitted. “Have there been any significant finds there in the past?”
“Nothing to speak of. A few potsherds thrown up by ploughing. Nothing to get excited about.”
The other men’s voices were going over Doyle’s head as he gazed at the photos. There before him was the text book outline of a first century Roman villa. Completely unknown before now but absolutely no doubt about it. He forced himself to study each photo individually but soon found himself carried away again at the sheer scale of the site. He’d never in all his years of study and excavation seen anything like it. “Who owns the land?” he suddenly asked.
“Lord Erskine,” Dan replied. “Seems a decent old bloke. I contacted him as a matter of course before we did the survey.”
“Do you think he’ll let us excavate?”
Dan grabbed him by the shoulders. “That’s the beautiful thing, Ray,” he beamed. “The old boy’s dead keen. Bit of a frustrated historian I think. Told me if we found anything in the photos that we’d be welcome to investigate.”
They both turned to face their superior, who looked back at them with a somewhat stupefied expression. “I’ll telephone him now. You have his number I take it, Dr. Barker?”
A sheet of paper was thrust into his hand and within seconds he was dialling the number.
“Ray, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to throw Rick’s name into the conversation like that.”
Doyle studied the beer in his glass. “It’s OK, Dan. Really it is. I’m not going to collapse in a heap every time I hear his name mentioned you know.”
Dan took a deep breath. “Yeah, I know. Even so …”
“Forget it, Dan. It’s something I’ve got to deal with. I’ve still got to work with the bloke despite everything that’s happened.”
There was a pause before Doyle continued. “How was he?” he eventually asked.
Dan shrugged. “Same old Rick. You know what he’s like.”
“Hmm, yeah. I know all right.”
Dan leaned over the table and laid his hand on Doyle’s arm. “Listen, Ray,” he said. “I can just about put up with Rick. He’s a good pilot and he knows what to do so I can get the shots I want. But I wouldn’t trust him any further than I could throw him and if you want my opinion you’re better off without him.”
The contents of his glass continued to hold Doyle’s attention until a sudden punch on his shoulder made him look up. “For god’s sake, Ray. We’re on the verge of something that’s going to take the archaeological world by storm and you’re sitting here like a wet weekend in Bognor!”
Doyle smiled. “You’re right, mate,” he replied, lifting his glass. “Here’s to a successful dig!”
Early August 1976
Doyle watched as the motley collection of wagons, vans and minibuses spewed forth their contents. He’d been quietly overjoyed at the number of his students who’d volunteered to stay on through the summer vacation and work on the site. Looking again at the pile of papers clipped to the board in his hand, he sighed. He knew it was all necessary of course, but he hated this part of his work. How many trees had needed to be cut down to produce this amount of paper he asked himself. As site director he was responsible for all aspects of the excavation -- staffing, equipment, funding, safety. And most importantly -- although he sometimes wondered if the powers that be ever gave it a second thought -- the planning of the excavation itself. Sometimes he wished that he was still a humble digger, sat at the bottom of a trench scraping away with his trowel and with nothing else to worry about.
The sound of his name being called made him look up to see Dan advancing across the field towards him, a sheet of paper fluttering from his hand. “Telegram from his Lordship,” he said as he reached him, waving the paper under Doyle’s nose. “Seems he’s away for a few weeks, but he says that his land agent …” He stopped and consulted the document. “…a Mr. Bodie… has been instructed to offer us every assistance.”
“And where can we find this Mr. Bodie?” Doyle asked.
“Apparently he’ll meet us here at eleven o’clock.” Dan checked his watch and then looked in the direction of Erskine Hall. “And if I’m not mistaken, this must be him.”
Doyle followed his gaze to see a figure climbing a stile at the far end of the field. The man strode purposefully towards them, the unsmiling expression on his face becoming clearer as he approached.
“Umm,” Dan murmured as Mr. Bodie drew nearer. “Don’t think this feller’s all that pleased to see us somehow.”
“Bloody hell,” Doyle snorted, taking in the tweed suit, checked shirt and leather brogues worn by the land agent and then looking down in amusement at his own scruffy t-shirt and shorts. “Somebody should have told us there was a dress code.”
Dan just about managed to stifle a chuckle as Mr. Bodie approached them.
The man stopped in front of them and looked from one to the other. “My name’s Bodie,” he said, his face like thunder. “One of you is Mr. Doyle I take it?”
Doyle felt his hackles rise. As a good socialist he put no store by titles, but every once in a while… “Doctor Doyle,” he corrected, extending his hand. The handshake was strong but exceedingly brief. “This is my colleague, Dr. Barker.” The handshake offered to Dan was even briefer.
“Lord Erskine has instructed me to give you access to any part of the Estate that you consider necessary to your project. He has asked me to tell you that he is most interested in your work and hopes that your investigations prove fruitful.”
The words seemed to Doyle’s ears to be a well-rehearsed litany that the other man was glad to get out of the way. “We’re very grateful to his Lordship,” he replied politely. “I can honestly say that we’re confident that this excavation will prove to be a turning point in our understanding of the Roman occupation of this country.”
He found himself being scrutinised by a malevolent stare. “As for myself, I find your presence here to be an extreme inconvenience and, frankly, an intolerable drain on the Estate’s resources,” Bodie continued with what could almost be described as a snarl. “However, his Lordship’s instructions are quite clear and therefore if there is anything you require please let me know. Goodbye, Doctors”
The last word was uttered with such derision that the two archaeologists just stared at each other open-mouthed as Bodie turned on his heel and stalked back across the field.
“Bloody hell,” Dan said quietly as they watched the departing figure. “Nice to be made welcome, isn’t it?”
“Fucking jumped-up little toerag,” Doyle replied. “I know his type. Give ‘em the least little bit of power and they turn into fucking Hitler.”
The first two days of any excavation were always frustrating in Doyle’s experience. Ensuring that they had enough equipment, settling the diggers into their accommodation -- which in this case happened to be a small village of tents two fields away -- planning the siting of the trenches, and establishing a central area for the examination and recording of finds. All absolutely necessary of course, but mind-numbingly boring when all he wanted to do was to cut those first few turfs and get the trenches started.
At the end of the second day everything was ready for the digging to begin first thing next morning. As the evening shadows lengthened Doyle stood at the edge of the field and looked across at the lumps and bumps in the ground that would soon be giving up their secrets. He’d never lost that feeling of excitement that the start of a dig raised in him. And this had to be the most exciting ever -- he knew they were on the threshold of something really important here.
“When are you going to start churning up this field then?” The voice startled him and he was surprised to see the dark-haired land agent standing directly behind him. The man had been conspicuous by his absence since his brusque introduction two days earlier.
“Tomorrow,” he replied warily, disconcerted by the sense of discomfort he felt in the other man’s presence.
“Bloody waste. Do you know how much this crop’s worth?”
“No. I’ve absolutely no idea,” Doyle admitted. “But surely his Lordship…”
“His Lordship’s a romantic,” the other man interrupted. “He’s no businessman. Doesn’t have a clue about the day-to-day running of the estate.”
“And you do, I suppose?”
Bodie looked at him in amazement. “Of course. Wouldn’t be much good at my job if I didn’t, would I?”
Doyle shook his head in exasperation. “Aren’t you the least bit interested in what we’re doing here?” he asked.
“Why should I be? What some Romans got up to thousands of years ago makes no difference to me. When I’m dead and gone nobody’s going to give a toss about what I did, so why should I care about them?”
Doyle took a deep breath. “The achievements of the Romans still influence our lives today. There’s still so much that we don’t understand about them. What we’ve got here is big, Mr. Bodie. Really big. It could throw the archaeological world in a spin. Don’t you want to be a part of that?”
Bodie looked at him scornfully. “What a load of bollocks. How long are you people planning on being here?”
Doyle could feel his temper rising. “For the season,” he snapped in reply. “Through to October, maybe November if we’re lucky with the weather.”
“Bloody marvellous,” Bodie replied, shaking his head.
“And if his Lordship’s agreeable we’ll be back next year and every year for the foreseeable future. Ever heard of Fishbourne?” Bodie looked at him blankly. “They’ve been working there for the past sixteen years,” Doyle continued, taking great delight at rubbing salt in the wound. “And in my view what we’ve got here is much bigger than Fishbourne, so it looks like you’ll have to put up with us for a good while yet.”
“Fucking marvellous,” the other man mumbled as his eyes scanned the field, a scowl firmly in place. He turned without another word and started to walk away.
“Goodnight, Mr. Bodie,” Doyle called, allowing a hint of sarcasm to tinge his voice.
Bodie stopped and looked back. “Goodnight, Doctor Doyle,” he replied before continuing on his way.
Doyle swore under his breath. Bastard…
The plan was spread out on the table, two pints of beer, a bag of crisps and an overflowing ashtray keeping the corners in situ.
“So, if we stick a trench in here we should find the angle of the wall. If it’s where we think it is.”
“And if it’s not?”
“Then the whole thing’s a damn sight bigger than we ever dared to imagine.”
The two men picked up their pints and watched the sheet of paper take on a life of its own.
“Ray, do you think we’re up to this?”
The expression on Doyle’s face could only be described as manic. “We’ll never find anything else like this, Dan,” he replied excitedly. “This is our Sutton Hoo, our Maiden Castle, our Fishbourne all rolled into one.”
“But are we up to it?” Dan insisted.
Doyle laughed. “Of course we are!” he replied. “Our whole lives have been leading up to this moment. We’ve been marking time up till now. We are now ready to meet our destiny!”
Dan looked at him askance. “You’re pissed, mate.”
Doyle leaned forward conspiratorially. “Of course I’m bloody pissed. And I intend to get pisseder before the night’s out.”
Dan leaned back in his chair and studied his friend. What the hell, he thought. He deserves to get pissed for a change. Let his hair down. God knows he’s not had much fun lately.
A movement in the doorway dragged his attention from the beatific smile currently residing upon Doyle’s face, and as he recognised the figure entering the pub his heart sank. “Jesus, Ray. Hitler’s just turned up.”
Doyle turned to look. “Great,” he replied enthusiastically. “I’m just in the mood for him.”
Before Dan could stop him Doyle was moving towards the bar. “Good evening, Mr. Bodie. Slumming it, are we?”
Dan groaned inwardly. How many bloody punch-ups had Doyle started like this?
A good minute passed while Bodie waited for his pint to be pulled and then paid for it. Then he turned and looked Doyle over from head to foot and back again. “Good evening, Dr. Doyle,” he replied pleasantly. “Hardly slumming it. This is my local, after all. Thought you Oxford types would go for something a bit more up-market than a country pub like this. Sorry we can’t provide your usual wine bars and pizzerias. We’re quite backward around here, I’m afraid.”
Seemingly transfixed, Doyle glared silently at the other man. Dan knew the signs -- his friend was either going to pass out or launch himself at Bodie’s throat. Before he had the chance to do either Dan was at his side, curling an arm around his waist and guiding him out of the door. He managed to get Doyle outside before the struggling started.
“What the hell are you doing? I’ve still got a pint in there.”
“Leave it. We don’t want any trouble with him. He’s the main man, Ray. One word from him and we’ll be out on our ears. We can’t afford to upset him.”
“What? I wasn’t going to do anything.”
“I’m pleased to hear it. Come on, mate. Time for bed. Big day tomorrow.” Dan breathed a sigh of relief as Doyle allowed him to lead him away from the pub.
Back in the bar of The Erskine Arms Bodie smiled and joined in with the banter of the locals regarding “bloody intellectuals”, adding a few ribald remarks of his own to the conversation. As the laughter died down however his thoughts turned once again to the impact that the dig was going to have on the Estate. The Estate’s financial situation was precarious to say the least, and getting worse with every passing year. And now, if Doyle was correct, it seemed that the dig was going to become practically a permanent fixture in their lives. Things would have to change somehow; surely there was some way that the Estate could benefit from the dig, especially if it proved to be as important as Doyle seemed to think it would.
Bloody arrogant little sod, he thought. Chip on his shoulder the size of a plank.
Bodie took a mouthful of his beer as he considered his few brief encounters with Dr. Raymond Doyle. It was a pity that the archaeologist was so bloody belligerent; he could possibly have been the ideal person to advise Bodie on how the Estate and the excavation could work together to their mutual advantage. The chances of he and Doyle having a civil conversation seemed pretty remote however. In fact, Bodie was sure that the other man had been within a hair’s-breadth of punching him in the face earlier. Maybe he should try to patch things up with Doyle, try to be a bit friendlier towards him. After all, he hadn’t exactly welcomed Doyle and his colleagues with open arms when they arrived. He suspected that his own attitude would be very similar to Doyle’s if their positions had been reversed. He smiled to himself as he thought of how the other man had almost hit him; no doubt who would have come off worst there. Doyle would probably fight dirty, he reckoned, but he could fight dirtier.
The man obviously had a good brain though, or he wouldn’t be doing the job he was doing. Bit of an enigma all round, really. University lecturer, one of the top men in his field it seemed, and yet he looked as though his clothes came from an Oxfam shop. And it was a good bet that that head of longish brown curls hadn’t been seen by a barber for years. Suits him though.
An almost forgotten sensation fleetingly swept over him as he pictured the way the other man had stood before him there in the pub, fists clenched and wild-eyed, but that unwelcome reaction was rapidly consigned to the back of his mind from whence he had no intention of dredging it up again.
By the time they reached their tent Doyle’s belligerence had disappeared, and had been replaced by an air of sleepy thoughtfulness. Dan tipped him onto his bed and clambered into his own. To be honest he’d had more than enough beer himself tonight, and all he could think of was closing his eyes and drifting off into oblivion.
Doyle, however, was suddenly wide awake and studying the roof of the tent. He lay for a while as Dan’s snorts and snuffles filled the air before being overtaken by a soft snoring. There was an image imprinted on his brain and he could not make it go away. “Dan? You still awake, Dan?”
Dan groaned and turned over. “What?” he mumbled impatiently.
“Was just thinking. Not a bad looking bloke really, is he.”
“Hmm?”
“Bodie. Not a bad looking bloke.”
There was another groan. “Yeah, very nice. Go to sleep, Ray.”
Doyle settled back into his pillow and closed his eyes. “Mmm, very nice,” he repeated, and he was smiling when sleep finally overtook him.
Despite a throbbing head and distinctly queasy stomach Doyle launched himself into the cutting of the trenches with gusto. At last the real work was starting and he could feel the excitement gathering pace within him as the first six inches of soil was gradually removed from the areas he had painstakingly marked out the previous day. It was a slow process -- with an area such as this with no record of any previous settlement there was no way of knowing just how near to the surface the Roman levels were. A few inches too deep and they could well lose important material.
At around six pm on a long, hot and dusty day he called a halt to the day’s proceedings. The constant brightness of the sun beating down on his face had made him feel very tired and for a moment he dreamed of a long cool shower before realising that a wash in a few inches of lukewarm water in his tent was the best he could hope for. He wondered wistfully if it was really true that the Universities in the States provided their site directors with on-site Winnebagos, complete with all mod cons.
He looked across to the trench at the far side of the field where Dan was in charge. Roughly situated at the point where the aerial photos indicated the corner of their villa to lie, he marvelled again at the sheer scale of the undertaking.
A movement caught his eye and he focussed on the distant figure of Dan waving to him and then crossing the field towards him. Doyle set out to meet him halfway. “Everything OK, Dan?” he asked as his colleague approached.
“Fine. Everything’s going well.” He paused. “Erm… someone at the Hall’s taken a phone call for us. Apparently the old man wants some more photos taken of the site. Which means Rick’s on his way down. He’ll be here in an hour or so.”
“Great,” Doyle murmured, gritting his teeth.
“Oh, and Ray -- don’t suppose you’ve seen our Mr. Bodie today have you?”
“No, not a sign of him, thank god.”
“You’ll have to speak to him, y’know. Apologise for last night. You were out of order, old son.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” Doyle sighed. “Don’t want to get his back up even more than we already have.” He stretched dramatically. “If he’s in the pub later I’ll have a word with him, OK? Looks like being a great evening, doesn’t it?” he groaned.
The walk downhill from his cottage to The Erskine Arms was a pleasant one and on a warm summer’s evening such as this it was a part of his regular routine that Bodie enjoyed. He called in at the pub most evenings for a pint or two and a chat with whoever happened to be in there at the time. He had realised long ago that he was much more likely to find out exactly what was happening on the Estate over a pint of beer than he ever was on his regular visits to the tenant farmers and Estate workers. As he approached he could see that the small car park was practically full -- the pub was always popular with day-trippers from nearby towns like Worthing or Horsham -- and a few people were standing around by the pub doorway. It wasn’t until he reached the bottom of the hill that he recognised two of the men in the car park. The two archaeologists, Doyle and Barker -- Doctors Doyle and Barker he corrected himself with a wry grin. The third man was unknown to him but was seemingly on the receiving end of a tirade from Doyle, whose arms were flailing around like windmills as he shouted into the face of the stranger. Bodie watched with interest as Barker intervened and pushed the man inside the pub, leaving Doyle staring after them, his fists clenched and his shoulders heaving with unspent anger. His back remained stolidly towards Bodie as the other man approached unheard.
“Scrappy little bugger, aren’t you,” Bodie observed.
“What?” Doyle replied absently, whirling to face the land agent.
“What?” he repeated incredulously as it registered who had spoken to him.
“You were all set to take a swing at me last night,” Bodie replied with a smirk. “Now you seem to have some other poor bloke in your sights.”
Doyle ran a hand distractedly through his hair as Bodie made his way past him. “Look, about last night. I’m sorry. I was drunk. It’s no excuse, I know…”
Bodie turned and considered him. “All right,” he said, nodding towards the pub. “Buy me a pint and we’ll forget it.”
Doyle looked at him, then at the pub, then back at Bodie. He took a deep breath. “Oh, sod it,” he said, pushing past Bodie and through the door. “Come on then.”
As Bodie had expected the pub was fairly busy. He spotted several familiar faces scattered around the bar in addition to many more unknown ones, and his gaze eventually alighted on Dan Barker and Doyle’s unknown adversary seated at a table in the corner. He noticed their conversation falter for a moment as they caught sight of Doyle. It was obvious to him that Doyle had also seen them and he seemed to hesitate for a second.
“Mine’s a bitter, thanks,” he said, drawing Doyle’s attention from the two men.
As Doyle ordered their drinks Bodie studied the pair. The blond stranger was talking quietly to Barker, who was obviously extremely uncomfortable with the whole situation. Whatever comments the man was making to Barker were interspersed with superior looking glances which were cast in Doyle’s direction. Bodie took an instant dislike to him. Barker was disagreeing vehemently with him about something, but the other man merely responded with a supercilious laugh. Bodie decided that his was the sort of face that deserved a smack.
He accepted his drink from Doyle with a word of thanks and proceeded to make a good third of it disappear in one gulp whilst Doyle sipped at his own almost nervously. Neither of them spoke for several minutes and then with a sudden movement Doyle all but slammed his still-full glass on the bar-top. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “This was a mistake. I’ve got to go.”
He turned without another word and swiftly left the pub, but was barely out of the door when he heard his name being called. “Doyle! Are you walking back up to the site?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll walk with you then if you don’t mind.” Doyle shrugged in reply and Bodie fell into step alongside him.
“What’s the story then?” Bodie eventually asked, breaking the silence which was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Doyle looked at him blankly. “You and your friend back there,” Bodie elaborated. “I’m guessing it’s more than just an argument over whose turn it is to buy the next round of drinks.”
Doyle seemed to be considering his reply. After breathing in audibly he responded. “He’s my ex.”
“Ex? As in…”
Doyle looked back at him defiantly. “Ex-lover. Ex-boyfriend. Whatever you want to call it.”
“Ah, I see…”
Doyle had been watching Bodie closely as he imparted the information. It had become something of a habit with him when the subject of his sexuality was being discussed. At the age of twenty Raymond Doyle had made the conscious decision that he would never lie about his inclinations if asked outright, and experience had taught him that while many people might pay lip-service to the ideal of sexual tolerance the reaction that showed in their faces was often at odds with the words that came out of their mouths. Right now he detected no sign of unease, disgust, amusement -- none of those negative reactions that he was all too familiar with. And yet there was a glimmer of something in Bodie’s eyes that he could not define.
“We were together for the best part of a year,” he continued, surprised at himself for feeling the need to offer any more information. “Our parting was ‘acrimonious’, as they say.” Bodie merely nodded. “Problem is that we work together from time to time so our paths often cross. That’s when the trouble starts.”
“He’s an archaeologist too?”
“He’s a pilot. We use him for our aerial surveys. He’s been sent down to do some more runs over the villa site, which means he’ll probably be here for several days.” Why am I bothering to tell you all this? he suddenly thought to himself.
“Not easy for you, then.”
“No.”
As they walked on Doyle welcomed the ensuing silence and Bodie’s obvious reluctance to discuss the matter further.
Nearing the top of the hill Bodie suddenly spoke. “How’s your work at the site coming along?”
“Slowly,” Doyle replied. “But that’s the nature of the work, of course. Can’t rush anything in our business.” He glanced at Bodie somewhat mischievously. “Didn’t think you were interested in what we’re doing.”
“I’m interested in anything that affects the Estate, naturally. Doesn’t mean I have to approve of it though, does it?”
Doyle detected a challenge being thrown his way. Convince me the other man seemed to be saying. “If you fancy a walk over to the site now I’ll explain what we’re doing,” he suggested.
“OK.”
“How can you know from a few photos that there’s a whole Roman villa down there, that’s what I don’t understand,” Bodie was saying. They were standing at the edge of one of the trenches looking down at the neatly scraped earth.
“It’s all to do with the vegetation and the way it grows,” Doyle explained. “Any structures lying beneath the surface prevent moisture getting through to the vegetation above, and from the air we can see the differences in those areas of vegetation compared to the surrounding areas where there are no submerged structures. In periods of drought like we’re having at the moment the differences are even more pronounced. This heatwave has been fantastic for us.”
He stopped, fully aware of his tendency to get carried away with his subject whilst boring his listener rigid. “I could show you the photos tomorrow, it’ll probably be clearer from them what I’m talking about.”
Bodie, however, was showing no signs of boredom. “So you’re positive it’s a villa?”
“Absolutely. Classic textbook outline. But a lot bigger than anything we’ve seen before in this country. That’s why we’re so excited about it.”
Bodie stood quietly for a while, seemingly lost in thought, and as he did so Doyle took the opportunity to surreptitiously study the man. He was a good looking bloke. Didn’t he remember saying the same thing to Dan last night? Well, it was true. He was. The dark, almost black, hair and deep blue eyes were an extremely attractive combination in Doyle’s view. Good body too; keeps himself fit, by the look of him.
“Something like this could really put the Estate on the map, couldn’t it?”
His voice startled Doyle out of his reverie. “In what way?” Doyle asked.
Bodie sighed. “We’re having a hell of a time trying to keep our heads above water here, I don’t mind telling you,” he said. “Estates like this are an anachronism in this day and age. We need to diversify. Tourism’s the answer in my opinion.”
Doyle sensed an air of frustration about the land agent and hazarded a guess at its cause. “But not in his Lordship’s opinion?” he suggested.
Bodie smiled ruefully. “Lord Erskine’s a good man,” he replied. “But he’s old school. His generation never had to worry about where the next thousand was coming from because the money had always been there. He just can’t grasp the fact that we’ve got to make changes if we’re going to survive.”
“And you’re having a job persuading him otherwise?”
Bodie nodded. “It’s the only way forward for us. I’ve been reading about that place you mentioned -- Fishbourne? Something like that could be the making of us.”
It was clear to Doyle that the Estate was immensely important to Bodie. His whole face became animated when he spoke of it, and the sardonic manner that had immediately irritated the archaeologist on their first meeting disappeared. Doyle was mesmerised. He suddenly realised that he was staring at the other man and he cleared his throat nervously
Bodie also seemed suddenly awkward, his shoes apparently taking on an air of fascination for him as he looked down at them. “Listen, Doyle,” he said almost hesitatingly. “I think we got off on the wrong foot when you arrived here. This whole thing was foisted upon me with only two or three days notice and it was a complete bloody nuisance as far as I was concerned. But I’ve had time to think about it over the past couple of days and I’ve changed my mind. I think that this is exactly what the Estate needs so, if you’re willing to start again, I hope that we’ll be able to work together.”
He looked up at Doyle with an expression on his face that immediately reminded the archaeologist of his five-year-old nephew when he’d been caught red-handed at something. He decided then that there was a lot more to Mr. Bodie than met the eye. “Absolutely,” Doyle shrugged. “Suits me fine.”
“Something else I meant to mention too -- there are six bathrooms up at the Hall and only two are in regular use. Your people are welcome to use the others. Just have a word with Mrs. Keeble, the housekeeper. Tell her I said it was OK.”
It was clear to Doyle that an olive branch of sorts was being extended and he accepted it gratefully. “That’s great,” he replied, genuinely appreciative of the offer. “Thanks very much. It’s not easy working in conditions like this with no proper way of getting cleaned up. It’ll be much appreciated, by everyone.”
Bodie looked almost embarrassed at the thanks. He fell silent and stood looking across the field toward the Hall. Doyle looked at him and racked his brain for something to say. “This place must mean an awful lot to you,” he ventured after a few minutes. “How long have you been here?”
“All my life,” Bodie replied. “Well, apart from a few years away in the Army.”
Ah, the Army, Doyle thought. That explains a lot. The immaculate turn-out, never a hair out of place. Even the way he stands. “You were born here?”
“That’s right. Parents both worked on the estate. My father was a gamekeeper, my mother worked up at the Hall.” He paused for a moment, staring into the distance again and seemingly lost in his memories.
“But you didn’t want to stay?” Doyle prompted after a while.
Bodie shook his head. “Wanted to see the world, not spend my life stuck down here in the middle of nowhere. Decided the Army was my best option.”
“You came back eventually though.”
There was another pause and then Bodie turned and looked at him, any sign of wistfulness now disappeared, his manner completely composed again. “Did my four years at college, got my degree, and came back to the Estate. Two years as assistant to old man Thomson and then took over when he retired.” Doyle was surprised when Bodie suddenly grinned at him and gestured expansively. “There you have it. My life in a nutshell,” he declared.
Doyle could not help but grin back at him.
For some reason Doyle’s reaction seemed to unsettle the other man. He pulled his jacket tighter around him as if suddenly cold, even though the night was balmy. “Well, I won’t keep you any longer,” he said, checking his watch. “I’ve enjoyed our chat, Dr. Doyle. Thanks for explaining things to me.”
“My pleasure. And it’s Ray by the way.”
“Bodie.”
Doyle looked confused. “Just Bodie?” he asked.
“Just Bodie,” the land agent replied enigmatically.
He turned and began to stride across the field then turned and looked back at Doyle. “I’d like to see those photographs tomorrow,” he called. “If you get the time.”
“Of course. Goodnight, Bodie.”
“Goodnight, Ray.”
Doyle stood and watched as the departing figure disappeared into the fading light. After a few minutes he turned and looked down at the trench, trying to form a plan of action for the next day’s digging. But when he eventually made his way to his tent his thoughts could not have been further away from his work.
Later, as Doyle sat looking down at the notes he’d made during the day, trying to make at least some small semblance of sense out of them, he was completely unaware that less than half a mile away the man who was currently occupying his thoughts was also having problems with his concentration.
Bodie had spent the best part of the day coming to terms with the fact that he’d been attracted to Ray Doyle at the time of their first meeting. And that the attraction had grown each time they’d met subsequently. But over the years Bodie had become an expert at keeping his inclinations firmly in check, succumbing only when his sexual frustrations had become so intolerable that they had threatened to overwhelm him. Such occasions, however, were few and far between and even then had only involved men who were of no consequence to him and whose paths he was unlikely ever to cross again. His years in the Army, with the ever-present threat of dishonourable discharge hanging over him, had taught him how best to control his impulses and during all that time he had bedded only women. In the years since then his sexual experiences with women far outnumbered those he’d had with men, and although there was nearly always the feeling of settling for second-best with the majority of his female partners on occasions he had genuinely experienced real fulfilment with them. Every now and again though, someone like Ray Doyle would come along. A man whom he wanted so much that he could think of barely anything else. The fact that these men were almost always unobtainable was not lost on him, and that was the key to his control. There were always one or more reasons why he couldn’t have them, and eventually that usually proved enough for him to convince himself that he didn’t desire these men after all. On his first encounter with Doyle he had grasped at two factors which would help him suppress his desire. Firstly he didn’t like the man very much at all, saw him as a bloody nuisance and didn’t want him or his precious excavation anywhere within a hundred miles of the Estate. Secondly, the man was so obviously straight that the whole idea of seducing him was ridiculous anyway. Tonight both those lifelines had been torn from him. Bodie was gradually discovering that he did like Doyle, enjoyed his company, found him easy to talk to. And, to his great surprise, Doyle was not only homosexual but was completely open and honest about it. Bodie knew he was lost.
Doyle had been in their tent for about an hour when Dan made an appearance. As he entered, Doyle’s notes, which he had piled on his bed and on the floor, were scattered in all directions. Ignoring his colleague’s vociferous protests Dan threw himself onto his bed with a loud sigh. “I’ve taken just about as much of that bugger as I’m going to,” he seethed. “Two hours of constant moaning and sniping -- mainly about you, I hasten to add. How on earth you managed to live with him as long as you did is beyond me.”
Doyle shrugged. “It wasn’t that bad at first, y’know,” he replied. Dan fixed him with a withering stare. “Yeah, OK. It was that bad at first,” Doyle conceded with a wry grin. Understatement of the year, that must be, he thought. It had been a completely horrendous time and even now he had no idea why he had even contemplated a future with Rick. Lust, that’s all it was. The only thing we had in common.
He gathered his notes together in silence as Dan lay back on his bed and sighed once more. “Rick’s contract is up in about a month. I’m going to recommend that we don’t renew it,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“Why would you want to do that?” Doyle asked.
“Because I don’t think I can work with him anymore.”
He sat up again and looked at Doyle. “Look, we both know that Rick doesn’t really give a damn about what we’re doing. As long as he gets paid for his services he’s happy. There are plenty of other pilots who are just as good at their job. As far as I’m concerned it’s time for a change.”
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Dan was starting to look uncomfortable. “Tell me, Dan.”
“OK. Yes, there is. I can’t sit by and listen to him slagging you off all the time. Some of things he was saying -- well, I’m not going to repeat them so don’t ask me.”
“Don’t take any notice, Dan. He’s got a vicious tongue. It’s all water off a duck’s back to me.”
“No, Ray. Fine friend I’d be if I just sat placidly by while he was spouting off about you. You know what I’m like, I can’t deal with conflict of any kind. Anything for a quiet life, that’s me. But I’ve had enough of it.”
Doyle looked at his friend with affection. The stocky redhead was a quiet and simple soul at heart. He projected an air of exuberance most of the time to disguise his innate shyness, but deep down he was really a reserved and somewhat introverted character. But he was fiercely loyal to his friends, and Doyle was proud to be one of them. He knew that having to listen to Rick’s snide remarks would be tearing Dan apart.
Doyle took a deep breath. “Well, mate, I can’t deny that having Rick off the scene would make my life a whole lot easier. If I never had to clap eyes on him again it’d be too soon. Even so, just to end his contract like that…”
“That’s settled then. In a month’s time neither of us will ever have to see him again.”
Dan lay back on the bed again. “Having to listen to him all night has worn me out. I’m knackered.”
He suddenly sat up again. “Where did you get to after the pub, then?” he asked.
“Had a walk down to the site with Bodie,” Doyle replied.
“Bloody hell, I’ll bet that was fun.”
“Well, yeah, it was OK actually. He’s genuinely interested in what we’re doing and how it can benefit the Estate.”
“Oh yeah? Last time I saw him he was looking at us like something he’d found on the bottom of his shoe.”
Doyle laughed. “No, we just all got off on the wrong foot, that’s all. Bodie’s all right.”
Dan studied him closely. “Raymond?” he purred. “Do I detect something other than a work-based interest here?”
“What?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Shit, he thought. Never underestimate Dan’s ability to read you like a book, Doyle.
“Don’t forget your cardinal rule, Ray. Never…”
“Yeah, I know. Never fall for a straight man. You’re barking up the wrong tree completely, Dan.”
“Well, I’m relieved to hear it. Are you going to keep that light on all night?”
“No. I’ll sort these notes out in the morning. Could do with a proper office really, couldn’t we? Might have to try and find something somewhere.”
Doyle leaned over and turned off the gas lamp. He thought about what Dan had said and felt a sense of elation at the idea of Rick finally disappearing from his life. The man went out of his way to make his life a misery. How could he have ever have been so stupid as to get involved with him? Did he ever really like him? No, of course he didn’t. If there hadn’t been that sexual frisson between them then their personal contact would have been non-existent. A big mistake. The biggest mistake of his life, no doubt about it. On the other hand, he was starting to contemplate something that could prove to be an even bigger mistake. But no, he decided. Even he wasn’t foolish enough to hope… .
The darkness was overwhelming. Something you never really experience when you live in a city, Doyle thought. Complete and total darkness. Nobody can see what you’re doing, nobody knows what you’re thinking. He wrapped the darkness around him like a cloak and allowed his innermost thoughts to surface. Dan’s steady breathing and soft snoring told him that his friend was sleeping soundly. His hand moved downwards inside his sleeping bag and wrapped itself around his cock. He began pumping slowly, biting his lip to stop any noise that might disturb the other occupant of the tent. For the first time in many months he didn’t need to conjure up some fantasy figure in his mind’s eye. Not some model he’d seen in a magazine, a face he’d glimpsed on the bus, a body in the gym. A real person. Flesh and blood, hard muscle and soft skin. And deep blue eyes, framed by outrageously long, dark lashes. And a mouth that you could never tire of kissing. A small whimper escaped as he came into his hand, not enough to disturb Dan, thank god. A temporary release, but not enough. Nothing like enough. Christ, he hadn’t wanted anyone like this for years. Probably hadn’t ever wanted anyone like this before if he thought about it properly. Another brilliant development to your love life, Doyle. The ones you get you don’t really want, and the ones you do want…
He turned and buried his face in his pillow. What sort of fucking mess was he getting himself into now?
Doyle woke with a start as his bed was rattled violently. “What the bloody hell’s going on?” he mumbled, trying to raise his head from his pillow and failing miserably.
“Sorry, Ray. I tripped,” came Dan’s voice, which was far too bright and cheery in Doyle’s opinion for what was obviously still the middle of the night.
“What’s going on?” he asked, yawning.
“Going to make a few runs over the site, get some more photos. It’s a beautiful clear morning, the light’s far too good to waste.”
Doyle groaned, pulled his sleeping bag up over his head and tried to ignore the racket Dan was making as he got dressed.
He was suddenly gripped by a moment of panic as he recalled the involuntary noises he had found himself making last night, and he could feel a cold sweat start to break out as he wondered whether Dan had had any clue about his nocturnal activities. Dan, of course, being the soul of discretion, would never refer to it even if he had.
His friend’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Right, I’m off then. See you later.”
And with that he was gone, leaving Doyle with a brain full of vivid memories of his previous night’s fantasy, a burgeoning morning erection, and absolutely no doubt in his mind as to what he was going to do with them. And with the added luxury of an empty tent too…
Doyle could sense that his group of second-year students were starting to get restless. Not that he could blame them -- even at eleven in the morning the sun was beating down relentlessly, and an hour spent listening to him lecturing them on stratigraphy was probably just about enough for them. “OK then, ladies and gents,” he said, dismissing them. “Go and get yourselves a cold drink and report back to your supervisors in thirty minutes.”
He watched as they ambled off towards the makeshift kitchen they’d set up. Not a bad bunch, all considered. He’d certainly had worse. Fantastic opportunity for them of course, getting involved in a dig like this in their second year. He’d have given his right arm…
“Morning, Ray!”
The sound of Bodie’s voice threw him out of kilter for a second. He knew he’d feel like this when he saw him next. Don’t be a bloody idiot, he told himself. How the hell could he know? Not as if you’ve got it tattooed on your forehead -- ‘I’ve tossed myself off twice in the past twelve hours thinking about you’. Get a grip, Doyle…
Even so he found himself taking a deep breath before turning to face the other man, a slightly nervous smile plastered on his face. “Morning,” he replied, more than a little disgusted at himself at the shakiness of his voice. Bodie, thank god, appeared not to notice.
“Take it that was your friend buzzing us at sunrise?”
Doyle grimaced. “I’d hardly describe him as that, but yes it was. Sorry if it disturbed you. Best time of the day, you see. And just before sunset too, of course. Long shadows, you see. Shows up all the lumps and bumps.” Shut up, Doyle. You’re rambling…
Bodie smiled. “No, it didn’t disturb me. I was already up. Like to try and visit our tenant farmers early in the mornings. Breakfast is usually the best time to catch them. Keep myself well supplied with bacon sarnies that way too, of course.” And he grinned that grin at Doyle again, the same as last night. The one that Doyle could not resist returning, while all the time his knees were turning to jelly. “Look, I won’t disturb you. I can see you’re busy,” Bodie continued rather hurriedly. “Could we have a chat tonight in the pub? If you’re not tied up, of course. There’s a few things I’d like to ask you about the dig.”
“Yeah, OK. I’ll bring the aerial photos if you like. Be easier to explain exactly what’s going on.”
Bodie nodded. “See you about eight then?”
“Fine,” Doyle replied.
“Right then.”
Bodie stood for a few seconds, seemingly about to add something and then changing his mind. He smiled and nodded at Doyle once more then turned and made his way back across the field.
Doyle took a deep breath and tried to ignore the fluttering in his stomach. For Christ’s sake, the man hasn’t asked you out on a date, you idiot, he chastised himself. It’s work, nothing more. Nevertheless, he still found it impossible to resist the urge to glance at his watch and work out how many hours remained until his meeting with Bodie.
Doyle arrived for his appointment early. The Erskine Arms was virtually empty, probably because Doyle had been one of the first through the doors when they’d been unlocked at seven o’clock. He ordered a pint of bitter, settled himself on a bar stool and was pleased to note that he had the landlord’s undivided attention. His plan of action had been worked out gradually throughout the day, the main point of it being that he intended finding out all he could about Bodie. And where better to find out all the gory details than the local pub. This was where he would discover that Bodie was a blissfully happily married man with three or four kids. He could then resign himself to the inevitable and concentrate on building a successful working relationship with the land agent, without any of the distractions that were currently threatening to throw him into a state of complete turmoil.
Jack, the publican, was eyeing him rather suspiciously as he pulled Doyle’s pint. “I hope we’re not going to have any more unpleasantness with you and our Mr. Bodie,” he said, the expression on his face leaving Doyle in no doubt that he would be thrown out on his arse if there was.
“Sorry about that,” he replied somewhat shamefaced. “All a big misunderstanding. Bodie and I have patched up our differences. I’m meeting him for a drink tonight, as it happens.”
“Well, I’m pleased to hear it,” said Jack. “For your sake, as much as anything.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “He’s a tough man, is Mr. Bodie. He’d have wiped the floor with you, y’know.”
“Expect you’ve known him a long time, have you?”
“Since he was born,” Jack nodded, smiling. “Known his Mum and Dad all me life too. Nice family. ‘Course the boy was a bit of a handful, but the Army sorted him out.”
Doyle lifted his pint and took a drink in an attempt to cover a smile. Somehow he couldn’t see Bodie taking too kindly to being referred to as “the boy.” “Nice for his Mum and Dad that he came back here to settle down then. Start a family and all that,” Doyle ventured innocently.
Jack looked at him incredulously and then laughed. “Settle down! Him? Dear me, no! Got a bit of reputation he has, to tell the truth. Goes through the ladies like there’s no tomorrow, does young William. Not just the village girls either. Them posh young birds that they get up at the Hall, he’s had plenty of them an’ all.”
Doyle felt his heart sink. He’d almost -- almost -- convinced himself that this was exactly what he’d wanted to hear, but even so… “Bit of a lad then, is he?” he asked quietly.
“You could say that. Mind you, not that he ever seems to lead any of those lasses on. They know where they stand with him all right. A bit of fun, no strings attached, and then he moves on to the next one.”
Doyle smiled weakly at the other man. “Bully for him then, eh?”
Jack laughed again and wandered to the other end of the bar to serve another customer.
That’s it then. Not only a confirmed heterosexual, but a fucking randy one at that. Fantasy time’s over, Doyle. The sense of relief that he’d told himself he would feel at such revelations somehow failed to materialise. Instead he felt such a keen sense of disappointment that it almost made him ache. It was so bloody unfair. Not only did he fancy Bodie more than anyone else he’d ever met in his life but he’d also felt that, despite their bad start, there was a chance that their friendship could become something really special. Still, there was nothing to stop them becoming friends, was there? He could have a perfectly platonic friendship with a straight man, couldn’t he? He did with Dan, why not with Bodie? The only difference being that he’d never felt like shagging Dan into the middle of next week and somehow he thought that was likely to make any friendship between him and Bodie just a little bit difficult to say the least. He took another swig at his beer and grimaced as the lukewarm liquid went down without even touching his thirst. Why on earth they couldn’t serve a decent cold lager in this place he had no idea. The whole bloody village needed dragging into the twentieth century. The feudal system would never be dead while villages like Warenford existed; he wouldn’t mind betting that the old ‘droit du seigneur’ was still going strong as well. Mind you, Lord Erskine was probably a bit past it now. No doubt that was something else that his land agent took care of for him.
With that depressing thought Doyle emptied his glass and signalled to Jack for a refill.
By the time his third pint had disappeared Doyle had come to a decision. He’d waited years for something as exciting as this excavation to come along and he would probably never get another opportunity to participate in anything as important. He wasn’t going to throw it all away just because his libido went into overdrive every time he clapped eyes on Bodie. He knew he was good at his job and he owed it to himself to carry out this dig properly and successfully. Not only to himself but to Dan and to the old man too, and to everyone else who was involved in the project from the lowliest digger upwards. Any feelings that Bodie aroused in him would be studiously ignored; not so difficult really considering that Bodie wasn’t interested in him. Not as though he’d have to fight off the other man’s advances or anything. And if he got particularly horny he’d just take himself off and find a nice willing partner for a night or two. Brighton wasn’t that far away, there was always plenty of talent around in the bars there. And who knows, he might even find more than just a few quick fucks. Maybe his soulmate was sitting in a beachside bar at this very moment just waiting for Doyle to turn up and find him. He smiled ruefully to himself at this particular flight of fancy. Don’t suppose you’d recognise your soulmate if he was staring you in the face, he thought. Not had much success at finding him so far, have you?
The sound of laughter coming from the table by the door brought him back to reality and he looked up to see Bodie obviously sharing a joke with the two old men who were sitting there. He took a deep breath as Bodie turned and approached the bar, determined that the expression on his face would convey a friendly welcome and nothing more. It was far from easy however; dressed casually in a loose-fitting shirt and cords, it was the first time that Doyle had seen Bodie in anything other than his customary tweed jacket and cavalry twills. For a second or two Doyle drank in the sight of him then reluctantly turned his attention back to his unfinished pint.
He jumped as a hand landed on his shoulder. “Hello, Ray. Been here long?”
“No, not long,” Doyle lied as he wiped the spilt beer from his chin with the back of his hand. “What are you drinking?”
“A pint would go down nicely, thanks.”
Doyle ordered Bodie’s drink, and another for himself, and indicated the bulky envelope which was lying on the bar-top. “I’ve brought those photos for you to take a look at,” Doyle said casually.
“Good. How many of them are there?”
“A lot.”
“Better go through here then, the tables are bigger.” And with that Bodie picked up both pint glasses and made his way through to the back room, leaving Doyle following in his wake with his precious envelope clutched in his hand and his eyes firmly focussed upon Bodie’s backside.
Christ, but those trousers are tight.
When the two men emerged from the pub a couple of hours later Doyle was in a quandary. He knew that working with Bodie would be good; the land agent had bombarded him with intelligent and carefully thought out questions during the time that they’d been studying the photographs, and his quick grasp of the technicalities involved in their interpretation had impressed Doyle. More than impressed him, in fact, as Doyle knew from experience that it wasn’t something that everyone could do. Some sort of inbuilt ability which enabled a person to transfer the flat image of the photo into a three-dimensional awareness of the subject was necessary, and Bodie obviously had that ability, much to Doyle’s delight. He shot a quick glance in Bodie’s direction as they walked up the lane back towards the site and puzzled, not for the first time, at the seemingly conflicting facets of the other man’s personality. The glaring animosity that Bodie had shown towards him and the project in general had disappeared completely, to be replaced by a new-found enthusiasm that Doyle would have found encouraging in anyone else but in Bodie’s case only served to increase his sense of disconcertion.
Doyle had worked with some pretty uncooperative and unhelpful people in his time; real bastards, some of them. Which was exactly as he’d expected Bodie to turn out after their first few meetings. In many ways it would have made life a lot easier if his initial impression of the other man had turned out to be correct. His dealings with Bodie could then have been kept on a strictly professional level, and he would have been able to deal with the attraction that he felt towards him. It might not have been easy, but he could have done it. He knew he could. But now, with Bodie threatening to become almost as wound up in the project as he was himself, things didn’t look quite so simple. The two hours he had just spent in Bodie’s company had added to his confusion in many ways, but out of all that confusion one blindingly clear fact had emerged; Bodie was just about everything he’d ever wanted rolled up in one package. With one important exception, of course. Doyle bit into his bottom lip as he made himself say the words over and over in his head. He’s straight, he’s straight, he’s… Before he could stop himself he had sighed loudly and was hastily trying to disguise it as a yawn when he looked across to see Bodie frowning at him.
“Christ, I’m sorry Ray,” Bodie said apologetically. “I wasn’t thinking. You’ve been working outside in this heat all day and here’s me making you pore over a load of photos all night.”
Doyle looked back at him, suddenly wishing that he’d never set eyes on the other man. No, that’s not true, he corrected himself. Just wish you were still the black-tempered tosser we found when we first arrived here. Just wish you weren’t being so bloody nice all of a sudden.
He realised that Bodie was still looking at him, obviously waiting for him to reply. “It’s OK, I didn’t mind,” he smiled. “Quite enjoyed it in fact. You’re a good student.”
Bodie smiled back at him. “You’re a good teacher.”
Doyle met Bodie’s steady gaze for a second or two then forced himself to look away. As they continued to walk in silence he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the road, sending small clouds of dust upwards as he kicked at several small stones that appeared in his path.
Suddenly realising that Bodie was no longer at his side he looked up to find that they had reached the gate to the land agent’s cottage and that Bodie was already walking up the pathway to his door. “Oh, sorry,” he said, gathering his thoughts as best he could. “I was miles away there. Well, g’night then.”
Bodie turned and looked back at him, and for one moment Doyle was afraid that he might be about to invite him inside. Any more time alone in Bodie’s company was the last thing he needed right now. He purposely kept his gaze averted as Bodie took a few steps back towards him, missing the pained expression that briefly flickered on the other man’s face. “’Night, Ray. Oh, and thanks for showing me the photos. The whole thing’s a lot clearer now.”
“Good. Be seeing you then.”
He had taken a total of two steps away from the gateway when Bodie called after him. “Ray, I was wondering… if you’re not too busy tomorrow… maybe we could take a walk across the field down there. You could point out some of the features in the photos, give me an even better idea of what’s what.”
“Erm, yeah… I’d be pleased to,” Doyle replied, trying to ignore the turmoil inside him. He could feel himself being torn in two directions; common sense telling him to keep Bodie at a distance whilst the enthusiast and teacher in him were delighting at the prospect of imparting his knowledge to a new disciple.
Bodie grinned at him. “See you tomorrow then,” he said.
“Yeah, tomor… Oh! No, sorry -- can’t do it tomorrow,” Doyle suddenly exclaimed as his mind began to work again. “I’m driving up to Oxford first thing in the morning. I won’t be back until the following day. Got to get myself sorted out with an office -- there’s so much paper in that bloody tent there’s hardly room for me and Dan any more.”
“Doesn’t seem ideal, having an office in Oxford when all the work’s going on down here,” Bodie observed.
“It’s not ideal,” Doyle agreed, shaking his head in exasperation. “I’m going to see if they’ll agree to my renting somewhere nearby, Worthing or Horsham perhaps. If they won’t fork up the cash for that I’ll have to take what I can find at the University.”
“Well, I wish you luck then. See you when you get back.”
Doyle raised a hand in acknowledgement and set off on the short journey along the lane to the site.
Standing in his front garden, ostensibly studying his rapidly drying-out hanging baskets, Bodie watched until the slight figure rounded the bend in the road and disappeared from sight. By the time he’d let himself into the cottage a plan had already started to form in his brain.
Bodie lay on his bed fully-clothed, indulging in the feeling of security as the semi-darkness surrounded him. The night was clear and he’d purposely left the curtains pulled back to allow the moonlight to flood the room. He fixed his eyes on the ceiling, tracing the cracks and bumps in the plaster that he knew so well. This place had been his home for so long now; even before he’d lived in the cottage it had been like a second home to him, having been brought up with the children of old man Thomson. He’d even courted the old boy’s daughter Maggie for a while before he’d joined the Army. She was a nice kid, he remembered. Last he’d heard she’d married a sailor and was living in Portsmouth with several children.
Christ, it seemed like a bloody lifetime away. At least Maggie had found someone; someone that mattered to her. More than he’d ever done with his miserable life. And yet…
The face that came unbidden to his mind was one that he’d taken his leave of not thirty minutes before. Ray Doyle. What was it about the man that was affecting him like nobody else had done before? Just about everything if he was being honest.
There’d been the odd look before tonight that had made him suspect -- hope -- that his interest wasn’t totally one-sided. But now he was in no doubt. He’d seen it written on Ray’s face more than once while they were leaning over that table, head-to-head, in the pub. And on the way back up the hill -- there was no mistaking the look in those green eyes. He’d never seen anyone with eyes as expressive as Ray’s. The attraction was mutual all right. Everything that Ray was thinking was there to see in his eyes. Beautiful eyes….
His hands gripped the bed covers that were rucked up beneath him. So what? So he fancies you as much as you fancy him. And you’ll do fuck all about it. It should be perfect. They wanted each other, they were both available. What could be simpler? His harsh laughter echoed in the quietness of his bedroom.
Simple? Simple in London perhaps. Probably simple in Oxford, come to that. Not so simple in a small Sussex village where you’ve lived all your life, where everyone knows your business, where your family would have to run the gamut of gossip and cruel whisperings. And all because their son happened to be a man who liked to fuck other men.
He turned over violently in his bed and stared at the tops of the trees outside his window. Just the other side of those trees Ray Doyle would no doubt be sleeping soundly in his tent. Was there any chance that he was lying awake tearing himself apart like this too? None whatsoever, Bodie imagined.
Suddenly he was blindingly angry at himself for allowing these feelings of self-pity to take hold. Launching himself off the bed, he strode to the window and looked out. He knew that there was very little chance that he would get much sleep tonight. He needed to get his thoughts in order, to work out exactly what he was going to do about this whole wretched situation.
The room suddenly seemed suffocatingly hot and stuffy. He needed to be out, to breathe in some fresh air and clear his head of the jumble of wild fantasies that were threatening to overwhelm him. Descending the stairs swiftly he grabbed his jacket and his keys and was out of the cottage before he’d even realised he was moving. Oblivious to the beauty of the brilliantly moonlit night Bodie set off along the lane, regardless of where his steps were taking him, just knowing that he had to keep walking, keep moving. After a while he broke into a jog and then a run, gaining momentum as sped down the hill to the village. Veering off before he reached the High Street he skirted around the churchyard and then doubled back on himself, but instead of carrying straight on at the crossroads, back to his cottage, he took the road to the right up towards the Hall. Running on autopilot, and completely unaware of his surroundings or ultimate destination, he was gradually overtaken by a sense of exhilaration as his body responded to the demands he placed upon it. Concentrating as hard as he was upon his physical efforts it was something of a surprise to him to realise that his mind suddenly felt at ease. Without consciously thinking of the problem that had brought him out here in the first place he was nevertheless aware that he now knew exactly how to deal with it. He began to slow his pace gradually, finally coming to a halt by a conveniently placed tree upon which he leaned for a minute or so while his breathing evened out again. He thought again about his decision, sure in every way that it was the only choice he could possibly make, and with that settled in his mind he looked around him as he became fully aware of his surroundings for the first time since leaving his cottage twenty minutes earlier.
He was surprised to find himself standing in front of the Estate Office. He had no idea why he was there, and yet he’d brought his keys so somewhere in the back of his mind he must have intended….
It suddenly came back to him; the germ of an idea that had sprung up in his head when Doyle had left him earlier that night. A stupid idea, now he came to consider it properly, especially in the light of the decision he had just reached. But still, Doyle needed an office and it made much more sense for him to be on site than miles away in Horsham or, worse still, Oxford. Letting himself into the building he turned on the light, hung his jacket on the back of a chair and prepared to spend the next few hours engrossed in hard manual labour.
As Ray Doyle slowly eased the Land Rover through the ornate main gate and onto the road he fervently hoped that he’d started his journey early enough to avoid the bulk of the traffic. Not that he minded the drive -- it was actually quite a pleasant one -- but spending hours crawling along at a snail’s pace when there were so many other things that he needed to be doing was not his idea of time fruitfully spent. Still, it was another bright and sunny morning and even the prospect of having to beg his Head of Department for more money for the project was not enough to spoil his similarly sunny mood.
As he approached the small, tidy building that he knew housed the Estate Office his thoughts strayed, as they’d been doing constantly since the previous night, to the subject of Mr. William Bodie and what the hell he was going to do about him. On this occasion however those thoughts were interrupted by a manic figure which leapt from the driving seat of the small white pick-up parked in front of the building and began waving its arms frantically at him. Pulling up a few yards further down the road Doyle was just opening his door when the red-faced man -- whom Doyle had recognised as Bodie’s assistant -- approached him. “That was a bit of luck,” the man gasped. “Mr. Bodie would have had my guts for garters if I’d missed you.”
Doyle looked at him perplexed. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Dunno rightly,” the man -- Tom? Tim? Doyle couldn’t recall his name exactly -- replied. “All I know is that Mr. Bodie said I had to catch you before you set off for Oxford. Something in the office here that might save you a journey, he said.”
“Right. Better come and take a look then, hadn’t I,” Doyle answered, somewhat intrigued. He climbed back into the Land Rover and backed up, parking neatly behind the pick-up, as Tom/Tim followed at a rather more sedate pace before climbing into the vehicle and driving off with a wave of his hand.
The sight that greeted him when he entered the office almost caused Doyle to laugh out loud. Gone was the neat and tidy, never-a-hair-out-of-place Bodie that he had been used to seeing up until now. Instead the land agent was leaning back against a desk looking decidedly exhausted, hair sticking up at odd angles, dirt on his face and even more on his clothes -- clothes which, Doyle noted with interest, were the same ones that he’d been wearing last night- and generally looking like something that the cat had dragged in.
“What the hell have you been doing?” Doyle sniggered. The tired smile that Bodie shot back at him almost made Doyle melt on the spot.
Without a word Bodie pushed himself up off the desk and, indicating to Doyle that he should follow, crossed the room to a door which bore the legend “W A P Bodie, Estate Manager”. Doyle was only slightly less intrigued by the impressive array of initials than he was by Bodie’s mysterious dishevelment.
Bodie entered his office with Doyle in his wake and then proceeded to open yet another door before standing back and gesturing to Doyle that he should precede him. “You said that you needed an office,” Bodie said as Doyle passed him. “Will this do for you?”
Doyle looked around with a somewhat stupefied expression on his face. “What?” he replied.
Bodie suddenly looked embarrassed. “I know it’s a bit cramped, and it’ll need a good clean up. But there’s a decent sized desk, and a couple of filing cabinets. There’s a phone point in here too. We’ve been using it to store old files and stuff for years, but I’ve cleared them all out.”
When Doyle failed to reply Bodie’s embarrassment seemed to increase. “Just thought it might suit you better than Oxford or Horsham,” he added in a decidedly small voice. “Probably not the sort of thing you wanted, eh?”
Doyle turned to look at him, fighting the urge to hug him. He settled for a face-splitting grin instead. “Bodie, it’s bloody perfect!”
“Really?”
“Are you kidding?”
Bodie’s equilibrium was instantly restored. “Haven’t shown you the piece-de-resistance yet,” he declared as he pulled an old chair away from the wall. “There you are -- there’s even a safe for you to store all that buried treasure you’re intending to find.”
Doyle’s delighted laughter filled the room, then died away as the realisation of exactly what Bodie had done hit him. “Bloody hell, Bodie,” he said quietly. “You’ve been up all fucking night getting this sorted out, haven’t you?”
Bodie shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep,” he replied, starting to look embarrassed again. “Started thinking about you needing an office. Thought I’d come down and see if we could make anything of this place.”
Doyle shook his head. “Don’t know what to say except, well… thanks mate.” He started to raise his hand towards Bodie’s shoulder then thought better of it as a flicker of alarm crossed the other man’s face.
For several long seconds there was almost tangible atmosphere in the room which only disappeared when Doyle cleared his throat loudly. “Ummm…” he began, floundering for something to say next. “Suppose I should phone my boss and tell him that I won’t be turning up there today after all.” He gestured towards Bodie’s office. “OK if I use your phone?”
Bodie nodded. “Help yourself,” he replied.
Doyle went through into the next room and lifted the telephone receiver. From where he was standing he could see Bodie, still in the same position and looking so bloody dejected. Doyle felt a pang of concern for the other man. Must be bloody knackered, poor sod, he thought. I’ll treat him to lunch at the pub later. Least I can do. If he can stay awake that long.
He was halfway through dialling the number when a sudden thought hit him. Just a few short hours before he had decided to start keeping Bodie at arm’s length, to discourage any friendly contact between them, to keep their relationship at a purely professional level. And now here he was, about to start sharing an office with the man and planning on buying him lunch.
Doyle sighed. This was not going to be easy…
Mid September 1976
The sudden lashing of the rain against the window made Doyle look up from the sheet of paper upon which he was writing. The seemingly never-ending drought had finally broken a few days earlier, and the ensuing three days of non-stop rain had brought a temporary halt to their excavations. Time was against them now, of course. With fewer hours of daylight at their disposal and the inevitably worsening weather conditions, Doyle had taken the decision to start scaling-down their operations in preparation for the winter. The majority of the students would be returning to the University during the course of the next week, leaving just Dan and himself and a small team behind to consolidate the site and ensure that the trenches were able to withstand the worst of the Sussex winter. Another month or so and Doyle would also be going back to Oxford; he relished the thought of sleeping in his own bed once more and enjoying the luxury of showering under endless hot water. No more camp beds, no more damp sleeping bags, no more draughty tents…
No more Bodie. The words came into his mind before he was even aware that he’d been thinking of Bodie. And yet how many minutes of the day were there when he wasn’t thinking of the land agent?
He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. He’d tried so hard to put an end to his fantasising about the other man, but had failed miserably. How could he stop his imagination running riot when Bodie was quite simply everything he’d ever wanted? He’d been kidding himself when he’d thought that he would be able to deal maturely and sensibly with sharing his office space. Too often he had found himself sitting gazing at Bodie through the open office door as the land agent worked at his desk. In fact if his office had been less of a shoe-box Doyle would have rearranged things so that he sat with his back to the door and would therefore have more chance of resisting the temptation to sit and stare. It was probably fortunate, then, that Bodie’s friendship had seemed to cool somewhat over the weeks since Doyle had moved into the Estate Office. At first Doyle had become almost paranoid at the thought that he might have said or done something which had made Bodie aware of exactly how he felt about him. The thought had thrown him into a panic when it had first occurred to him, but Bodie had shown no signs of any personal animosity towards him during their increasingly infrequent dealings, and Doyle had eventually decided that there was little chance that Bodie had any idea whatsoever that Doyle’s interest in him was anything other than innocent. At one point Doyle had even reluctantly considered that Bodie’s obvious discomfort around him must be due to his sexuality. God knows it had happened to him plenty of times before and would no doubt happen many more times in the future. In Bodie’s case, however, Doyle couldn’t believe that that was the case. Any homophobia on Bodie’s part would surely have been apparent as soon as he had learned that Doyle was gay. No, the reason for Bodie’s gradual indifference towards him was a mystery which Doyle wished he could solve.
Give it a rest, Doyle, he chided himself silently. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? A bit of distance between the two of you. Just lucky for you that he’s done it for you because if it’d been left to you you’d have got nowhere. He sighed and tried to concentrate on the papers on his desk again. He couldn’t help feeling a sense of loss. He and Bodie could have been friends, he knew they could. He did want Bodie as a friend, but getting too close could only end in disaster.
Christ, you don’t know what the hell you want do you?
No, that wasn’t true. He knew exactly what he wanted.
He wanted Bodie. End of story.
Looking down once more at his papers he forced himself to focus on the words he had written earlier. He picked up his pen and impatiently scribbled out a good two-thirds of them before allowing another sigh to escape.
The sudden opening of the office door and the appearance of Dan startled him out of his thoughts. As his colleague seated himself on the edge of the desk and began to rummage through that morning’s post Doyle began writing again. “You should be doing this you know,” he complained. “I’m bloody hopeless at asking the committee for more funding. I try to grovel but it always comes out as though I’m demanding money with menaces. You’re much better at begging than I am.”
Dan ignored him as he opened his letters. He cast two aside disinterestedly but read the third with a look of glee upon his face. “So, that’s that then!” he announced triumphantly.
“Hmm? What’s what then?” Doyle asked as he scribbled out yet more of his efforts.
“Rick has now been officially notified that his contract will not be renewed.”
Doyle looked at him askance. “Losing our work will make a big difference to him, you know. Doesn’t seem right that someone can lose such a big part of their income in one fell swoop.”
Dan regarded him incredulously. “Oh for Christ’s sake, Ray. Rick’s a businessman first and foremost. He’ll have plenty of other irons in the fire. Just keep a lid on that social conscience of yours for once and be glad that we’re seeing the back of him at last.”
Doyle’s riposte was interrupted by a sharp tap on the door -- Bodie’s knock, Doyle immediately thought -- and the land agent hurriedly entered the room, nodding quickly at Dan before turning his attention fully to Doyle. “Ray, I met one of your diggers as I was driving up here,” he said. “In a bit of a state, he was. He was on his way up to get you -- seems they’ve found something they think you both should see.”
“Found something?” Doyle replied. “What sort of something?”
“He didn’t say -- something important I should think, judging by the look on his face.”
Doyle looked at Dan, who raised his eyebrows expectantly and made a move towards the door. “Better get along there then, hadn’t we,” he said.
Bodie stood back to let the other men pass but caught Doyle’s arm as he did so. “OK if I tag along?” he asked. “I’d like to see what’s going on, if that’s all right?”
Doyle’s first reaction was to pass some clever comment about Bodie’s recent apparent lack of interest in the project, but he thought better of it and merely nodded instead, leaving the land agent to follow in their wake out to the Land Rover.
From the look of delight upon the faces of the diggers, and the look of sheer amazement upon Doyle’s and Barker’s faces, Bodie knew that he should be seeing something exceptional, something exciting, down in the bottom of the trench above which they were all standing. All he could see however, was a lot of mud and a handful of coloured stones -- surely there was nothing there to cause all the furore?
Doyle suddenly dropped into the trench and, pulling a trowel from the back pocket of his jeans, began scraping steadily at the gooey mess at the bottom. Muttering a curse he suddenly looked up at Bodie and pointed to something at the other man’s feet. “Bodie, throw me that sponge down, mate.”
Bodie, who had still been staring at the pocket from whence the trowel had emerged, looked blankly at him for a second before realising what Doyle wanted and acting accordingly. He watched as the archaeologist dabbed at the soil, revealing more coloured stones as the mud was wiped away.
“It is what we think it is, isn’t it, Dr. Doyle?”
Bodie recognised the speaker as the excited individual he had met on the road a short time earlier.
“Absolutely,” Doyle replied, looking up at Dan with a broad grin on his face. “No doubt about it!”
Dan gave out a low whistle and dropped down into the trench alongside his colleague, as the sounds of animated chatter broke out amongst the assembled audience.
“Sorry,” Bodie ventured hesitantly. “But what is it exactly?”
Doyle turned and looked up at him, and the face-splitting smile that he bestowed upon him almost made Bodie’s knees buckle. Christ, he thought. It’s been weeks since he smiled at me like that. “Almost certainly a mosaic floor,” Doyle replied. “And if the lack of disturbance on the rest of the site’s anything to go by it could well be complete!” He hauled himself up out of the trench to where Bodie was standing and smiled at him again.
“And that’s good, is it?” Bodie asked innocently.
“Good?” Doyle laughed loudly. “It’s fucking brilliant!”
Doyle was standing so close, and looking at him with such wild, bright eyes that for a moment Bodie actually thought that the other man was going to hug him in his excitement. Then Doyle turned away and began organising his troops, and Bodie found himself feeling slightly aggrieved that Doyle’s attention had been diverted elsewhere.
He watched as Doyle supervised the erection of a makeshift shelter over the trench, lending an extra pair of hands where required as they attempted to secure the shelter in the blustery conditions. It was the first time he’d observed Doyle properly in his role as the top man on the site, and he had to admit that there was something fascinating about watching him in action.
Realising that he was becoming surplus to requirements, Bodie began to walk back up to the Estate Office, thankful that the rain had finally eased off. He hadn’t gone more than a few yards when he heard heavy footsteps pounding behind him and he turned to see Doyle chasing after him.
“Bodie -- sorry. I didn’t thank you for letting us know about all this.”
Bodie shrugged. “I was only the messenger,” he replied.
Doyle’s excitement was still bubbling over. “You going up the office?” he asked. Bodie nodded. “I’ll walk up with you. Have to ring the old man and tell him what’s happened. It’s bloody marvellous, you know,” Doyle said, shaking his head in amazement. “An hour ago I was preparing to go cap in hand and beg for more funding. Now they’ll be chucking money at us. Unbelievable!”
There was something about an impassioned Ray Doyle that Bodie found irresistible, and he found that the other man’s enthusiasm was becoming contagious. “This mosaic then,” he said. “Unusual, is it?”
“Could be, with any luck. Depending on how much is down there. If it looks promising it could well mean us carrying on through the winter. We can get a semi-permanent shelter set up. Conditions won’t be ideal, of course, but we’ll manage. Looks like you’re stuck…” He suddenly stopped and considered his words. “Sorry,” he continued. “This probably isn’t what you wanted to hear, is it? Thought you’d be getting rid of us soon and getting your Estate back to normal for a few months, eh?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Well, you haven’t seemed all that… interested lately. Thought maybe you’d decided you didn’t want us here after all.”
Bodie looked preoccupied. Too bloody interested, that’s the problem, he thought. And not in your fucking dig either. And too bloody scared that you’d realise it too. “Just been busy, that’s all,” he offered weakly. “Haven’t changed my mind. I still think all this could be the making of the Estate.”
They fell into an awkward silence as they carried on up to the Estate Office.
“I went over to Fishbourne, you know,” Bodie said suddenly. “Had an interesting chat with the Estate Manager there.”
“Oh?” Doyle replied, somewhat surprised and suddenly feeling rather deflated. Having put Bodie in touch with his opposite number there, with the help of the site director of the excavation with whom Doyle was vaguely acquainted, he had assumed - hoped - that Bodie would ask him to accompany him if he paid the man a visit.
And why should he ask you? Doyle told himself. Doesn’t need you to hold his hand, does he? “Able to give you a few tips was he?” Doyle continued offhandedly.
“Yeah, he was very helpful.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence, Doyle cursing himself for allowing the fact that Bodie had visited Fishbourne without him to affect him like this, and Bodie wondering what the hell had suddenly happened to Doyle’s buoyant mood.
Late September 1976
Bodie checked his watch as he drank the last couple of mouthfuls of coffee in his mug. He was running late but not too late. And knowing his Lordship as well as he did he doubted whether the old boy would be on time anyway. Gathering up his papers he stuffed them into his briefcase, yawning loudly as he did so. He was annoyed at himself for almost oversleeping that morning, knowing full well that he should have had an early night and a decent night’s sleep before his forthcoming meeting with Lord Erskine and the Estate’s accountants. He was pinning all his hopes on this meeting; if he’d done his homework correctly his report should convince them of the Estate’s need to diversify if it was going to survive. He hoped that he’d done enough to emphasise the increasing importance of tourism to that survival, and in particular the importance of Ray Doyle’s dig.
Ray Doyle…
Bodie cursed. It was all Doyle’s bloody fault that he’d been up half the night working anyway. He’d been making great progress on his report until the archaeologist had turned up at the Estate Office and announced his intention to catch up on his paperwork. Bodie’s concentration had begun to waver from that point onwards. Even the firmly closed door between their two offices did not stop Bodie’s mind wandering time and time again to the man who was sitting working just a few feet away from him. In the end his increasingly wild thoughts and their resulting physical manifestation -- one which made sitting at his desk particularly uncomfortable -- became too much for him and he had grabbed his papers and beaten a judicious retreat back to the relative safety of his cottage.
Even there though his musings on the many charms of Raymond Doyle had managed to distract him from his work and it had only been through a great deal of determination and the help of a decidedly cool shower that his report had finally been completed in the early hours of the morning.
He felt his confidence flagging as he closed the cottage door behind him; he’d gone into everything in the minutest detail and was as sure as he could be that he’d got his figures right. But still, he was no accountant… Christ, if I’ve made a mess of this just because I can’t stop my balls tying themselves up in knots every time…
He looked up at the sky and blinked in the bright sunlight. It was a beautiful morning; he would leave the car and walk up to the Hall he decided. Maybe the fresh air would clear his head. God knows he’d need his wits about him if the accountants started pulling his sums to pieces or, which was more likely, his Lordship decided to dig his heels in. Slipping his car keys back into his pocket he set off towards the Hall.
So lost in his thoughts was he as he made his way along the road that he didn’t notice Tom Jarvis’ pick-up approaching until it had almost drawn level with him. As Tom pulled up alongside him Bodie opened the passenger door and stuck his head inside the vehicle. “Morning, Tom,” he greeted his assistant. “Everything OK?”
“Everything’s fine with me,” the other man replied. “Not so sure about your friend Dr. Doyle though.”
Bodie groaned inwardly. What was the archaeologist going to torment him with now? “Oh? What’s up with him then?” he asked.
“No idea, but I’ve just seen him charging into the Estate Office like he had the Hounds of Hell at his heels. Looked pretty upset if you ask me.”
Bodie grinned. “It’s not difficult to upset him, Tom, believe me. It’s probably nothing.”
“I don’t know… he looked a bit panicky to me.”
Bodie thought for a moment. “Look, do me a favour, Tom,” he said. “Go on up to the Hall and let his Lordship know that I’ve been delayed. I’d better go and see what’s going on. There might have been an accident or something.”
“Right,” Tom replied. “I’ll do that and then I’m going over to Home Farm, just in case you need me.”
Bodie nodded and slammed the door shut. As he stood and watched Tom drive away he cursed Doyle for the umpteenth time that morning. Being late for his meeting would really put him in the driving seat, he thought wryly. He should let Doyle sort out his own problems -- no reason at all why he should get involved. And yet if there had been an accident or something of that nature then he should be involved. It was his job to know everything that was going on on the Estate, and he’d always prided himself for having his finger on the pulse of the place.
Bollocks, he thought as he took a deep breath. Doyle’s upset and you want to know why. Nothing to do with the Estate, nothing to do with anything else but him. Christ, has he really got under your skin that much?
He didn’t bother answering his own question.
Bodie could hear the shouting as he approached the building. The outer door to the Estate Office was open, and as he entered he saw that the door to his office, and the one that led through to Doyle’s inner sanctum, were also gaping wide. The rooms seemed to be filled with the sound of Doyle’s frenzied ranting. “I want someone down here NOW! It doesn’t fucking matter whether I know what’s missing or not. We’re talking about the wanton destruction of an important historical site as well as theft. Do you understand?”
Bodie arrived in the doorway just as Doyle slammed the phone down. Closing the door quietly behind him, he watched as Doyle, unaware of his presence, sank down onto the edge of the desk and ran his hand shakily through his hair. He looked distraught. “Ray?” he said quietly. “What’s going on?”
For a few brief seconds, as he looked up in surprise at Bodie, Doyle looked utterly lost, his face ashen. Then his expression became belligerent, almost threatening. “They’ve destroyed it, Bodie,” he seethed. “Gone right through the middle of it.” He pushed himself up off the desk and crossed the room. “Fucking bastards…” Suddenly he was in Bodie’s face. “Never wanted us here, did you? Know anything about this, do you?”
Bodie reached out and gripped Doyle by the shoulders, keeping him at arm’s length. “For Christ’s sake, will you just tell me what’s happened?”
Doyle glared at him. “Dug it up. The whole fucking thing. Just to get at whatever was beneath it. Could’ve been worthless but they didn’t care.”
Bodie all but shook him. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about. Try to calm down and tell me what’s happened!” He watched as Doyle took several deep breaths and made a concentrated effort to gather his thoughts. “Take your time, sunshine, and just tell me,” he encouraged.
Doyle sagged noticeably. “The mosaic. All gone… they came in the night… must have had metal detectors. Found something underneath the mosaic and just dug right through it.”
“Treasure hunters?”
Doyle’s whole body tensed again and he looked back at the land agent murderously. “Don’t give ‘em romantic names, Bodie. Thieves, that’s all they are. Thieves and vandals.”
Bodie tried to keep his voice steady in an attempt to calm Doyle down. “What did they take?”
The harsh laugh that came from the other man unsettled Bodie. “That’s just the point -- we don’t know. We have no idea what was under there. Christ, we don’t even know if they have taken anything. But whether they have or not, the mosaic’s had it.”
Bodie was confused. “So what are you saying? They’ve stolen the mosaic?”
Doyle suddenly looked very tired. “No, no… It’s all still there, but the pieces are scattered all over the place. It was in the way, you see, so they just dug straight through it.”
“So you could put it back together again,” Bodie suggested hopefully.
“You don’t understand,” Doyle replied, shaking his head and looking utterly dejected. “When we found it it was in situ. Never been disturbed since the day it was laid. Now we might have all the pieces, but it will never be the same. It’ll always be a reconstruction, it’ll never be the real thing.”
Relaxing his grip Bodie instead began to gently rub the other man’s shoulders. “You don’t really think that I had anything to do with this, do you?” he asked, unable to hide completely the hurt he’d felt at Doyle’s accusation.
Doyle shook his head, the look of self-disgust upon his face only adding to the misery that Bodie could see there. “No, of course I don’t. Christ, I’m sorry Bodie. I’m not thinking straight. I’m sorry.” As he spoke Doyle’s head sagged forward and came to rest upon Bodie’s shoulder. That one small movement was all it took to pierce Bodie’s armour of self-control totally and he gathered Doyle towards him, wrapping his arms around him as he did so and feeling Doyle’s arms snake around his back in response.
“Ray, I’m so sorry,” he murmured, holding him tightly. “I wish there was something I could do.”
Doyle did not reply. Instead he closed his eyes and allowed himself to bask in the comfort that Bodie was offering. Pressed against Bodie’s solid frame with the land agent’s strong arms encircling him, Doyle could almost believe that his problems would all disappear as long as Bodie was here with him. So lost was he in that sensation that he failed to notice at first the soft press of the other man’s lips in his hair. Not until those lips touched his temple, then his cheek, then his jaw did he suddenly realise what was happening. And then it was the most natural thing in the world for him to turn his face just enough to seek out and find Bodie’s mouth with his own. Their kiss was easily the sweetest, most exciting kiss that Doyle had ever known. Almost tentative to begin with, it rapidly increased in passion until they finally needed to break it in order to breathe. Doyle moaned as Bodie turned his attention briefly to his neck before capturing his lips again. Then it was Bodie’s turn to moan as their hunger for each other intensified and his hands roamed downwards to clutch at Doyle’s arse, pulling him in even closer so that they could each feel the other’s erection straining against their own.
“Oh, God, Ray… want you so much,” Bodie breathed almost incoherently in Doyle’s ear and sending an exquisite tingle down Doyle’s spine.
“Bodie…”
From somewhere far off Doyle heard his own voice huskily repeating the other man’s name over and over, and as he did so he became gradually aware of a distant sense of unease. Bodie?
He struggled to surface from the maelstrom of sensations which were overpowering him, while at the same time longing to surrender entirely to Bodie’s touch. His fingers entwined in the land agent’s hair as he tried to break their embrace. “Bodie… what the fuck…” His shakily voiced question hung in the air as the sound of the outer door slamming reached their ears. Both men froze for what seemed like minutes, and yet could only have been a second or two, then Doyle felt Bodie flinch as they heard Tom Jarvis calling the land agent’s name.
Bodie leapt away from Doyle as if he’d been stung, hastily running his fingers through his hair and tucking his shirt back into his waistband where Doyle’s inquisitive hands had been just a few moments earlier.
Doyle reached out and grabbed his arm. “Maybe he’ll go away,” he whispered hopefully.
Bodie shook his head despondently. “No, not Tom,” he replied softly. “Just as likely to come charging in here. I’d better see what he wants.” He looked at Doyle regretfully and, taking a deep breath or two, reached the door just as Tom’s shadow became visible on the other side of the frosted glass panel. “Looking for me, Tom?” he asked as he stepped through into his own office, amazing Doyle at the steadiness of his voice.
“Message from his Lordship for you,” Doyle heard Bodie’s assistant reply. “If you want to see him and the accountants about your plan it’ll have to be this morning. He’s off on a golfing trip later today and won’t be back until next week.”
“OK, thanks. I’d better get up to the Hall straight away then.”
Bodie’s head appeared around the door. He looked at Doyle with undisguised longing and smiled a rueful smile at him. “I’ll see you later, Ray,” he said in a voice that, for the benefit of Tom’s listening ears, exuded normality. Then, for Doyle’s eyes only, he silently mouthed one word again.
“Later.”
Then he was gone, leaving Doyle sagged against the edge of the desk, swollen-mouthed, dishevelled, utterly confused and with an erection so ferocious that even the shock of near-discovery had failed to diminish it.
Thus began a day in which Ray Doyle’s emotions ranged from the fury and distress caused by the destruction of the prized mosaic; through yet more fury and frustration at the reluctance of the two police officers who eventually turned up to investigate the incident to treat it as anything more than an act of vandalism; and lastly -- but definitely by no means least -- his utter bewilderment at what had taken place between Bodie and himself that morning. He spent the day expecting Bodie to make an appearance at the excavation, but as the hours passed and there was no sign of the land agent Doyle became increasingly suspicious of Bodie’s motives. By the time he decided to finish for the day he had almost convinced himself that the whole thing was no more than some sort of sick joke. Had his attraction to the man been that obvious that Bodie had decided to teach him a lesson? No, he couldn’t believe that. For one thing, if Bodie was trying to rebuff any advances he might be considering it was a bloody strange way to go about it. And for another thing there was absolutely no doubt that Bodie had been as aroused as he had been himself. That was one thing he couldn’t fake.
Wandering slowly back to the tent he suddenly felt completely shattered. The initial shock of discovering the damage that had been done to the mosaic had now worn off, leaving more of a feeling of numbness and disbelief. Dan had spent a good part of the day on the phone speaking to various experts at the University, leaving him to deal with the physical tidying up of the site, and tomorrow one of the foremost specialists in the field of Roman villa decoration was arriving to assess exactly what could be salvaged from the whole sorry mess. At least he had done as much as he could today to sort out that particular problem. His other pressing problem still remained however. What in hell’s name was he going to do about Bodie?
As if on cue the sound of a car approaching drew his attention to the road some 200 yards away. From his slightly elevated position Doyle immediately recognised the land agent’s car, watched it draw nearer then pass the five-bar gate that led into the field and speed off in the opposite direction. He was too far away to positively recognise the figure at the wheel, and yet the knowledge that it was Bodie driving the vehicle was enough to make his insides do a somersault. Whatever Bodie’s intentions had been that morning it was now clear to Doyle that he wanted Bodie more than ever.
“Later,” Bodie had said. Having come to know Bodie’s routine over the past weeks Doyle was pretty certain that he would make an appearance at the pub sometime during the course of the evening. He made his mind up to be waiting for him.
Doyle felt strangely nervous as he sat in the pub with Dan later that night. His eyes flickered to the door every time it opened, but as yet the one person that he was hoping to see had not made an entrance. They sat for the most part in silence, each immersed in his own thoughts. Doyle’s thoughts however were not, as Dan assumed, the same as his. Whilst Dan pondered over the loss of their precious mosaic Doyle’s thoughts were on a different tack altogether.
They had been sitting in the pub for just under ninety minutes when Bodie finally appeared. As he strode into the bar his eyes immediately locked with Doyle’s and he gave him a slight smile before turning to order his drink from Jack. Doyle could feel his heart pounding in his chest and he swore inwardly at his lack of self-control; he hadn’t intended behaving like a lovesick teenager when he next saw Bodie, but that was exactly how he felt. He emptied his glass and moved to stand next to Bodie at the bar. When the land agent turned to look at him Doyle felt his throat constrict. Just one look at the other man’s face told him that this was no game that Bodie was playing. This was for real all right.
“How are you?” Bodie asked. A simple question, but one that was obviously intended to ask more than it appeared to.
“Confused,” Doyle replied quietly.
Bodie nodded and took a drink from his pint as Doyle somewhat croakily ordered refills for himself and Dan. As he made to return to their table Bodie touched him lightly on the arm. “Five minutes?” he said softly.
“OK.”
As Doyle sat down again and sipped at his beer Bodie kept his back resolutely turned towards him. Finishing his drink he bade farewell to Jack and, without a second glance at Doyle, left the pub.
“Your friend seems about as chatty as we are tonight,” Dan observed.
“Mmm,” Doyle murmured in agreement. He mentally counted off the minutes as he steadily emptied his glass, standing as the last drop disappeared. “Erm… just remembered something I wanted to ask Bodie about,” he said hurriedly. “I’ll see if I can catch him. See you later.”
Dan gaped in bewilderment as he suddenly found himself drinking alone.
Emerging from the pub Doyle spotted Bodie further along the High Street as he’d guessed he would. The land agent was standing outside the village hall, ostensibly studying the minutes of the last parish council meeting which were displayed on the notice board there. He looked up as Doyle approached.
“Interesting reading?” Doyle asked innocently.
Bodie shrugged. “No idea,” he answered with a smile. “Haven’t read a word of it. Other things on my mind.”
Doyle’s composure had returned with the realisation that Bodie was not playing him for some sort of mug. “What the hell’s going on?” he asked abruptly.
“We can’t talk here,” Bodie replied. “My place?”
Doyle fell into step beside the other man as he set off for his cottage. They both knew that there was a very good chance that talking would be kept to a minimum once they arrived there. “Thought you might have come down to the site today,” Doyle ventured, seeking to break the somewhat awkward silence.
Bodie stopped dead in his tracks. “Didn’t dare,” he replied huskily, his voice thick with longing. “Wasn’t entirely certain that I’d be able to keep my hands off you.”
Doyle felt his cock twitch in response to Bodie’s words. Suddenly Bodie grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him down an alleyway between two shops, pinning him up against a wall once they were out of sight of the High Street and taking his mouth fiercely. As they came up for air Bodie’s hand covered Doyle’s rapidly hardening cock and squeezed none too gently. “You and I have got some unfinished business to take care of,” he breathed in Doyle’s ear.
Doyle shuddered as he held on to him, suddenly unsure of whether his legs were capable of supporting him. “Keep doing what you’re doing and it won’t stay unfinished for much longer,” he croaked.
Without warning Bodie’s mood changed. The grip on Doyle’s cock was suddenly gone as Bodie’s hands reached up to cup his face, and he was kissed with more tenderness than he’d ever known in his life before. A spark lit up somewhere within Doyle. Did he dare to hope that this could mean more to Bodie than just a convenient sexual liaison? The possibility that it could made him realise just what he was hoping for himself.
“Come home with me.” Bodie murmured softly. “Want to do this properly. Slowly. Want it to be perfect.”
Doyle nodded silently, then found Bodie’s mouth and returned the kiss, fervently hoping that he could convey all that he was feeling at that moment. They smiled at each other as Bodie tugged at his hand, urging him to follow as he turned and led the way along the darkened alley to the back gate of his cottage.
Doyle lay contentedly in Bodie’s bed, drinking in the sight of the man sleeping soundly beside him. It wasn’t often that he got the chance just to look at him like this; to appreciate all the individual factors that, put together, went to make his friend -- now his lover -- such a remarkably good-looking man. And not only that -- a remarkably good lover too. Their lovemaking had been far better that he could ever have dreamed it would be. In his fantasies, sex between them had always been rough, demanding, quick; not because that was what he wanted but because he’d assumed that was how Bodie would be. Wanting to dominate, needing to be in the driving seat, and calling all the shots until the fantasy Doyle eventually turned the tables on the fantasy Bodie and shagged him senseless. The reality could not have been more different. Not that Bodie had been submissive. No, you certainly couldn’t say that. But he’d taken so much care to ensure that he was pleasuring his lover as much as himself that Doyle had been overjoyed to discover exactly what manner of man he’d got himself involved with.
But then again, what did he really know about Bodie? The man with a reputation as a super-stud who actually turned out to be gay? Who had given Doyle no indication whatsoever that he was attracted to him and yet was now so horny that he could hardly keep his hands off him? There were a few things that the two of them needed to sort out if this relationship was going to go any further. Assuming that Bodie did want it to go further.
Hastily pushing that thought to the back of his mind, Doyle lifted his head from the pillow and stole a quick glance at the clock. It was still early, at least another hour before he needed to leave. He lay on his back, listening to the soft sound of Bodie’s gentle snoring and staring up at the cracks that zig-zagged their way across the ceiling of the old cottage. It seemed impossible that he could have gone from the depths of black despair to the dizzying elation that he felt at the moment, all within the space of twenty-four hours. Talk about a roller-coaster…
Sensing the dark tendrils of rage and frustration that were starting to prod at his heart again he snuggled closer to the sleeping man at his side, remembering the wonderful glow of safety and well-being that had enveloped him when he’d stood in Bodie’s embrace that morning. And as if on cue a strong arm snaked around him and pulled him closer, and Doyle went willingly, wrapping himself around Bodie like a second skin and sighing blissfully when the other man reciprocated. For several minutes he lay quietly just watching his lover sleep, enjoying the sweetness of Bodie’s breath as it skittered across his own face. Then, to his fond amusement, he realised that Bodie’s lips were moving soundlessly, forming words that he was unable to pick up, and he smiled as he watched the slumbering features take on an expression of unadulterated pleasure. Wonder what he’s dreaming about? Something good by the look of it.
His question was answered within the next breath as Bodie whispered his name, not once but twice, and Doyle felt his heart sing with pure joy as he suddenly realised that this relationship was going to be like no other he had known.
It was time he was going. He made a quick trip to the bathroom before coming back to retrieve his clothes, dressing as quietly as he could so as not to wake his still-sleeping lover.
“Running out on me?” a sleepy voice enquired from the bed.
Doyle paused in the fastening of his shirt buttons and clambered onto the bed next to the other man. “Wasn’t going to go without waking you,” he smiled.
Without warning Bodie’s hand emerged from the covers and pulled him down for a kiss. “You don’t have to go at all. Stay with me?”
For a second Doyle wavered, then shook his head. “Can’t. If I don’t go back to the tent Dan’ll have half the county out searching for me. Very protective of me, he is.” The look of horror that suddenly appeared on Bodie’s face alarmed him. “Bodie? What is it?”
“Oh fuck, Ray. I never thought… you and Dan, I mean… he’s not… oh, fuck!”
Doyle tried unsuccessfully to grasp exactly what Bodie was talking about. Then, as the penny finally dropped, his face was split in two by an enormous grin and he laughed uproariously. “Oh no, mate, you can forget that!” he spluttered. “For your information Dan is very happily married to a lovely girl named Alison and they have a beautiful six-month-old baby daughter to whom, I’m very proud to say, I happen to be godfather.”
Bodie let out the breath he was holding, the relief on his face plain to see. It made Doyle’s heart flip to see it. “Look,” he continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “When I went through all that shit with Rick, Dan and Alison were brilliant. I got myself into a bit of a state over everything, and they were like my anchors in the storm. Since then they’ve taken it upon themselves to look out for me. Self-appointed guardian angels, if you like. Don’t know where I would’ve ended up without them, to be honest.”
He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on Bodie’s mouth. “I’ve got no interest whatsoever in getting inside Dan’s knickers, believe me,” he said as the grin returned. “And the only interest he’s got in mine is the fact that I disgust him by leaving my dirty ones lying around inside the tent.”
Bodie shuddered dramatically. “Lovely habits you’ve got,” he laughed, pulling Doyle down on top of him and returning the kiss.
When it was over Doyle rolled off him and they lay facing each other on the bed.
“There really is nobody then?” Bodie asked hesitantly.
“Nobody,” Doyle replied quietly. “At least, there wasn’t…” He looked at Bodie and sighed. “I really had better go.”
“Next time then. Promise you’ll stay next time?”
“Yeah. Next time.”
“Tomorrow?”
Doyle smiled and nodded.
Bodie somehow managed to stay away from the dig until almost eleven o’clock, despite the almost overwhelming urge to see Ray as soon as he’d woken that morning. Today was his rostered day off, and there was no need therefore for his usual working clothes. Instead he dressed casually, choosing to wear the same shirt and trousers that he’d worn that night when Ray had shown him the aerial photos - the night that he’d first become aware of the archaeologist’s interest in him.
He took the long way up to the site, walking along the road instead of over the fields, and was surprised to see a number of cars that he didn’t recognise parked on the roadside. Then, of course, he realised what must be going on -- something to do with the vandalism here yesterday, no doubt. Christ, was that only yesterday? It was something of a shock to realise how much his life had changed in such a short space of time.
As he wandered across the field he could see a huddle of people gathered around one of the trenches. It wasn’t difficult to pick out Ray’s curls amongst the heads that were looking down at what he assumed must be the ruined mosaic. He wouldn’t disturb him; he could walk back over later. Anyway, just to catch a glimpse of him was enough for the time being.
As he began to veer across to the far side of the field he heard his name being called from behind and he turned to see Dan Barker approaching. Now he came to think of it he’d hardly had a single conversation with the man since the first day he’d arrived here. He supposed that if Ray was about to become as big a part of his life as he hoped then he should really get to know his lover’s friend a little better. He waited while Dan caught him up and smiled a greeting.
“Morning, Mr. Bodie,” Dan said somewhat breathlessly. “Expect you’ve heard about all the trouble we had yesterday.”
Bodie nodded. “Ray told me. Any idea who could be behind it?”
“Not a clue. It’ll have been done to order, no doubt. Plenty of unscrupulous collectors out there with money burning holes in their pockets. They don’t care where their precious artefacts come from, just so long as they’ve got something nice to put in their cabinets.”
Bodie was surprised. “So what are you saying? That it’s not just a few of the local yobs taking a chance on finding something valuable?”
“Oh Christ, no. This is big business. Well-organised. Hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of important artefacts disappearing every year. Most of it going abroad, of course. The States, mainly.”
Bodie gave out a low whistle. “Never dreamt it was anything like that,” he replied. “So if it wasn’t some of the local lads who’d seen all the activity down here, how would anyone know what was going on?”
Dan looked at him knowingly. “Ah, there you have it. The information had to come from someone. Three possibilities -- one of the actual workers on the dig, somebody in the know at the University, or one of the local people who’ve been keeping an eye on what’s going on.”
The accusation that Doyle had thrown at him suddenly came back to Bodie. “He thought it was me,” he said quietly.
“Sorry?”
“Yesterday morning. Ray asked if I knew anything about what had happened.”
Dan looked at him aghast. “He said that?”
Bodie shrugged. “He was upset. He knows that I wasn’t involved.”
“I should think so too. One day that mouth of his is going to get him into a lot of trouble.”
Bodie tried to stifle a grin as he recalled exactly what Ray’s mouth had been doing to him less than twelve hours earlier. He glanced across at the group of people still talking earnestly beside the trench, and was suddenly captured by a pair of green eyes staring back at him.
He knew he was smiling like some sort of lunatic, but he couldn’t help it. He watched as Ray excused himself from his colleagues and began to walk towards him. Aware that Dan was still speaking, nevertheless he couldn’t drag his eyes away from the man. He just stood there, staring over Dan’s shoulder, looking like a complete prat no doubt, and not caring a thing about it.
It took a few seconds for Dan to realise that his words were falling on deaf ears. Following Bodie’s gaze he looked behind him, only to see Ray approaching with a similarly vacuous expression on his face. He looked back at Bodie, then at Ray again, and then his jaw dropped. It didn’t take a genius to work out that he was completely surplus to requirements here. “I… er… think I’ll just go and have a word with Steve over there,” he said to nobody in particular. At any rate, it was highly doubtful whether either man had heard him.
For the first time in his life Bodie suddenly felt tongue-tied. “How are you this morning?” he ventured hesitantly.
Doyle beamed at him, revelling in his apparent discomfort. “Great,” he replied confidently. “How about you?”
“Umm, yeah, I’m great too.”
Doyle took pity on him. “Fancy a walk?” he asked, nodding towards the small copse situated beyond the next field.
Bodie’s equilibrium returned as they made their way towards the gate. “Got all the top brass down from Oxford then, have you?”
“Yeah, for what it’s worth,” Doyle sighed. “One of the guys is our expert on mosaics. He’s the important one. The rest are just running around like headless chickens.”
“You were doing a pretty good impression of one yourself yesterday morning,” Bodie observed. “Not that I blame you. Pretty shook up, weren’t you.”
Doyle nodded ruefully. “Still am,” he replied. “It’s such a damn waste. A beautiful work of art lies undisturbed for two thousand years. Then it’s discovered, and against all the odds it’s still perfect. Just as good as the day it was created. And what happens? Some bloody greedy bastard with an overflowing wallet decides that he wants whatever’s lying underneath it, and that’s it. Fuck the history, fuck the advancement of knowledge, fuck the sheer beauty of the thing.”
He stopped and shook his head sadly. “It just makes me so sick, and so bloody angry. And the worst part of it is that it could happen again. I’ve just been pleading ‘til I’m blue in the face for them to let me bring in some sort of security but they won’t have it. “Budget restrictions” they say. Well, I notice that their fucking budget restrictions don’t stop them from checking in at the only five-star hotel in the bloody area.”
He looked so utterly dejected that Bodie felt something inside himself give way, to be swiftly replaced by an emotion that as yet he wouldn’t dare give a name to, so new was it to him. And yet deep down he knew there was no doubt as to what it really was.
He took a deep breath and slung an arm across the slumped shoulders, urging the archaeologist forward. “Your friend Dan was just telling me that this sort of thing’s highly organised and that there’s a lot of money involved. D’you reckon they would have used some of the local yobs to do the dirty work? If they did then I might be able to find out something for you.”
Doyle looked at him askance, a flicker of humour returning to his eyes. “What are you, the bleeding Godfather or something?”
Bodie laughed. “Don’t be a berk. Small place like this though, it’s the easiest thing in the world to find out everyone else’s business.” As soon as he’d uttered the words he fell silent and began worrying at his lower lip.
Doyle picked up on the change of mood immediately. “Bodie? What is it?” He was taken aback by the anguish in the other man’s eyes as he looked back at him.
“Same goes for us, doesn’t it,” Bodie replied. “Won’t be long before the whole village knows about us.”
They had reached the edge of the copse. Doyle put an arm around Bodie’s waist and guided him into the shelter of the trees, seating them both down upon a recently felled tree trunk. “Does it matter that much?” he asked quietly, taking his lover’s hand in his own.
Bodie took a deep breath. “We’re from different worlds, you and I,” he replied. “How old were you when you told people you were gay?”
Doyle shrugged. “Twenty. Twenty-one. I was at University.”
“And I bet your parents were liberal thinkers who took it completely in their stride.”
“More or less, yeah. Bodie, I don’t see what…”
Bodie raised his hands. “There! Different worlds, y’see. Do you know that before he got called up during the war my Dad had never been any further than Arundel? My Mum’s been to London a total of three times in the whole of her life. They lead a simple life, Ray. Everybody here does. Can you imagine what it would be like for them if their son was suddenly discovered to be queer? People sniggering behind their backs, pointing fingers at them? I couldn’t do it to them.”
“So what are you saying? That you’ve never been with another bloke before? Don’t try telling me that, Bodie, cos after your performance last night I just won’t believe you.”
Bodie could feel his patience evaporating rapidly. “That’s not what I’m saying for Christ’s sake! Of course I’ve been with blokes before, I’m not a fucking monk! I just don’t… flaunt it, that’s all!”
Doyle was gobsmacked. “And I do, I suppose?”
Bodie held his head in his hands. “No, that’s not what I meant at all. For God’s sake, I don’t want to argue, Ray. I’m just trying to explain how it is.”
Doyle took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He raised his hand to Bodie’s head and threaded his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to argue either,” he said softly. “I’ve got off easy compared to you, haven’t I? Growing up in a tiny community like this, then the Army, then coming back to a job like yours where any hint of scandal would have you out on your arse. Don’t know how you’ve managed, to be honest.”
He sat and waited for some sort of reaction, and felt a warm glow inside when Bodie looked up and smiled at him. “I’m not trying to judge you or anything,” he continued. “We’ll play it your way, OK?” He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on Bodie’s forehead, then glanced at him mischievously. “Suppose that means a snog’s out of the question, then?” His reward was a sharp dig in the ribs that sent him off balance and landed him on his backside on the ground.
By the time he’d dusted himself off and settled back down again beside his attacker another thought had occurred to him. “Suppose that accounts for all the women then,” he said.
“What women?”
“Oh, don’t give me that. According to old Jack in the pub you, mate, have shagged half the female population of Sussex. So what was that all about then? Smokescreen?”
Bodie nodded. “Seemed the easiest way. Get a reputation for being a bit of a ladies’ man and people are less likely to ask questions.”
“And you had sex with them?”
“Some of them, yes. Not all of them. Most of them I dumped before the question of sex even came up.”
He smiled ruefully. “There are a lot of young ladies around here who think I’m the perfect gentleman.”
Doyle frowned. “But you did enjoy it?” he persisted. “You like having sex with women as well as men.”
“Why is it important?”
“I just need to know, that’s all.”
Bodie sighed. “OK then, yes, I’ve enjoyed having sex with women… if there was no alternative available. Even then I’d usually have to imagine that it was a different kind of body under me, and sometimes when my imagination failed me I couldn’t manage it at all. Happy now? Or is there anything else you’d like to know?”
Doyle edged closer and put his arms around Bodie’s waist. “Sorry, I’ve no right to ask you things like that. I’m sorry.” He glanced up at his lover and a flicker of mischief appeared in his eyes. “Managed it all right last night though, didn’t you?” he purred in his ear.
Bodie squirmed delightedly. “I’d have had a job not to, the things you were doing to me. Get a hard on just looking at you.” Bodie’s expression suddenly changed and he held Doyle off at arms’ length. “What were you doing discussing my so-called sex life with Jack anyway?” he asked indignantly.
Doyle had the good grace to look embarrassed. “Just making idle conversation, that’s all,” he replied unconvincingly.
“Bollocks, you were spying on me.”
Doyle gave in to the inevitable. “Oh all right then, I was tapping him up about you. Whether you were married, had a girlfriend, whatever.”
“The point being…”
“The point being that I fancied you like fucking crazy and I wanted to know if I was in with a chance, OK?” Doyle hissed.
Bodie laughed out loud. “You know, Raymond, I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me!” Doyle responded by poking him hard in the chest.
“You could have given me a bloody clue, y’know. Letting me tie myself up in knots, thinking you’d never fancy me in a million years.” He frowned at Bodie, but his eyes were laughing, teasing. “Didn’t even think I was your type.”
“And what made you think you weren’t my type?” smiled Bodie, joining in.
Doyle let out a snort of amazement. “Well, I’m a bloke for a start!”
“Hmm, funny that. One of the first things I noticed about you as it happens.” Bodie closed the few inches between them and nuzzled into Doyle’s neck. “Made you exactly my type….” he mumbled as he licked leisurely along the length of Doyle’s throat.
Doyle tried and failed to stifle a groan of pleasure. His hands cupped Bodie’s head, pulling him even closer before it gradually dawned on him exactly what they were doing and where they were doing it. “Bodie,” he gasped, trying to pull away. “Stop, mate. Please.” Moving with what seemed to him to be a superhuman effort he gradually extricated himself from Bodie’s clutches.
The other man’s eyes were dark with lust, his breathing ragged.
Doyle realised with a start just how aroused his lover was. Christ, he thought. He’s almost there. He took Bodie’s face in his hands and smiled as he tried to calm things down. “Look, love. There’s nothing I’d like more than for us to shag each other stupid right here, right now.” He glanced down at the soft turf surrounding the tree trunk where they sat. It looked particularly inviting. “In fact,” he continued, a mischievous expression on his face, “I’ve always fancied doing it outdoors… in the countryside, like this. But we can’t, can we? If you want to keep this whole thing quiet then we’ve got to be careful. And I mean all the time.”
Bodie looked back at him alarmed. “Oh shit, Ray. I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to cope. Wasn’t kidding when I said that I can’t keep my hands off you, y’know.”
It was a strange sensation for Doyle. He wasn’t normally the sensible one in a relationship, the discreet one. He was the one who usually didn’t give a damn who was watching, who did whatever he felt like doing and to hell with the consequences. But he could tell that all this was new for Bodie. He suddenly wondered just where Bodie’s experience with men had come from. He had a pretty good idea of course. The casual pickup in a pub or club; the one-night stand whom he would never see again; grimy back alleys and seedy hotel rooms. Not that Doyle was a stranger to such situations himself, but along the way he’d also encountered men whom he’d shared real affection and friendship with. He somehow doubted whether Bodie had ever been as fortunate. The question was, would Bodie be prepared to let him be the one to show him just how good it could be?
Doyle sighed and rested his hands on Bodie’s shoulders. The other man looked back at him pleadingly, fixing Doyle with a deep blue gaze that made his skin tingle.
Seeking to diffuse the air of sexual awareness that almost seemed to crackle around them Doyle gave a wry smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll manage,” he said quietly, cupping Bodie’s cheek and planting a soft kiss lightly on his lips. “No more snogging in public though, OK?”
Bodie nodded and smiled as Doyle stood, pulling him up from their makeshift seat as he did so. “Look, I’d better get back,” Doyle murmured apologetically. “See you later though?”
He waited while Bodie took a deep breath, seemingly needing a few seconds to gather his thoughts. “Come along to my place when you’ve finished work,” the land agent eventually replied. “I’ll do us something to eat. Got all day to get it organised, even I should be able to manage something.”
Doyle shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t,” he grimaced. “Got to go out for a meal with all the top brass. Bloody boring it’ll be too, but there’s no way I can…” He suddenly stopped, a wide grin on his face. “Tell you what, why don’t you come with me?”
“What?”
“Come with me. Slap-up meal in a five-star hotel courtesy of the University. You’ll enjoy it.”
“Thought you said it’d be bloody boring.”
Doyle shrugged. “Won’t be if you’re there too, will it?”
Bodie considered Doyle’s invitation. “Don’t you think it’ll look a bit odd, me going along as your guest?”
“Course not. You’ve got a vested interest in the dig, haven’t you? Perfectly natural for me to invite you.” Doyle protested. Now that he’d had the brilliant idea of dragging Bodie along Doyle had no intention of letting him off the hook.
Bodie’s initial reluctance was no match for the enthusiasm of his lover. “OK, then,” he eventually conceded with a smile. “Seeing as you ask so nicely.”
Doyle stepped closer to him and began to play with the buttons of his shirt. “Can I ask you something else then?” he said, his voice taking on a sultry tone that turned Bodie’s knees to jelly.
“Anything,” Bodie replied breathlessly, wondering what on earth Doyle was about to ask.
“Don’t suppose you’ve got a shirt I can borrow, have you?”
Doyle made his way back across the field toward the dig, chuckling quietly to himself despite the tingling in his backside where Bodie’s heavy hand had made contact. The anticipation of his forthcoming evening with the land agent plus, he had no doubt, what would follow later was almost enough to banish the anger and frustration that he felt at the desecration of the excavation. He suddenly turned and looked behind him, just in time to see Bodie’s far-off figure do the same. They each raised an arm in acknowledgment before Bodie climbed the stile and disappeared around the bend that led back to the village. Doyle felt almost light-headed as he resumed his footsteps, a broad grin threatening to crack his face in two. Nearing the dig he gave Dan the full benefit of his beatific smile as his colleague came across to meet him.
Dan however was not feeling quite so pleasantly disposed toward his fellow archaeologist. “Nice of you to bugger off and leave me to deal with this lot on my own,” he said, almost snarling at Doyle.
“Sorry,” Doyle frowned, taken aback. It was obvious that Dan was very angry indeed. “Just needed to have a word with Bodie,” he added feebly.
Dan fingers dug into his upper arm as he pushed him back across the field, out of earshot of the assembled dignitaries.
“Are you fucking mad?” Dan demanded furiously.
Doyle was completely baffled. “What are you talking about?”
“You and him. Bodie. You’re bloody at it, aren’t you?” Dan hissed.
“Don’t be stupid…”
“Raymond, it’s written all your face. His too, come to that. Don’t you ever learn?”
Doyle looked back at him, speechless for once in his life. He knew it was pointless lying to Dan. So much for his promise to Bodie to keep their relationship hidden. “OK, Dan,” he sighed. “You’re right, we are. But you’ve got to keep this to yourself, mate. It’d finish Bodie if it got out.”
Dan shook his head in disbelief. “What’s wrong with you? Bodie of all people! Didn’t you go through enough with Rick? And if I’m not mistaken Bodie’ll be no better than he was.”
The underlying concern in Dan’s voice suddenly registered with Doyle. He placed his hand lightly on his friend’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “No, Dan, you’re wrong,” he said somewhat shakily. “Bodie’s different. He’s… well, he’s special.”
It was Dan’s turn to suddenly lose his voice. He studied Doyle’s face carefully, finding an expression there that he’d never seen before. “Jesus,” he said in amazement, all trace of anger disappearing. “You’re really smitten, aren’t you?”
Doyle nodded. “Yeah, I think I am,” he smiled.
Shortly after six o’clock that evening Doyle rapped smartly on the door of Bodie’s cottage. Freshly showered, shaved and wearing a clean pair of jeans and a fairly clean t-shirt he was feeling pretty good with himself. His sense of wellbeing increased tenfold when the door opened and his eyes alighted on the man who’d been occupying his thoughts all day.
Doyle let out a whistle of appreciation. The black trousers that Bodie was wearing left nothing to the imagination and his black silk shirt emphasised his physique perfectly.
Stepping inside the cottage Doyle closed the door behind him and moved forward into Bodie’s open arms. Their kiss was deep and passionate, and only ended when the need to breathe got the better of them. “Christ, I’ve been dreaming about doing that all day,” Doyle breathed huskily. “You look bloody gorgeous, by the way.”
He suddenly found himself being held at arm’s length as a disapproving eye was cast over him. “Pity we’re not going then, eh?” Bodie replied haughtily. “Shame, I was looking forward to it.”
Doyle’s indignant reply died in his throat as he caught sight of the twinkle in Bodie’s eye. “Cheeky sod. These jeans cost me a fortune I’ll have you know.”
“Still, it is the Grosvenor, Ray. They’ve got rules about that sort of thing.”
Doyle shrugged and began to peel off his t-shirt. “It’ll be OK. You’ll just have to tell them that I’m an eccentric millionaire. Shirt?”
Bodie picked up a pale green shirt from the back of a chair and handed it to him. “This should fit you OK. It’s always been a bit tight on me.”
As Doyle took the shirt from him Bodie’s hands automatically came to rest on the other man’s bare chest. Absently running his fingers through the dark covering of down he nuzzled Doyle’s neck. “Don’t suppose we’ve got time to. . . y’know,” he murmured, the resonance of his voice making Doyle tingle all over.
With a superhuman effort Doyle batted his hands away. “Oh God, don’t tempt me,” he replied, the anguish in his voice plain. “We daren’t be late. I need to keep those old boys on my side. Got something of a proposition to put to them tonight and I don’t want to upset anybody.”
“Sod ‘em. Try putting a proposition to me instead,” Bodie leered, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“I’d love to…but later,” Doyle laughed, neatly side-stepping Bodie’s wandering hands and pulling the shirt on. He looked down at it approvingly. “Nice. Expensive,” he said, feeling the material.
“Looks a million times better on you than it ever did on me. You might as well keep it,” Bodie replied, watching as Doyle tucked the shirt into his jeans.
Doyle’s reply was lost as Bodie suddenly captured his mouth with his own.
“Bloody hell,” said Bodie when they finally broke free. “Trust you to turn me on just as much when you put clothes on as you do when you take ‘em off.” He stood back and took a deep breath. “If we don’t go within the next two minutes something tells me we’re never going to go at all.”
Doyle nodded reluctantly in agreement, despite the fact that at that moment nothing appealed more to him than the thought of spending the rest of the night in Bodie’s bed while they made slow and tender love to each other.
“Who’s driving?” Doyle asked as he shrugged into the leather jacket that he’d been carrying.
“I am,” Bodie replied, snatching up his car keys. “I’m not drinking tonight. I intend to be fully sober when we get back. Anyway, if you think I’m turning up at a place like the Grosvenor in that wreck of a Land Rover of yours you’re sadly mistaken.”
“Bloody snob, you are,” Doyle snorted derisively as he made for the front door. “I can see I’m gonna have to take you in hand, my boy.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Whichever way you want to take it, sunshine. It’s all the same to me.”
Avoiding the menacing form of his lover as he advanced towards him, Doyle chuckled and escaped through the door into the comparative safety of the front garden.
Doyle had to admit that it had been an excellent meal, despite the fact that the Grosvenor was not the sort of place that he’d usually choose to eat in. Chintzy surroundings and waiters who looked down their noses at him -- Bodie had been right about the jeans, damn him -- were not conducive to a pleasant atmosphere in his opinion. Still, there were compensations; the main one being the press of Bodie’s thigh against his as they sat side by side. And he was pretty certain that he’d managed to convince at least a couple of the visiting professors that his plans for the villa site were the best way forward for them. Having gained a brief respite from the boring observations of his neighbour while that gentleman disappeared in order to relieve himself, the evening was now beginning to drag for him. Bodie, on the other hand appeared to be enjoying himself immensely; Doyle found himself tuning in to the land agent’s conversation with another of his colleagues and was pleasantly surprised at his friend’s ability to discuss the excavation with someone who, probably completely unknown to Bodie, was actually one of the foremost experts on Roman villa sites in the country.
Yet again his lover had surprised him; whereas Doyle was impatient and uncomfortable in places like this with all their attendant fripperies, Bodie was in his element. And he was certainly holding his own with old Professor Day; his opinions and arguments regarding various aspects of the excavation would hold up in any gathering of Oxford luminaries. Was there anything that this man couldn’t do, for God’s sake? Telling himself he was stupid for suddenly experiencing an almost overwhelming sense of pride, he nevertheless rested his hand on Bodie’s thigh and squeezed gently, only to find himself transfixed by a brilliant smile that sent shivers right through him.
It was only the movement of the assembled company as they left their tables and adjourned into the bar that broke the spell. About to follow Bodie from the dining area, Doyle was annoyed to find his arm being gripped unceremoniously and he turned to see his erstwhile dining companion and another of the visiting dignitaries smiling at him expectantly.
“Raymond, I’ve been outlining some of your plans to John here,” the older man said. “He’d like to hear more of what you have in mind for the site.”
Doyle glanced helplessly at Bodie, scowling when his lover merely looked back at him with a smug grin on his face before wandering across to the bar and ordering himself a drink. Doyle sighed. Normally this was the sort of thing he relished; the opportunity for forthright discussion of something as important to him as the dig, the chance to expound his own theories and ideas. Tonight though he just couldn’t be bothered. Tonight he wanted Bodie all to himself and anything else was just an irrelevance. Resigning himself to the inevitable he began to explain his proposals yet again, glancing back towards the bar and Bodie every so often just to reassure himself that the other man was still there.
On the fourth occasion that he looked across the room however he was gripped by a sense of sheer panic. Bodie was no longer alone; there, with his back to Doyle, and speaking quietly but animatedly to the land agent was Dan. Doyle had no illusions as to what their topic of conversation was likely to be. Shit! Should have told him before we came here. Promised him I’d keep it quiet and now here’s Dan shooting his mouth off. Shit. That’s it then -- over before it even started. Only fucking slept together once as well.
“…and in five years’ time, Raymond. How do you see things progressing?”
Doyle tried to drag his attention back to the man addressing him. “Sorry?”
“Five years, ten years even, what do you…”
The man’s voice droned on, incoherently as far as Doyle was concerned. He watched aghast as Dan and Bodie suddenly started to make their way toward the exit, the grim set of Bodie’s expression speaking volumes. The fact that he failed to so much as glance at Doyle as he passed caused the archaeologist’s heart to sink.
“What’s this all about? Something about Ray, you said.” Bodie eyed the other man suspiciously.
“About you and Ray is actually what I said,” Dan replied. Bodie’s eyes seemed to darken immediately at the words, and for one awful moment Dan thought that the land agent was actually going to hit him. For all that he was a normally placid soul however, Dan Barker was not one to flinch when he had an opinion that he thought needed to be expressed. “I know what’s going on,” he continued, “And before you say anything no, Ray didn’t tell me. He didn’t need to, the way the pair of you are walking around like love’s young dream… I’d have had to have been blind not to notice. But I’ll tell you one thing, Bodie. Ray’s the best friend I’ve ever had and I’m not going to stand by and see him crushed into the ground again. Christ, when I think what that vindictive little shit Deakin put him through… well, I’m not going to let it happen to him again, that’s all.”
He braced himself for an onslaught that didn’t materialise. Instead Bodie turned and took a few steps away from him. It was a full minute before Bodie broke the silence. “What makes you think I’d hurt him?” he asked quietly.
The blatant sincerity in Bodie’s question took Dan aback and he fumbled for an answer. “Because I… well, I just know the type he goes for that’s all,” he stammered, beginning to feel that somehow his stance was beginning to falter.
Bodie gave a sardonic chuckle. “Oh, I see. And I’m ‘that type’ am I?”
“I think you could be.”
The land agent suddenly turned and stepped up to Dan, who involuntarily took a small step backwards away from the glowering face that was now just inches from his own. Feeling decidedly nervous of the imposing figure standing menacingly in front of him, his sense of pride nevertheless forbade him to retreat any further. And then, in the blink of an eye, Bodie’s whole demeanour changed, a development that did nothing to diminish Dan’s sense of foreboding.
When he spoke however the dark-haired man’s voice was unsteady. “Tell me this then. If Ray is such a good friend of yours then don’t you hope that one day he’ll meet someone who truly cares for him?”
“Well, yes… of course, but…” Dan’s anger and concern had now disappeared completely. Suddenly feeling an idiot for the way he’d spoken to Bodie he cleared his throat self-consciously. “Look, maybe I was out of order. Said some things I probably shouldn’t have.”
It was a shock to see the normally self-possessed Bodie looking equally ill at ease. “Yeah, well… Ray’s lucky to have a friend who cares about him so much.”
“I’m sorry, Bodie. I’ll try to keep my big mouth shut in future, OK?” Dan extended a hand which was warmly taken up in the other man’s grasp. “It’s just… well, if you’d seen the way Ray was when he split up with Rick you’d understand. He was a spiteful bastard, no other way to describe him. Put Ray through hell, he did.”
Bodie nodded. “He’s told me a bit about it. Not much though.”
“At least he’s well and truly out of the picture now. Mr. Rick Deakin is now consigned to the ashbin of history.”
“He’s not flying for you anymore?”
“Nope. We didn’t renew his contract. I made bloody sure of that. Ray wasn’t very happy about it, mind you.”
“He wasn’t?” Bodie frowned.
Dan immediately saw how his words had been misconstrued. “Oh Christ, nothing like that. Ray doesn’t give a damn about him in that way. No, it’s just the Doyle sense of social injustice. Hates the thought of anyone being thrown out of work, never mind the fact that Rick’s probably better off than the lot of us put together.”
“Poor little rich boy, is he?” Bodie smirked.
Dan shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you really. Never really knew where he got all his money from. Something shady I wouldn’t mind betting.”
Both men looked up as a figure emerged from the brightly lit hotel doorway and watched as Doyle approached cautiously.
Wary green eyes flickered back and forth between them. “What’s going on?” he asked, looking for all the world as if he was about to prepare for ten rounds with Muhammad Ali.
The two smiles that greeted him could not have been more unexpected.
“Nothing,” Bodie replied, his face the picture of innocence. “Dan and I were just discussing something of mutual interest.”
The snort that emerged from Dan did nothing to waylay Doyle’s suspicions. “I’m wasting good drinking time,” he declared, slapping Doyle on the back as he passed. “See you later.”
Doyle watched his departing figure before turning his attention back to Bodie. “I’m sorry. Should have told you that Dan knew about us. I didn’t tell him, y’know, he… ”
“Shut up, Ray,” Bodie interrupted, closing the distance between them. “I know you didn’t bloody tell him.”
“Our own fault you know, going around looking at each other with our tongues hanging out. Just as much to blame as each other.”
“I know,” Bodie insisted.
The air of calm acceptance that his lover was exuding was not what Doyle had expected. “Thought you’d be furious,” he observed quietly.
“Was for a minute,” Bodie confessed. “Then it just didn’t seem to matter anymore. Felt relieved in an odd sort of way.”
“We can trust Dan, y’know. He’ll keep it to himself, don’t worry.” Doyle suddenly grinned. “He gave me a bit of a hard time this afternoon. Like an old Victorian father he was.”
Bodie chuckled. “He’s just given me more of the same,” he replied. “Thought at one point he was going to ask me how much I earned and what my prospects were.” He reached out and gently took Doyle’s hand, softly stroking his palm with his thumb. “He cares a lot about you. Wish somebody cared as much about me.”
Doyle entwined his fingers with Bodie’s and held on tightly. “Somebody does,” he replied, his voice little more than a whisper. They broke contact abruptly as the sound of voices emerged from the hotel. “Fancy getting out of here?” Doyle asked.
“Won’t you be missed?”
“Nah, I’ve had enough of it anyway. Rather be somewhere quieter, just the two of us. What do you say?”
“I’d say that sounded perfect.”
As he steered the car smoothly through the darkened country lanes Bodie glanced across at his passenger and smiled. Drowsy from the after-effects of the meal and the wine, Doyle was the picture of boneless relaxation as he sprawled in his seat and grinned dopily back at him.
“Comfy?” Bodie asked, with just the merest hint of sarcasm
“Mmm. This is luxury compared to that bloody Land Rover of mine,” Doyle purred, squirming contentedly in his seat to emphasise the point.
Bodie suddenly found himself gripping the steering wheel tighter than was absolutely necessary as his lover’s sinuous movements sent a jolt directly to his groin. Christ, does he have the slightest idea of how much of a sexy bastard he is? He shot another glance Doyle’s way. The other man’s eyes were closing as sleep began to overtake him. No, I really don’t think he does…
Dragging his attention back to the road Bodie tapped Doyle’s thigh smartly with the back of his hand. “Oi, don’t go to sleep now. We’re almost there.”
“Think I’ll just stay here,” came the murmured reply.
“Suit yourself. I’ll send you out a bacon sarnie in the morning, all right?”
As the car turned into the village Doyle forced himself upright and rubbed his face wearily.
“D’you want to take a look up at the site? See if everything’s OK?” Bodie asked as they approached his cottage.
“What’s the point?” Doyle scowled in reply. “Not much the two of us could do even if there was anything going on there, is there. Anyway, they’d be bloody idiots to come back, wouldn’t they? We could have half the local constabulary camped up there for all they know.”
“Yeah, well they might be bloody idiots but they’re probably also greedy bloody idiots. And it wouldn’t take them long to find out that you haven’t got anyone up there at all.” Bodie thought for a moment. “Look,” he continued. “Maybe I could organise something, get the site checked a couple of times each night or… ”
Doyle shook his head. “No, mate, I appreciate what you’re saying but it’s not your problem, is it?”
“If it’s your problem, Ray, then it’s my problem too,” the land agent replied quietly, giving the other man’s thigh a squeeze as he spoke.
For once words failed Doyle, and he briefly covered Bodie’s hand with his own before sighing loudly and running his free hand through his hair. “Had to bite my tongue tonight, felt like telling some of them exactly what I thought of their bloody budget restrictions.”
“Bloody hell, that must have been a first,” Bodie replied fondly, relieved to see that his remark had brought an answering grin from the other man.
“Told you I had a proposition to put to them tonight, didn’t I?” Doyle replied secretively. “Well, I think it went down pretty well as it happens. Didn’t want to spoil anything by letting my mouth run away with me.”
“And you’re still not gonna tell me what this proposition is?”
“Nope. Don’t want to count my chickens. I’ll tell you when I know something for definite.”
Bodie leered at him suggestively. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re extremely sexy when you’re being mysterious?”
“Constantly,” Doyle replied, his mood now relaxed. “Are we gonna sit here all night, by the way?”
Bodie looked at him in silence. In the glow of the street-lights Doyle looked exhausted, dishevelled and, he decided, completely shaggable. He reached across and ruffled Doyle’s hair playfully. “See you in the morning then,” he smiled as he opened the car door.
“What?”
“Thought you were spending the night in the car.”
“Nah, gone off the idea now,” Doyle grimaced. “Anyway, I’ve had a tough day. I need cheering up, don’t I.”
“Oh, and I suppose you want me to be the one to do it.”
“Yes, please.”
“You promised to stay tonight. Remember?” Bodie asked drowsily, his face just a few inches from Doyle’s as they shared the same pillow.
“’Course I remember. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” Snuggling closer Doyle laid his head on his lover’s chest, tickling his bedmate’s nose with his curls as his head moved up and down in time with the rise and fall of Bodie’s breathing.
Tightening his arms around the other man Bodie gradually became aware that the body in his embrace was trembling ever so slightly, and that the sound of Doyle’s breathing was becoming ragged. “Ray? You OK?” Concerned, he started to pull away only to find himself pulled back by a calloused hand which then stroked gently along the line of his jaw.
“I’m fine,” Doyle replied huskily, his voice full of emotion. “I was just thinking… this is… Oh Christ, Bodie. I don’t know what you’ve done to me. Never felt like this in my life before, I…”
Further words failed him as he was pulled even closer to the solid figure upon which he rested so comfortably. Stroked by capable hands which threatened to arouse him all over again, he almost missed the murmured response to his declaration.
“That’s where I’ve got the better of you then, Raymond, ‘cause I know exactly what you’ve done to me. Made me fall in love with you, haven’t you.” There was a sudden burst of movement and Bodie found himself looking up into a pair of shining green eyes that were regarding him as though they’d never seen him before.
“I think you’d better say that again. Just so I’m sure I heard you right the first time.” The hesitancy in Doyle’s voice belied the exhilaration that showed only too plainly in his face.
“I said I love you,” Bodie replied matter-of-factly, sounding for all the world as if he said the words every day. Cupping his hand around the back of Doyle’s head he brought their mouths together, running his tongue along the outline of those sensuous lips before plunging deep inside. Eventually forced to relinquish their hold upon each other in order to breathe, Bodie smiled.
“Your turn now. You’re supposed to say ‘I love you too, Bodie,’” he teased. He knew the words were unnecessary. That last kiss had shown him that his love was returned in equal measure.
But Doyle said it anyway; “I love you too, Bodie.”
Early November 1976
Bodie leaned against the frame of the door leading into Doyle’s tiny office, every inch of which seemed to be occupied by packing cases and piles of straw. He watched silently as his lover carefully packed away the numerous artefacts that the dig had unearthed, pleased that he’d arrived before the archaeologist had started to clear the bottom levels of the metal shelving rack that stood against one wall. The sight of that delicious rump clad in tight worn denim being waved provocatively in the air was definitely one of the finer things in life, he decided. This morning, however, even that delectable vision wasn’t enough to raise his sombre spirits, despite his body’s responses to the view. Needing to change his position in order to accommodate a rapidly thickening part of his anatomy, his movement caused Doyle to look up at him questioningly.
“What are you standing there for?” he asked suspiciously.
Bodie shrugged. “Just looking,” he replied nonchalantly.
“Why?”
“’Cause I like looking. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”
“Well, if you’ve nothing better to do you can get in here and give me a hand with these.”
The land agent held up his hands in refusal. “Oh no. I’m not taking the blame if any of it gets damaged. Leave me out of it.” Picking his way through the accumulation of debris strewn across the floor, Bodie crossed to the desk and perched on the edge. “It’ll be strange when all your stuff’s cleared out of here,” he said glumly. When Doyle failed to answer he reached out and extracted a handful of straw which had embedded itself in the other man’s curls.
“Here,” he said, handing it to Doyle solemnly. “Always knew something would make a nest in there one day.” For all his flippancy, his disquiet at Doyle’s impending departure was plain and it was keenly shared by Doyle himself.
Stretching dramatically Doyle straightened up from the box he’d been bent over and looked directly into the sad blue eyes that were fixed upon him. “I’m here for another week yet, love,” he said quietly. “We’ll make the most of it, eh?”
Bodie shook his head and sighed. “What’s a week? Bloody nothing, that’s what. How long after that will it be before I see you again?”
Doyle looked back at him, his face a picture of sadness and frustration. “I dunno… not long. Look, I don’t like it any more than you do y’know. But there’s not a lot we can do about it is there? Unless…”
“Unless what?”
Doyle took a deep breath before replying. “Unless you pack your job in here and come back to Oxford with me.”
Bodie looked stunned. “You are joking.”
Doyle gave a half-hearted grin. “Yeah, I suppose I must be. Never get you away from this place, will I. It’s too much a part of you.” He moved to stand directly in front of the land agent, insinuating his way between Bodie’s thighs as he sat. The temptation to wrap his legs around those of his lover and pull him in closer was too much for Bodie to resist. In fact he’d noticed that he was able to resist very little where Ray Doyle was concerned these days. As his hands roamed over the other man’s body he was rewarded with a long and tender kiss.
“The door’s wide open y’know,” Doyle said somewhat breathlessly as he eventually broke contact with his lover’s body. “Anyone could walk in here.”
“I know. Can’t help it though,” Bodie replied with a sigh. He looked up to find a pair of green eyes studying him intently.
“What?”
Doyle continued to frown at him for a few seconds then shook his head. “I was just thinking; you don’t know a soul in Oxford, do you? We could be completely open about everything and not give a toss who knows it. There’d be nothing to stop you moving in with me either…”
Bodie’s face contorted as if he were in pain. “Ray, please… ” he pleaded. “D’you think I don’t know that? Christ, there’s nothing I want more than for us to be together all the time. But don’t ask me to leave here, please… Just don’t ask…”
Doyle’s memory suddenly flashed back to the first proper conversation he’d had with Bodie; just a few short months ago in reality but seeming like a lifetime away. He felt as though this man had been in his life forever. He remembered Bodie’s face as he’d spoken about the Estate that day; his love for the place, his hopes and aspirations for its future. Doyle knew beyond doubt that his lover would never leave here and the realisation saddened him immensely.
He brushed Bodie’s hair back off his forehead and attempted a weak smile. “I know. Just have to think of some other solution, won’t we?” he said, hoping that he didn’t sound as bleak as he felt. Planting a quick kiss on the tip of his lover’s nose he stepped away from his grasp.
“Come on. You can give me a hand to carry some of these crates out to the van. Dan’s driving up to Oxford this afternoon, so he might as well take as many of them as he can.”
He pulled Bodie up from the desk and pushed him roughly in the direction of the loaded crates, noting with a pang of sympathy the unaccustomed air of quiet obedience and the dejected slope to his shoulders as Bodie carried the first of the crates outside. This was something of a turnaround for Doyle; usually it was Bodie attempting to lift his spirits when things got on top of him. Bodie the eternal optimist, always ready with a raucous comment and a grin wide enough to cut through the worst of Doyle’s moods. The knowledge that it was his imminent departure that was the cause of his lover’s despair touched Doyle deeply. He knew that his work here could actually be completed in two or three days, but his need for Bodie was as great as the other man’s for him and Doyle intended to delay his leaving as long as he possibly could. At least he would be able to give Bodie his undivided attention for a few days before he left, and maybe during that time they might be able to find a way through the problem of their separation. In any case, he was determined to give Bodie a week that he’d remember….
Early December 1976
He sat and stared at the column of figures in the ledger on his desk and waited in vain for them to suddenly start making sense. He supposed that he should have had some idea what they all meant, but he was damned if he could see it. With a sigh he picked his pen up and started to write, only to realise several minutes later that all he’d managed was the date. And he wasn’t even sure if that was correct. The sound of a throat being cleared nervously cut through the cotton-wool of his brain and he looked up to see his assistant studying him intently from the other side of the room
He sighed again and leaned back wearily in his chair. “What’s up, Tom? Suddenly grown a third eye in the middle of my forehead or something, have I?”
“You shouldn’t be here. You’re not well. Go home,” the other man replied unceremoniously.
Bodie looked back at him uncomprehendingly. “What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong with me, I’m fine.”
“No you’re not, you haven’t been for days. I reckon you’re coming down with the flu or something.” And with that pronouncement he turned his attention back to the filing cabinet which he’d been rummaging through for the previous ten minutes.
Tom was right of course, Bodie knew that. Not about him having the flu, or any other physical malady come to that, but Bodie was fully aware of the fact that he was performing well below par. Realising it was one thing; being able to do anything about it was another thing altogether.
There was a sudden cry of triumph from Tom as he found the elusive document that he’d been searching for, and with a brief wave to his superior he turned on his heel and strode smartly from the office.
Bodie didn’t know if he welcomed the solitude or not; it didn’t seem to make the slightest bit of difference to his mood whether he was in the company of others or completely on his own. He only knew that in the days following Doyle’s departure he’d been seized by a sense of isolation that was as all-enveloping as a cold December fog. And for someone who’d always been a loner, for the first time in his life he felt well and truly alone.
His eyes alighted on the pile of correspondence sitting in his in-tray -- an unusually untidy heap which seemed to double in size every time he looked at it -- and he reluctantly began to reach for the uppermost sheet of paper. Then, abruptly, he changed his mind, rising from his chair so quickly that it almost tipped over, and he grabbed his jacket as he strode purposefully from the room. “I’m taking your advice, Tom,” he said as he passed through the outer office. “Here, I’ll leave you to lock up.” He tossed his keys to his assistant and was gone, leaving the other man staring dumbly at his retreating back.
The damp, dismal day matched his mood perfectly as Bodie trudged along the lane, collar turned up against the drizzle which had set in over the past two days. He hadn’t needed to think about where he was going; as had happened so often over the past few weeks he had made his way up to the excavation site automatically. At first he had told himself that he was merely keeping an eye on the place, but he soon realised that that was not the real reason for his frequent visits. The truth was that he felt closer to Ray Doyle here than anywhere else; not in his bed, not in the office that they’d shared, but here in this one place that commanded so much of his lover’s enthusiasm, imagination and commitment. Bodie allowed himself a rueful smile as he wondered which of them would win if Doyle ever had to make a choice between him and the dig. Would he find himself taking second place to a muddy field? He suspected that it would be a close-run thing.
He leaned against the metal five-bar gate and scanned the site as best he could from the road. Everything appeared to be in order as far as he could tell. He’d called in a few favours with the Estate’s gamekeepers after Ray’s departure and on the odd occasions that they’d had wind of poachers operating at night he’d asked them to check on the site when doing their patrols. Thankfully everything had been quiet so far; Doyle’s likely reaction to another defilement of the site was something he’d rather not think about.
A shiver ran through him as he recalled that morning, not so long ago really, that Doyle had told him of the raid on the site. The first day that he’d dared to touch him, after wanting him for so many miserable weeks. He wondered, not for the first time, whether he would have ever plucked up the courage to follow his instincts if he hadn’t been confronted with the dejected, vulnerable man that the archaeologist had become that morning. He’d realised after many hours of lonely soul-searching that it was at that precise moment that he’d really and truly fallen in love with Ray Doyle. That was when he’d suddenly discovered that the sarky, bad-tempered little sod with the gloriously sexy body that he’d been lusting after was actually someone with a heart. And a heart that was capable of being broken, come to that. That was all it had taken to break down the defences that he’d spent years erecting and strengthening against all assailants. And until that moment he’d never admitted to himself just how much he wanted someone to break down those barriers that he’d so carefully and resolutely defended. Doyle had done it and he’d loved him all the more for it.
The realisation that he could feel a distinct trickling down the back of his neck brought Bodie’s reverie to a sudden halt. He had no idea how long he’d been standing there but it was obviously long enough for him to become soaked through. He placed both hands on the bars of the gate and pushed himself back with a grunt, which rapidly turned into a curse as he felt soft mud oozing through his fingers. Looking down at himself he uttered an even stronger curse as he discovered that not only were his jacket and trousers covered in the stuff but that it was also creeping over the tops of his shoes. Self-pity was not something that came naturally to him but for a few brief moments the temptation to indulge was too much to resist. What a fucking mess. Soaked to the skin and covered in shit. What the fuck else can go wrong?
He continued to curse under his breath as he tried to brush himself down but only succeeded in making even more of a mess of himself. It was only when he turned his attention to the quagmire that he was standing in that something began to niggle at the back of his mind. Why the hell was the ground churned up like this? He’d stood in this exact spot yesterday evening and, although it had been muddy underfoot, there was no sign of disturbance like this. And then he saw the tyre tracks -- sticking out like a sore thumb if only he hadn’t been too wound up in his own self-pity to notice. And, of course, the mud on the gate had obviously been left by someone’s boots as they climbed over into the field. Bodie was puzzled. There was no reason for anyone to come this way. He doubted very much if ramblers were responsible; there was no designated footpath here for one thing and anyway, crossing the field would bring anyone pretty quickly into the middle of nowhere. None of the neighbouring villages lay in that direction. He supposed that there was probably some quite innocent explanation for the whole thing, but he was damned if he could see it. On the contrary, he was starting to feel more uneasy by the second.
A shower, a change of clothes and a hot meal had all combined to make Bodie feel almost human again. He sank back onto his sofa, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand, and reached for the phone. Since Doyle had left they’d managed to speak on the phone most nights, although sometimes Bodie wondered if that was such a good idea. Each time he replaced the receiver at the end of their conversations he felt so dejected that in some ways it just didn’t seem worth it. But then by the next evening he was so desperate for the sound of his lover’s voice that he was prepared to go through it all over again.
Settling back with the phone in his lap he dialled the number and waited, enjoying the slightly fluttering sensation in his stomach as he anticipated Doyle’s greeting.
“Hello!” The eagerly awaited voice had a distinctly breathless and annoyed edge to it.
“Interrupting something, am I?” Bodie asked innocently.
“Oh. Hello,” came the more relaxed reply.
“That’s better,” Bodie smiled. “You OK?”
“No, I’m running late,” Doyle sighed. “I should have been gone fifteen minutes ago.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’m dining with one of the University’s biggest benefactors. I’ve been trying for the past month to get him interested in my plans for the site. It’s only really the funding that’s holding us back you know, and I’ve got a feeling that tonight I’m going to find out if he’s with us or not. If I can get him to invest a few hundred thousand then we can really start to press ahead with the… well, for what I’ve got planned.”
“You’re still not going to tell me, are you,” Bodie laughed.
“Nope. I told you, I’m superstitious. You’ll know soon enough.” Bodie heard his laughter being echoed on the other end of the phone. “Have you managed to convince his Lordship about your plans for the Estate yet, by the way?” Doyle continued, deftly changing the subject.
“I think I’m making progress,” Bodie replied with a sigh. “At least, the accountants seemed to think my ideas were viable. His Lordship might need working on a bit more. He can be an obstinate old bugger.”
“I miss you, y’know,” Doyle said suddenly.
“Oh Christ, I miss you too, Ray. Every bloody second of the day.”
Doyle groaned. “Wish I was there with you now, curled up on that tatty sofa of yours.”
“I’ll have you know this sofa’s a family heirloom,” Bodie replied with mock indignation, trying to lighten the mood and failing miserably.
“Yeah, but whose family? More like an Oxfam shop reject…” Doyle snorted in response, his own attempt at light-heartedness equally unsuccessful.
“Ray, this is bloody awful. I don’t know how long I can go on like this,” Bodie sighed.
“I know, love, but look… if things work out the way I hope they will it’ll make all the difference. I don’t just mean for the dig, I mean for you and me too. That’s why I’ve got to… Oh fuck, I’ve just seen the time. I’ve really gotta go, love, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, OK. Before you go though Ray, there’s something you should know.”
“Not gonna tell me you’re pregnant are you?”
“Ha! Make a bloody fortune from the Sunday papers if I was, wouldn’t I. No, listen. I think someone’s been snooping around the site.”
Doyle’s tone changed immediately. “Why? What’s happened?”
“Nothing to get worried about really. Just looks as though someone’s been parked up there and has climbed over the gate to get a better look. It’s probably nothing, but I thought you’d want to know. D’you think I should contact the police?”
“No, there’s no point,” Doyle replied after a few seconds. “They could hardly be bothered when something did happen, could they. They’ll just think you’re wasting their time.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll keep an eye on things as much as I can, anyway.”
“Look, I was sort of thinking of coming down this weekend anyway. Was going to surprise you actually, but never mind. I’ve got a free afternoon on Friday and nothing on all weekend. I could set off as soon as I finish my morning lectures and be there by mid-afternoon.”
“If you’re waiting for me to tell you that you don’t need to bother then forget it. Four weeks without you and I’m going crazy. Anyway, I sort of like the thought of you with nothing on all weekend…”
“I’ve really got to go,” Doyle laughed. “I’ll ring you tomorrow, OK?”
“OK,” Bodie smiled. “Oh, and Ray…”
“What?”
“Don’t go fluttering your eyelashes at this bloke tonight just for the sake of a few hundred grand, OK?”
Doyle chuckled heartily. “Didn’t think you were the jealous type.”
“Wasn’t until I met you,” Bodie replied, his tone suddenly serious. “I love you.”
“Oh God, Bodie. I love you too.”
“Speak to you tomorrow then.”
“Yeah. ‘Night, love.”
“’Night, Ray.” For the first time in almost a month Bodie failed to feel the familiar despondency as he replaced the receiver. Three more days and Ray would be here. He could almost feel him in his arms already. He stretched happily on the sofa and drank his cup of coffee, completely oblivious to the fact that it was now stone cold.
“You’re looking better.”
Bodie grinned sunnily at Tom and slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m feeling better. One hundred per cent better, in fact.”
Tom fell in beside the land agent as they strode across the field together and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t seen his boss in a good mood like this for the best part of a month, and it made his life a hell of a lot easier if he didn’t have a scowling Bodie to deal with day after day.
“This area’s badly overdue for coppicing, Tom. I reckon a good third of it could be thinned out.”
Tom nodded in agreement. “That little bit of felling down by the river should be all done today. I could get the lads started up here tomorrow, all being well.”
“Good. The sooner the better. Once that’s done we can start… ” His words were interrupted by the throaty roar of a car engine and the two men looked toward the road, both smiling in appreciation as an immaculate red Morgan sports car came into sight and approached at a speed that was totally unsuitable for the narrow country lane.
Tom gave out a low whistle of admiration. “Very nice.”
“Yeah. Out of our league though, mate,” Bodie agreed.
They watched as the car slowed slightly at the road junction and as Bodie’s eyes rested briefly on the driver he felt his insides flip. Despite only getting a fleeting glimpse of the figure behind the wheel before the car pulled rapidly away Bodie had recognised him immediately. Deakin, the pilot. Ray’s ex-lover. The one that had caused him so much misery and had hurt him so badly. Bodie could feel his blood starting to boil. What the hell is he doing here? Looking for Ray? He must know that the dig’s finished for the winter. Then again, maybe he doesn’t. He’s not working for the University any more. Maybe he thinks that Ray’s still here.
He tried to get a grip on himself. The anger that he felt at the man’s treatment of Ray was swiftly being outweighed by the even more disturbing thought that he was trying to find the archaeologist. He wants to get back together with him.
He knew he was being ridiculous. Ray hated the bloke, and the last time he’d seen them in each other’s company Ray had had no compunction in telling him so. And anyway, hadn’t Dan said that this Deakin took great delight in running Ray down to all and sundry? So why would he want to get things going between them again? But I know I could never give Ray up, not now. And maybe he feels the same…
“. . . Bodie. Mr. Bodie! Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“What? Oh… sorry. No, I’m OK Tom. What were you saying?”
“I was just saying… look are you sure you’re OK? You’ve gone a funny colour.”
“Suddenly felt a bit queasy, that’s all. Think I’ll have a slow walk back to the office, see if I can get myself pulled together. Can I leave you to sort out exactly what wants doing here and get things organised for the morning?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’ll see to everything.”
“Right, I’ll probably see you later then.”
“You sure you’re all right?”
Bodie gave him a weak smile. “Must’ve eaten something a bit dodgy. Daresay it’ll soon pass.” He managed a half-hearted wave and turned toward the road, trying to regain his composure as he retraced his steps back toward his car. By the time he reached the gate his mind was in so much of a whirl that he felt as if his head was going to explode. Sliding in behind the wheel of his car he forced himself to breathe deeply and try to think logically about things.
Supposing Deakin was looking for Ray. He must have worked with archaeologists long enough to know that they wouldn’t still be here at this time of the year. No, if he wanted Ray he’d be in Oxford, not here. So why was he here? Coincidence? No, he could rule that out. The only connection the man had with Warenford was the excavation, so it must be tied up with that in some way. A sudden thought hit him between the eyes like a thunderbolt. I’ll bet it was him up there. He parked his fancy car up and climbed the gate into the field.
Once the idea had struck him it seemed the obvious solution. But what the hell could he have been doing? He racked his brain to try and remember everything he knew about the man, trying to recall things he’d been told by Ray and by Dan. What had Dan called him? A “spiteful bastard” that was it. And something about him being involved in “something shady” wasn’t it? And also the fact that having his contract terminated by the University would probably leave a big hole in his income.
Things were suddenly starting to gel in Bodie’s brain. So what have we got - a vindictive bastard with a grudge against Ray and a grudge against the University who’s suddenly found himself not as well off as he’d like to be. Bodie was suddenly as sure as he could be that Deakin was somehow involved in the raid on the site and the destruction of Ray’s precious mosaic. Jesus, if he was standing in front of me now I’d kill him. And now he was back. In which case…
Bodie started the car and put his foot down all the way back to his office.
Several phone calls to Doyle’s rooms at the University and one to his flat had yielded no response. Bodie sat at his desk and tried desperately to work out what he should do. Calling the police was a non-starter, Ray was right. What proof did he have that Deakin was up to no good? They’d just sit and listen politely then send him on his way. One fact was obvious to him; if Deakin was going to cause trouble at the site then he wouldn’t hang around the village any longer than was absolutely necessary. Which could mean only one thing as far as Bodie could see. It would have to be tonight. And, if that was the case, then he was the only one who could put a stop to it.
He quickly glanced at his watch as he grabbed his jacket and made his way out of the office. It was four-thirty as near as dammit; just time to catch the forestry team before they packed up and went home for the day. With a couple of them, plus Tom and himself, he reckoned there’d be enough of them to thwart any plans that that slimy bastard might have. And -- if he was really lucky -- he might even get the chance for a little revenge on Ray’s behalf, a thought that caused the very slightest of smiles to break through his troubled expression.
Adjusting his position for the umpteenth time and still finding it impossible to ease the stiffness in his legs, Bodie opened the car door and stepped out into the night air. The sudden chill hit him and he looked up at the cloudless sky, thankful for the clear, moonlit night that would make their job so much easier if things turned out the way he anticipated. He checked the time -- it was two am. Two hours since he’d reversed through the gate at the head of the lane and parked just inside the field, hidden from the road but able to see anything that passed. And with Tom parked in a similar position at the far end of the lane any vehicle approaching the site would have to pass one or the other of them. He’d played safe by positioning another two men at the bottom of the excavation site, but it seemed unlikely that anyone would come from that direction, the nearest road being a good three-quarters of a mile away across wooded countryside. Reaching back into the car he picked up the walkie-talkie, one of three that he’d managed to borrow from one of the gamekeepers, and opened the channel. “Anything to report anyone? Tom?”
There was a crackle as he released the button and Tom’s voice came back in reply. “No, nothing here. How about you?”
“No, dead quiet. Frank?”
“Quiet as the grave, Mr. Bodie.”
“OK. Keep on your toes.” He tossed the walkie-talkie back inside and leant on the car roof, wondering if he hadn’t dragged his long-suffering colleagues away from their comfortable beds just to take part in a wild-goose chase. But every one of his instincts was screaming at him that tonight must be the night, and those instincts had served him well throughout all his Army years, saving him from serious injury or worse on at least one occasion.
He stood lost in thought for a while, only gradually becoming aware of a faint sound beginning to impinge upon his consciousness. His sudden identification of the noise as that of a car engine coincided with the crackle of his walkie-talkie. “Mr. Bodie?”
“Go ahead, Tom.”
“Car headlights approaching. Looks like just one vehicle. It’ll be passing me in about one minute.”
Looks like our luck’s in, Bodie thought. One car, five men at the most. Hopefully less. “OK, Tom. Leave your car and follow them up to the site on foot. Let’s catch them nice and unawares. Frank? Are you with us?”
“I’m here.”
“You and Billy start making your way to the site now.”
“Will do.”
Bodie could hear the car coming nearer as he set off towards the site, staying inside the field and as close to the hedgerow as he could. Tom was a good ten minutes further away from the site than him; Frank and Billy ten minutes further still. For a short while it would just be him and whoever was inside that car. As the sound of the car engine grew louder Bodie found himself desperately hoping to hear it stop up ahead and not continue past him, a reaction that had him puzzled at first. Did he actually want to see the site ransacked again? More artefacts stolen or destroyed? No, because he was confident that he and his colleagues could prevent that happening. What he wanted was to find out who was behind all this and for them to get their just desserts. And he wanted to do that for Ray. He might not be able to bring him back his cherished mosaic but it might at least take some of the hurt away for him. And if Deakin did turn out to be the perpetrator then Bodie would take a great deal of delight in handing out some justice of his own. He suddenly remembered the urge he’d had to smack the man in the mouth the first time he’d seen him, before he’d even known about Deakin’s history with Ray -- before he himself had even been on speaking terms with Ray in fact -- and he took a grim satisfaction in the thought that he might at last be able to fulfil that urge.
He had just reached the edge of the field next to the dig when, to his perverse delight, he heard the car draw quietly to a halt. Sinking back into the darkness of the hedgerow he waited and listened as one car door opened and closed, then another, and then a third. Three men then, perhaps? There was some mumbled conversation and then the creaking of a car boot being opened and then clicked shut. Slowly Bodie edged nearer to the gate and then froze as two men suddenly appeared just ten feet away from him. In the moonlight he could see their features clearly; neither of them were Rick Deakin, but each was carrying a piece of equipment which was instantly recognisable as being a metal detector.
Bodie waited. Two men and the sound of three car doors closing; there had to be at least one man still at the car. He watched as the two men walked away from him across the field deep in conversation, showing no sign that the thought of discovery had ever crossed either of their minds. About two-thirds of the way across the field they stopped and began to ready their equipment and as they placed their headphones in position Bodie suddenly realised that fortune was on his side. With the headphones on the two men were completely deaf to anything but the whine of their metal detectors. Unless he was unlucky enough that one of them should happen to look his way it seemed that their companion was his for the taking. Emerging from his leafy shelter he silently reached the gate which had been conveniently left open. Another stroke of good fortune; if he’d needed to climb it any element of surprise would have been totally lost.
And then Bodie saw him, just the person he’d wanted to see. Deakin, his back to Bodie, leaning on the roof of the car, smoking a cigarette and occasionally taking a lazy glance up and down the lane. Bodie had to clamp down on a feeling of near-exultation as he stepped out to within three feet of his quarry. “Nice night for a drive,” he said, shattering the silence.
He almost laughed as the other man whipped around to face him, his face a picture of alarm. But his equilibrium was restored almost immediately and he gave Bodie a half-hearted smile that failed to reach his eyes. “Insomnia,” he replied.
Cool customer, this one, Bodie decided, and he hated him even more. “Friends of yours, are they? Those two jokers currently trespassing on Lord Erskine’s land?” he asked.
As he straightened up Deakin’s hand edged towards a spade that was leaning against the side of the car, but Bodie was quicker. He grabbed the other man by the wrist and brought his arm up behind his back. As Deakin’s other arm came up underneath Bodie’s chin the land agent kneed him in the groin, and then twisted the wrist in his grasp with all his strength as Deakin sank to his knees. The resulting snap filled Bodie with immense pleasure. “That was for Ray Doyle, you bastard,” he hissed as the other man stared up at him.
To his amazement Deakin laughed defiantly. “I remember you now,” he gasped. “You were in the pub that night, talking to Ray. Fallen under the little whore’s spell, have you? Well you’re not the first and you certainly won’t be the last. He is good, I must admit. But then you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”
Bodie could never recall feeling a fury like it in his life. “You’re a piece of shit, Deakin,” he snarled. “I’m gonna make damn sure you never come within ten feet of Ray Doyle ever again.”
Again Deakin laughed, despite the obvious pain that he was in. “Oh, my goodness,” he exclaimed cynically. “Don’t tell me it’s actually love!”
As his fist came up to fulfil his desire to beat Deakin’s face to a pulp the land agent failed to register the shift in the other man’s attention. Too late he realised that Deakin was looking over his shoulder at something behind him. And as he turned he knew that his good fortune had deserted him. The searing pain across the small of his back knocked all the air out of him and he knew that he was in trouble. He looked up and saw something extremely solid about to make contact with his head, and then the blackness overwhelmed him.
There was a bell ringing somewhere. Ray Doyle struggled to identify where it was coming from. Turning over onto his back he tried to concentrate. Not his alarm clock; that buzzed, it didn’t ring. In which case it had to be the phone. He lay in bed and waited for it to stop, but it didn’t seem to have any intention of complying with his wishes. Pulling himself out of bed with a groan he slouched through into his living room and glared at the instrument which had disturbed his dreams. They’d been such nice dreams too…
“Yeah?” he said sleepily into the receiver, just managing to stifle a yawn as he did so.
“Dr. Doyle?”
He frowned at the unfamiliar voice. “Yeah.”
“Sorry to ring so early. It’s Tom Jarvis.”
The name meant nothing to him. “Sorry? Who? Tom who?”
“Tom Jarvis. Mr. Bodie’s assistant down at Warenford.”
“Oh! Yeah, sorry Tom. Couldn’t place the name for a moment.” He gazed blearily at his watch. Six forty-five? Surely that couldn’t be right.
“Dr. Doyle, there’s been some trouble at the site.”
Any vestige of sleep drained away from him immediately. “What sort of trouble?” he asked unsteadily.
“Men with metal detectors. Same sort of thing as happened before I’d guess, except that they were interrupted this time.”
Doyle was suddenly gripped by a blinding panic. Why wasn’t Bodie ringing to tell him this? Why was he talking to Tom and not Bodie? “Where’s Bodie?” He knew he was shouting and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
There was an audible sigh at the other end of the line before the other man answered. “It was him that stopped them. He got beaten up. He’s in hospital, that’s where I’m ringing from.”
Doyle’s legs suddenly seemed to lose the ability to keep him upright. “How bad is he?” he managed to ask, his voice little more than a squeak.
“Took a fair whack across his head and an even worse one across his kidneys. But they reckon he’ll be all right. Looks bloody awful, mind. Jesus, when I found him lying there -- well, I thought he was dead, I don’t mind telling you.”
A strange sound emerged from Doyle’s throat - somewhere between a sob and a gasp -- and all he could think was that he shouldn’t be letting on that it meant that much to him. Bodie wouldn’t want that. And so he bit down hard on his bottom lip and tried desperately to compose himself before he spoke again.
The silence must have gone on too long as he realised that Tom was speaking again. “…not as bad as he looks, apparently. I mean, he’s not unconscious or anything. He gave me your number, said I should ring you.”
It took two or three deep breaths before he trusted himself to speak. “Yeah, thanks Tom. Look, I can be down there in a couple of hours. Which hospital is he in?”
“The Cottage Hospital in Great Kimble. It’s about five miles…”
“Yeah, I know it. If I leave now I should be there by about nine.”
“OK then.”
“Oh, and, Tom, tell him that I’m on my way down will you?”
“Yeah, I will. It’ll… erm… it’ll mean a lot to him. Yeah, I’ll tell him. G’bye then.”
Doyle stared at the phone as he put the receiver down. Tom knew, he had no doubt about it. He’d picked it up the same as Dan had. Were they that bloody obvious? Seemingly they were to the people that knew them well. He shook himself mentally. This wasn’t what he should be thinking about now. His mind was all over the place. He tried to think what he had planned for that day and failed miserably. Before he even realised what he was doing he found himself dialling Dan’s number.
Surprisingly it only took two rings before the call was answered. “Hello.” Alison sounded disgruntled and totally fed-up.
“Hello, love, it’s me. Sorry if I woke you.”
“Oh, hello Ray. You’d have a job, I’ve been up since four-thirty. Madam decided it was time for me to get up.”
At any other time Doyle would have been only too pleased to discuss his goddaughter’s well-being. The child occupied a huge part of his heart and he loved her dearly. Sometimes he wondered if it was because he knew that she was the nearest he was ever going to get to having a child of his own. Today however he had more pressing concerns. “Look, I know that idle slob of a husband of yours won’t be up yet but could you get him for me? It’s important.”
“Oh, OK. Hold on a second Ray.”
He could hear the curiosity in the tone of her voice but he didn’t offer any explanations. He looked at his watch as he waited, desperate to get on the road. What the hell was Dan doing...
“Ray? What’s up? Is everything OK?”
“No, mate, it’s not OK. There’s been another raid on the site.”
“Oh Jesus…”
“Bodie’s in hospital.” He could hear the tremor in his voice but was powerless to stop it.
“Shit. Is he all right?”
“As far as I know, but I’m going down there. Now in fact.”
“Want me to come with you?”
“Thanks, but I need you to hold the fort for me here. My diary’s packed solid for the next two days; can you take care of things for me?”
“Of course I can, don’t worry.”
“Cheers, Dan. I’ll ring you later today and let you know what’s what.”
“OK, mate. Give Bodie my best wishes, will you? Oh and don’t go driving like a lunatic just for the sake of getting there ten minutes earlier. And make sure you ring me.”
Doyle found himself smiling despite the constant churning of his insides. “Yes, Mum,” he replied. “Thanks, Dan. I appreciate it.”
“Shut up and get going. I’ll talk to you later.”
Doyle replaced the receiver, hurried back into his bedroom, and within five minutes was on his way.
Bodie tried to find a comfortable position in his hospital bed but failed. Undecided whether the pain in his kidneys was worse than that in his head or vice versa, he eventually gave up on the idea and stayed where he was. He glanced across the ward to where a pretty young nurse was making up the empty bed opposite and smiled weakly when she caught his gaze.
“Would you like some more pain relief, Mr. Bodie?” she asked pleasantly.
“No, I think I’m OK for the moment, thanks,” he replied.
“Perhaps I can make you more comfortable then,” she said. She started towards him but stopped suddenly at the sound of raised voices outside the ward.
“I think I’d better just go and see what’s going on,” she said apologetically, moving towards the door.
Bodie raised his hand. “Don’t bother,” he said, allowing himself another smile. “It’ll be for me.”
The nurse looked at him questioningly as the door swung open and a curly-haired whirlwind entered.
“You’re too early for visiting hours,” Bodie observed as the newcomer approached his bed.
“I don’t give a toss,” Doyle replied tersely as he reached his side. He shot a glare in the direction of the nurse, who wisely decided that she could be better occupied elsewhere and promptly left.
Bodie waited for the tirade which he knew was about to come. It wasn’t a long wait.
“What the fuck did you think you were doing?” Doyle hissed. “Of all the stupid, irresponsible… scaring the fucking daylights out of everyone like that…”
Bodie closed his eyes and leaned back into the pillows. “Please, Ray. I haven’t got the energy,” he said wearily.
The ensuing silence went on longer than he would have expected. He felt the gentle touch of a hand slipping inside his as it lay on top of the covers. When he opened his eyes again he found himself looking at an almost distraught Ray Doyle, nervously worrying at a bottom lip that had a distinct tremble to it and with eyes that were far too bright and shiny.
“Don’t worry,” he said, giving the other man’s hand a squeeze. “I’m not about to peg out or anything.” He felt his hand being squeezed in return.
“Gonna tell me what happened then?” Doyle asked rather croakily as he perched on the edge of the bed. Doyle watched confused as a myriad of emotions seemed to flicker across his lover’s face. It was painfully obvious that something was making Bodie reluctant to tell him exactly what had occurred last night. “Bodie? What is it, love?” he asked quietly.
“The police haven’t spoken to you then?”
“Police? No, I came straight here. I haven’t spoken to anyone yet.”
Bodie sighed and Doyle gripped his hand more tightly. “Come on, tell me what happened,” he encouraged.
Bodie met his gaze and took a deep breath. “It was Deakin, Ray. He was behind it right from the start. He was the one that destroyed your mosaic, and last night he came back to do some more damage.”
“Rick?” Doyle whispered in disbelief. “I don’t believe it. I mean -- why, for Christ’s sake?”
Bodie shrugged. “A lot of reasons I suppose. To get back at you, to get back at the University for ending his contract. And, of course, to make some money if he found anything valuable.”
Doyle shook his head. “I don’t understand…”
Bodie watched in silence as Doyle struggled with the words he’d heard. He moved his thumb gently across the back of the other man’s hand as they sat. And then Doyle’s head came up abruptly, his eyes blazing. “And he did this to you?” he demanded, the fury bubbling barely below the surface.
“Not him personally. One of his cronies.”
“I’ll fucking kill him…”
Bodie gripped Doyle’s hand and pulled him closer. “Leave it, Ray. The bastard’s not worth it. I’ve told the police all about it. They’ve probably pulled him in by now. Just let them deal with it, OK?”
He could see that Doyle was desperately trying to control his temper. Slowly the grip on his hand lessened and the archaeologist’s ragged breathing became more even.
“It’s OK,” Doyle said eventually. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna do anything stupid.”
Bodie looked back at him sheepishly. “I think I already have,” he muttered.
“What d’you mean?”
“Just a little souvenir to remember me by,” the land agent replied quietly. “A broken wrist with any luck.”
“A broken…”
Doyle took in a deep breath and studied the other man carefully as he considered the information that Bodie had just shared. Bodie watched as the green eyes of his lover raked him over from head to foot, looking at him as if for the first time. “I don’t even know what happened to you,” Doyle said apologetically, raising a hand to the dressing on the land agent’s temple.
“Nothing I won’t get over in a few days,” Bodie ventured with a slight grin. “Half-a-dozen stitches in the skull and a couple of bruised kidneys. I’ll have a hell of a headache for a little while and I’ll be pissing blood for a week or so, but it’s nothing serious. I’ve had worse.”
The thought of what might have been made Doyle feel sick. Suddenly the dig and all the hopes and dreams that he had invested in it seemed unimportant. Nothing was more important than the man who was lying there in the bed. He reached out a hand and brushed Bodie’s hair back from his forehead. What did he mean, he’d had worse? There was still so much that he had to learn about this man and he wanted to know it all, every single little detail.
He took a deep breath and tried to get his mind back to practicalities. “How long are they gonna keep you in?”
Bodie’s grin grew wider. “Thought you were never going to ask. I can go home this afternoon as long as there’s someone to keep an eye on me. You know what they’re like with head injuries. D’you fancy keeping an eye on me?”
“All the time,” Doyle replied, returning the grin.
The banging of the door behind him made the archaeologist jump and he hurriedly tried to extricate his hand from Bodie’s grasp, only to find that it was held fast and that the other man appeared to have no intention of letting it go.
Doyle glared at him and tried again, only to find himself looking at a face that radiated innocence and still unable to pull his hand free. “Bodie,” he mouthed silently. “Let go…” Bloody hell, he thought, feeling a growing sense of panic. It’s the bloody head injury. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.
But the face that was smiling back at him seemed perfectly calm and collected and was showing no signs of confusion. Which was more than could be said for Ray Doyle. Deciding that leaving his hand where it was would cause less of a scene than giving it an almighty heave away from the man in the bed, he sighed and gave up the struggle.
At the sound of approaching footsteps Doyle finally felt his hand being released, and as he looked at his lover questioningly he saw the smile on Bodie’s face waver and become almost rueful. A sudden thought struck Doyle and he studied Bodie’s eyes carefully, but there was nothing abnormal about them as the other man steadily returned his gaze. So, he could discount drugs as the explanation for the land agent’s strange behaviour then. Still as blue and beautiful as ever, he thought, losing himself briefly in the tenderness that those eyes were directing back at him.
“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave now. You really shouldn’t be here at all, you know.”
The words startled him out of his reverie and Doyle looked up to see a young nurse approaching, the same one who had earlier beaten a nervous retreat at his noisy arrival. Feeling rather embarrassed at the way he’d burst into the ward he offered her a weak smile. “Yes, of course,” he replied, standing. “Thanks for letting me stay for a while.”
The nurse returned his smile, relaxing visibly. “You’re lucky you caught Sister in a good mood. Are you going to be taking this one off our hands?” she laughed, nodding toward the patient.
“I’ll go now if you like,” Bodie volunteered as he began to pull back the covers, only to find himself being pushed back none too gently by the slightly built woman.
“Oh no you don’t,” she scolded. “Doctor will want to have another look at you before you’re discharged, and then there’ll be your medication to sort out.” She turned to Doyle. “I’d say it’ll be three o’clock at the earliest before he’s ready to leave.”
Doyle ignored the groan that came from the bed. “OK, I’ll come back later then.” He gave the nurse a parting grin as she left the ward and then turned his attention back to the grumbling noise that was emanating from the direction of the bed. “It’s no good sulking, Bodie,” he admonished. “Just do as you’re told or you’ll end up staying here another night.”
“But I hate bloody hospitals…”
He looked so forlorn that Doyle couldn’t help but sit down on the bed again and take his hand. “Listen, I don’t want you having a relapse or anything so just behave yourself. I’ll be back later, OK? I suppose I’d better go and see the police, find out what’s been going on, eh?”
“I’m sorry, Ray,” Bodie sighed, his expression suddenly serious.
“Sorry? What for?”
“Sorry that it had to be Deakin of all people. It must… well, it can’t be easy for you, that’s all.”
Doyle looked down at their joined hands and shook his head disconsolately. It was several seconds before he spoke. “It was a shock when you told me, I won’t deny it. But I shouldn’t have been surprised really, it’s just typical of the sort of thing his twisted mind would think up.” He looked up at Bodie, the pain he was feeling only too obvious. “With any luck he’ll get what’s coming to him and he’ll be out of my life forever. Out of our lives. We’ve got a lot to look forward to, Bodie. I don’t want anything to spoil it.”
Bodie was taken aback by the intensity of Doyle’s words and the look of sheer anguish upon his face. The land agent could feel the constriction in his throat and for a few heart-wrenching moments he feared that anything that he tried to say to console his lover would fail to get past it. Instead he raised his free hand and cupped Doyle’s face, gently rubbing his thumb over his cheek. “Nothing’s going to spoil it, Ray,” he murmured eventually. “We won’t let it, will we?”
Doyle smiled and shook his head, then took Bodie’s hand from his face and kissed his palm softly. They sat unspeaking for several moments, both grateful for the fact that the small four-bedded ward was otherwise unoccupied.
“You’d better go before you get chucked out,” Bodie said, breaking the comfortable silence.
Doyle planted one more kiss in Bodie’s hand and then stood with a sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll be back later, love.”
He started towards the door and then turned back. “Tell you what,” he said. “Give me your keys. I’ll get some food in, make us something decent to eat for when you get home. What d’you fancy?” Bodie answered with a leer. “I meant to eat, you berk. Anyway, looking at the state of you I don’t think you’ll be up to much for a few days.”
Bodie grimaced as he gestured towards his jacket which was lying on the back of a chair. Doyle retrieved his keys from a pocket then leant over and pressed his lips to Bodie’s forehead. “You could lie back and think of England I suppose. I don’t mind doing all the work,” he whispered.
“Sounds wonderful,” Bodie whispered back.
He was still grinning in anticipation as Doyle left.
Doyle checked his watch as he left the police station. He still had the best part of two hours before he was due to collect Bodie from the hospital. Time enough to pick up some groceries and drop them off at Bodie’s place and maybe grab a sandwich while he was there. And he’d also take the opportunity to use Bodie’s shower. God knows he needed one; he’d left home in such a panic this morning that he’d had no time for his usual routine, and for some reason the hour or so that he’d just spent talking to the police had left him feeling just as dirty on the inside as he did on the outside. There was something in the way the detective who had interviewed him had looked at him, something in the tone of his voice that had made him feel uncomfortable. Almost as if he himself were a criminal and not one of the victims in the case.
He opened the door of the Land Rover and threw himself into the driver’s seat. For a while he sat and stared through the windscreen, his hands gripping the steering wheel, as fragments of the conversation replayed in his mind. “Certain insinuations,” the man had said. “Aspects of the case that would need further investigation.”
Doyle was at a loss to understand exactly what the man had meant; no other information had been offered, but the archaeologist had left the building with a sense of trepidation that he could not now shake off. What the hell was there for them to investigate? Bodie had identified Rick by name and the police had picked him up earlier that morning driving a car which matched the description and registration that Tom Jarvis had provided. So what was the problem? Surely the whole thing was cut and dried? And what the hell were these “insinuations” that the detective had spoken sneeringly of?
He started the engine up and pulled slowly out of the car park. No doubt things would become clearer over the next couple of days. In the meantime he had Bodie to consider. The thought of two or three uninterrupted days in the company of his lover was enough to banish any feelings of unease. Bodie wouldn’t be working, that was for sure, not in the state he was in, poor sod. So it would be up to Doyle to look after him and get him back on his feet. Round-the-clock care was what Bodie would need, he decided, and it was a very pleasant sensation to think that he would be the one to provide it. Very pleasant indeed.
Getting soft in your old age, Doyle, he chided himself, grinning wryly. Dreaming of domestic bliss… But then, why not? Spending the rest of his life with Bodie, ensconced in that poky little cottage of his, was an infinitely desirable prospect. Providing, of course, that he could ever persuade the land agent that living together would be a natural consequence of their relationship. As far as Doyle was concerned it was the next step for them to take, and a perfectly obvious one at that. Doyle had enough confidence in his powers of persuasion to believe that one day everything would turn out exactly as he hoped. His hand automatically dropped to his pocket and felt the envelope that was still lying safely there. With any luck the news that that letter contained would play a big part in his plans.
As Doyle entered the hospital ward he felt his stomach lurch at the sight of the man sitting beside the bed. The bruising on Bodie’s face had worsened in the few hours since he had left him, and his awkward position in the chair was a good indication of just how much discomfort he was in. The relief on his face when he saw Doyle was so apparent, and the smile he bestowed upon him so breathtakingly brilliant, that the archaeologist didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“Thought you were never coming,” he said with a gasp as he pulled himself upright. Doyle stepped forward to steady him only to find his hands being batted away impatiently. “I’m all right,” Bodie grimaced. “At least I will be once I get moving.” The frown on Doyle’s face made him wince once more. “Oh Christ, I’m sorry Ray. Bloody hospitals always make me bad tempered. Come here…”
And with that, to his utter amazement -- and not a little delight - Doyle found himself being pulled into a bear hug that threatened to severely curtail his breathing. He leaned gratefully into Bodie’s embrace, relishing the physical contact with his lover after so many weeks apart. It was only as he became aware of the large capable hand which was carding gently through his hair, and the fact that the other man’s breathing was becoming more ragged that an alarm bell began to go off somewhere in his brain. “For God’s sake, Bodie,” he whispered urgently. “We’re gonna have an audience in here any second. What’s got into you?”
Bodie took a deep breath as he reluctantly pulled away. “Common sense I think,” he replied quietly. “Got something to tell you when we get home.”
Doyle smiled. “Well, I’ve got something to tell you too. Come on.”
As Bodie made his way slowly toward the door Doyle suddenly stopped him.
“Look,” he said, his face contorting in sympathy with the other man’s obvious pain. “The Land Rover’s parked right over the other side of the car park. Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll bring it up to the door, save you the walk. D’you think you can manage or shall I get the nurse to bring a wheelchair?”
Bodie fixed him with his best glare. “I don’t need a ruddy wheelchair!” he hissed. “What d’you think I am, an invalid or something?”
Doyle held up his hands in submission. “OK, I’m sorry. It was just a thought, that’s all. Just take your time, all right, and I’ll see you outside.” Bodie nodded as Doyle gave his arm a parting squeeze and turned on his heel.
Walking briskly along the corridor Doyle suddenly found himself face to face with the nurse who had been tending to Bodie earlier in the day. He greeted her with what he hoped was his best smile. “Just the person,” he said breezily. “I’m just going to bring the car around to the front. Can you do me a favour and see that Bodie makes it to the door in one piece? He says he’ll be OK, but he looks pretty shaky to me.”
“Don’t worry,” she smiled back. “I’ll watch him.”
He mumbled his thanks as she set off in the direction of the ward.
“Visiting the sick, Ray? How sweet.”
Doyle clenched his fists tightly at the sound of the voice which came to him through the open door of an examination room. The anger that swept through him as he turned to face the occupant of the room was almost beyond his control. Three strides took him into the room to stand belligerently before Rick Deakin. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he snarled in furious disbelief. “Why aren’t you locked up where you belong?”
Deakin gestured to the sling which was supporting his right arm. “Didn’t your boyfriend tell you?” he said smugly. “Bloody well broke my wrist. He’s the one that needs locking up. I’m considering having him charged with assault.”
Doyle was finding it hard to speak. “Pity it wasn’t your fucking neck that he broke,” he gasped. “Bodie was protecting his employer’s property, and getting himself badly beaten into the bargain. Have you seen what your thugs did to him?”
“Nothing to do with me,” the other man shrugged disinterestedly. “I was just an innocent bystander. I’ve told the police exactly what happened; and as I’m of previous good character they’ve let me out on police bail, pending further enquiries.”
Doyle felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. His teeth were clenched so tightly that his jaw hurt. “What exactly did you tell the police?”
“Only the truth. How your boyfriend attacked me in a jealous rage because he believed you wanted to rekindle our relationship. How my friends had to forcibly restrain him from almost killing me.”
Doyle was finally rendered speechless.
“Loverboy’s word against mine, Ray,” Deakin laughed. “I must admit when good old Dan told me that I should leave you alone because you’d found someone else I found it hard to believe. Who on earth could there be in this shithole of a place worthy of your attention, hmm? But I must admit, Ray, he is a looker. What’s he like in bed? Good as me, is he?”
Doyle’s every instinct was telling him to hammer this man into the ground, but for some reason he was rooted to the spot. He continued to gape at Deakin silently.
The blond man was enjoying his game immensely. “Just think of the scandal though, Ray, when all this comes out. Your poor Mr. Bodie; highly respected pillar of the local community and he turns out to be just another queer boy. How on earth will he ever live it down?” He circled Doyle slowly, taunting him with the amusement that he made no attempt to disguise. “Of course, if loverboy decided not to press charges and let the whole thing drop then I might just change my mind. It’s not nice to have to broadcast somebody’s perversions to the world at large really, is it? Those of us who are similarly inclined should stick together, after all.”
Doyle failed to recognise that the strangled roar which filled his ears had come from his own throat. His left hand shot out and wrapped itself around Deakin’s neck, forcing the wide-eyed man backwards until he was up against the wall. Doyle’s senses were filled with the sight of his ex-lover’s contorted features, his only desire to pummel the face that he’d once thought so handsome into oblivion. His fist came up ready to fulfil that desire and then was held fast, stopped in its downward motion by strong fingers which gripped his wrist firmly.
For a second Doyle defied the interruption, struggling to extricate himself from the unseen hand that held him. And then gradually he realised that someone was speaking to him; a low, familiar voice which murmured calmly beside him. “Leave it, Ray. Let him go. He’s not worth it, sunshine.”
Doyle turned, confused, to face the newcomer. He didn’t understand. Surely Bodie wanted to see Deakin hurt as much as he did?
But Bodie was still speaking to him, guiding him back, away from the man who was now leaning against the wall for support and gasping for breath. “Come on, Ray. That’s it. Let him go now.”
Bodie’s steady tones began to have their desired effect as Doyle allowed himself to be pulled away. As he looked into Bodie’s eyes he suddenly felt a sense of panic as Deakin’s words came back to him. “Bodie, you don’t know what he’s gonna do…” he whispered.
“I heard what he said to you, Ray,” Bodie replied quietly.
“He’ll do it, you know…” Doyle looked back at Deakin; despite the other man’s discomfort and shock the familiar self-satisfied expression was beginning to return and Doyle’s heart sank. He turned his attention back to the land agent and, incredibly, he saw Bodie smile.
“I don’t care,” he said confidently, his eyes firmly locked on Deakin. “He hasn’t got a leg to stand on and he knows it. That’s why he’s having to resort to blackmail. The thing is, Ray, he can say whatever he likes. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
The flicker of uncertainty that played across Deakin’s face only made Bodie’s smile broader. He turned to Doyle and draped an arm across his shoulders, turning him towards the door. “Come on, let’s go home.”
As they walked in silence along the hospital corridor Doyle gradually became aware of the fact that Bodie’s arm was beginning to weigh heavily on him. He glanced across at him and was alarmed to see the beads of sweat which were running down his face. “Christ, are you OK?” he asked, concerned.
Bodie shook his head and grimaced. “No, I’m bloody knackered,” he replied with a groan. “Think I twisted something when I stopped you thumping that bastard.”
“Should’ve left me to it then, shouldn’t you.” Doyle wrapped an arm around his waist for support as they made their way slowly to the car park.
Doyle sat at the wheel of the Land Rover, waiting until Bodie had eased himself into some semblance of comfort before he spoke. “What the hell are we going to do?” he asked shakily.
“Nothing,” the other man replied simply.
Doyle shook his head in exasperation. “It won’t work, Bodie. He’ll call your bluff. He’ll say all sorts of things about you -- about us -- and however much you deny it it’ll stick.”
Bodie winced as he shifted in his seat. Leaning forward he took Doyle’s hand in his own and entwined their fingers. “I’m not bluffing, Ray. I told him that it doesn’t matter what he says, and it doesn’t. The point is, blackmail only works if the person you’re blackmailing has something to hide. And I haven’t.”
“What are you saying exactly?”
Bodie took a deep breath and tightened his grip on his lover’s hand. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. I’m not hiding anything any more. You’re the most important thing in the world to me, and I’m not going to spend the rest of our lives pretending otherwise.”
“Bodie…”
“No, just listen to me for a minute. These past four weeks have been the worst of my life. I couldn’t think of anything except how much I wanted to be with you, to have you next to me all the time and never be apart again. I suddenly realised that that’s how it would always be unless I stopped living a lie.”
Doyle looked back at him, a stunned expression on his face. “Do you know what you’re saying?” he replied, his voice no more than a whisper. “Are you really sure about this?”
Bodie nodded and smiled. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Doyle closed his eyes and tried to gather his thoughts. He should be the voice of commonsense here. He knew what it was like to be harassed and abused because of your sexuality; knew what it was like to be sneered at because you chose not to pretend to be something you weren’t. Bodie had no idea, no experience of that. And so much to lose as well. But despite the arguments that were forming in his brain there was also a warm glow beginning to flicker through him, like a spark of electricity that was starting from his boots and gradually working its way upwards.
“What about your family? And your job?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady but not succeeding. “It’d tear you apart if you had to move away from here. You love this place.”
Bodie’s expression softened as he gazed steadily into Doyle’s eyes. He lifted their joined hands to his face and brushed Doyle’s knuckles across his lips. “I love you more.”
Doyle’s vision blurred as the realisation of exactly what Bodie was offering him suddenly hit him. He swiped at his eyes with his free hand and laughed quietly. “OK then,” he said shakily. “I won’t argue any more. You win.” The fact that Bodie’s eyes were also suspiciously bright was hurriedly disguised by the grin of sheer delight that he now bestowed upon his lover. “I don’t suppose this new found freedom of yours extends to kissing me in a public car park, does it?” Doyle asked, returning the grin in full.
When there was no reply other than a sultry look he started up the car engine. “Thought not,” he continued. “Better get back to your place before you change your mind then.”
Doyle closed the door of the cottage behind him, wincing in sympathy with every painful step Bodie took as the other man walked stiffly across the room.
The land agent suddenly turned and looked at him. The discomfort that he was in showed clearly in his eyes but the expression on his face was one of happiness and relief. “You could have that kiss now if you like,” he smiled.
Doyle stepped forward into the warmth of Bodie’s arms, eager for the taste of his lover’s mouth; longing for Bodie to make him forget the loneliness of the past four weeks. But the kiss was just beginning to deepen when Bodie abruptly pulled away. “What’s wrong?” Doyle asked breathlessly, a note of concern edging into his voice.
Bodie frowned and looked at Doyle in dismay. “You’re not holding me,” he replied sulkily.
Doyle leaned forward and rested his head on Bodie’s shoulder. “Scared to hold you,” he murmured quietly. “Don’t want to hurt you.”
Bodie smiled as he grabbed the other man’s arms and wrapped them around himself. “Hold on as tightly as you want. I’ll survive,” he replied as he dipped his head to begin the kiss again. And this time it lasted, long enough to make them both gasp for air when they finally broke free.
For a second neither of them spoke, content just to look and touch and drink in the sight of one another. It was Doyle who eventually broke the silence. “You really did mean the things you said, back there at the hospital?”
Bodie began to reply and then stopped, taken aback by an air of vulnerability that he’d never seen in the other man before and he cursed himself for being so insensitive. He knew how disastrous Ray’s previous attempt at a serious relationship had been. He was bound to be nervous about committing himself again.
His brief hesitation caused Doyle’s eyes to widen in panic, and Bodie suddenly felt almost overwhelmed by his feelings for him. “Oh, Ray,” he gasped, pulling Doyle to him so tightly that the slighter man had difficulty breathing. “Of course I did. Every word. Would I have said anything if I didn’t?” Releasing Doyle just enough that he could look into his face he smiled and was relieved to see his smile returned.
“No, you wouldn’t,” Doyle agreed, his self-confidence restored.
“Now, there’s just one thing to decide,” Bodie continued. “How soon can you move in?”
Doyle’s eyes were even wider this time. “Oh shit!” he laughed. “I almost forgot…”
He stuck a hand into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew a white envelope which he thrust into Bodie’s hand.
“What’s this?” Bodie asked, puzzled.
“The reason that I was originally coming down here this weekend. Read it.”
Doyle watched with barely disguised excitement as Bodie unfolded the contents of the envelope and read slowly. “Well?” he prompted as Bodie carefully refolded the letter. “What d’you think?”
The smile on his face faded as Bodie looked back at him, his disappointment only too obvious. When he spoke his voice was barely audible. “It’s… it’s great news, Ray. “Project Director” - just what you wanted. Congratulations, I’m pleased for you.”
“Hang on a minute. I thought you’d be happy. What’s the problem?”
Bodie took a deep breath. “It’s just that… well, here am I making all these plans about you and me living together and everything, and now it looks as though… well, fuck it, I’ll never see you now, will I? Why didn’t you say something before I started letting myself believe that we actually had a chance of being together?”
Doyle gaped at him, confused. “Bodie… love, you don’t understand…”
The screwed up letter hit him square in the chest as Bodie stalked across to the other side of the room. “I understand that you’ll be stuck up in Oxford full-time, sat on your arse behind a desk. You won’t be coming down here getting covered in mud in the bottom of a trench, will you?”
“Just listen, will you…”
“I know we wouldn’t have been together much for the next few months -- weekends perhaps if we were lucky -- but at least in the spring you would have been working down here full-time again and by that time we might have worked something better out…” His words trailed away as he slumped onto the sofa, utterly dejected.
Doyle walked slowly over and sat beside him, smoothing out his letter as he did so. “Finished?” he asked. “Gonna let me explain now?”
Bodie glared at him in reply.
“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Doyle continued. “Right, point number one. The very fact that the University have appointed a Project Director means that the whole thing has been upgraded, which means that money’s no object. They’re gonna be chucking the stuff at us like it’s going out of fashion. And yes, you’re right; being Project Director is just what I wanted. You know how much this site means to me, for God’s sake. It’s my baby, and I’ve been working my balls off to make sure that I got this job.”
He took a breath and waited for a response. He didn’t get one. “OK, point number two then. This is where you come in. Just think about what the University’s going to spend all their lovely money on. Not just the dig itself and all the research. Probably a visitor centre; maybe a small museum; links with local schools and colleges. How does that fit in with all your plans for the Estate, eh? Bring the tourists in, all that will, once we get established. Coach trips, the lot.”
He had all Bodie’s attention now.
“It sounds exactly what I had in mind,” Bodie admitted grudgingly. “But sod it, Ray, what about…”
Doyle’s patience was starting to wear thin. “Oh for Christ’s sake, Bodie! Don’t be such a bloody berk! I can’t run something like that from ninety miles away, you prat. I’ve got to be here, on the spot, permanently.”
Bodie stared at him open-mouthed and on impulse Doyle leaned forward and kissed him. “Are you starting to get the picture now?” he asked, an indulgent look upon his face.
Bodie nodded. “I think so,” he replied, a slow smile starting to appear.
Doyle took both his hands in his own. “Of course, nothing’s been agreed with Lord Erskine yet. We’ll have to negotiate with him for the sale, or maybe the lease, of some land to build on, but I’m sure you’ll be able to work your powers of persuasion on him.”
“What powers of persuasion?” Bodie asked innocently.
Doyle leered back at him. “The ones you’re always trying out on me. But not with the same outcome I hope…”
Bodie shuddered theatrically and pulled Doyle across the sofa so that he was almost straddling him. “This could save the Estate, you know,” he said, his voice suddenly serious.
“I know,” Doyle nodded. “ I hope it does.”
Bodie looked up at him, his eyes shining. “Can we go to bed now?”
“Think you can manage it? Don’t want you ending up back in hospital.”
“Only one way to find out, isn’t there?” He reached up and threaded his fingers through the other man’s hair, pulling him down into a lazy kiss.
“D’you know what?” he said as they parted. “I haven’t even asked you yet, have I?”
Doyle looked down at him and frowned. “Asked me what?”
“Whether you want to spend the rest of your life with me or not.”
The love that was gleaming in Bodie’s eyes took Ray Doyle’s breath away. Nobody had ever looked at him with so much love in all his life. Not trusting himself to speak, instead he leaned forward and kissed Bodie like he’d never kissed anyone before. Everything he felt for Bodie, everything he wanted to say to him, all his hopes and dreams for their life together; he poured it all into that kiss. And when he looked into Bodie’s face afterwards he knew that his lover had felt it too.
“Does that answer your question?” Doyle said shakily as he straightened up.
Bodie licked his lips and considered his reply.
“Not sure,” he said eventually. “Want to try telling me again?”
Doyle smiled as he leaned forward again. “As often as you like,” he replied. “And for as long as you like.”
And they both knew that it would be for a very long time indeed.
-- THE END --
Originally published in Secret Agent Men 4, Devious Developments Press, October 2004
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