The Forest Savage Read online

  She looked calmly back, vaguely concerned and kind, then took pity on him. “Well. We don’t have to start today, but I want you to think about it— how we can talk. Some people like to go over events, other people prefer me to ask the questions. One man even wrote me a poem once.” She glanced down at her diary, and he was released from the eye lock. He looked away, concentrating on the posters on the walls and the glue that held his face together. “I have to visit you, at home. How about Tuesday, at one?”

  He nodded, anything to get away. “Yes, that’s fine. I’m afraid it’s a dump, not that I’m complaining.”

  But she just smiled, and handed him the diary sheet. “Oh, don’t worry. It won’t be anything I haven’t seen a million times before. You’re at Stonehenge Hostel, aren’t you?” He nodded, and it was over.

  He couldn’t face going back to that room and the lurking memories just yet, so he ambled down to the canal walkway. This city was unfamiliar to him, only fifty miles away from his home town, but far enough that he need not worry about bumping into anyone he knew.

  Not having history here was both comforting and lonely. Had Jay ever been here? And there it was, like a smack in the mouth. After nearly two years and a prison sentence, he still couldn’t go more than five minutes without thinking of him, without missing him. “Cal!” The shout interrupted his thoughts, and made him jump with alarm.

  It was Troy, running towards Cal, gangly and awkward, arms and legs flying in seemingly random directions. He came to an abrupt halt, only stopping by crashing into Cal’s chest. He spluttered and gasped dramatically, smiling up at Cal, black eyeliner making him look even more stunning. “I thought it was you. Saw you coming out of Probation. What you doing down here?”

  “I was just having a walk along the canal.”

  Troy brushed his dark mop away from his face, which was pale and beautiful, probably a girl magnet, not that Cal knew anything about relationships.

  “Can I come?” Troy asked hopefully, clutching at Cal’s arm and making his chest lurch. When was the last time anyone had touched him?

  Small talk was never easy to Cal, so he shrugged, and started walking. “Did you sort out your debts?” he asked, unable to resist glancing sideways at the hand still fastened to his arm, igniting warm, shivery tingles.

  “Sort of, yeah. Anyway, where you from then? I’ve lived here all my life, not for much longer though. I’m so out of here.” He looked at Cal expectantly, tutted, and plunged on, “Yeah, thanks for asking. I’m a singer. Good, too. I do the pub circuits, the unis. Maybe you’ve heard of me? You wanna come and see me?”

  Cal murmured a noncommittal assent, too overawed at the pressure on his arm to answer. They walked on for a while, Troy telling him all about his life and his successes, and Cal nodding every so often. There was an awful lot that didn’t add up about Troy’s story.

  “You don’t say much, do you?” Troy asked, stopping, grey eyes peering up at him through thick hair.

  “You didn’t give me much chance.” Cal smiled, watching Troy fiddle in his pocket, presumably for bubble gum.

  “No, suppose not. Motor mouth, that’s what my mum called me.” Troy pursed his lips, sniffed, and they turned back.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?” Cal asked. It was a long time since he had heard anyone chattering, apparently uninhibited by secrets and a past. Jay’s twin sister, Anna, talked to him like that, once.

  “Girlfriend? Umm, yeah. Been with her two years now. She’s called… Bella, she’s a professional singer,” Troy announced, looking away abruptly.

  Cal managed to prevent himself from shaking his head in disbelief, and nodded vaguely instead, murmuring, “That’s nice.”

  As they neared the hostel, the two men who beat Troy up were drinking from cans. Cal’s hands curled into fists, but they looked away shiftily. Troy pulled him swiftly through the entrance, talking loudly. “Might as well be friendly. We are neighbours, after all.” He propelled him up the filthy stairs, right into his room. Troy’s room made Cal feel queasy and ill. It was grey, dirty, smelly, and miserable. Piles of clothes were everywhere, and the bedding looked like rags.

  The one splash of colour was a T-shirt hanging on the back of the door. It was black, with a red sequin heart in the middle, and the words ‘You Wish’ printed across the middle. Troy seemed to sense Cal’s unease and became quiet himself, crossing his arms and chewing on his hair. “I won’t be here much longer,” he said, seriously.

  “How much do you owe those men? They don’t look like they’re giving up,” Cal enquired.

  “I’ll pay them back, don’t worry. I can look after myself.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Cal said, kindly, thinking what a shit world it was, as he gulped his tea too quickly, keen to return to the ‘comforts’ of his own room. At least he had a working TV now. At the last minute, he turned back, looking at Troy in that drab room on his own like a speck of sunshine amidst ruins. “Come round, later, if you like. I’m getting in a pizza. We can watch TV. You pick the show.”

  Troy pushed hair from his eyes, and sniffed. “Thanks, but you don’t mean that. I get on your nerves. I piss everyone off.”

  Cal was appalled. “No, no, you don’t. I enjoy talking to you. Honestly. I’m just not used to being around people much. Come round, please?”

  Troy’s face instantly lit up, the grey eyes shining like glistening water. “Okay. I mean, if I’m not too busy.”

  “Of course.” Cal winked, and left.

  ****

  Chapter Four

  Troy came round often after that, with tales of his conquests and his singing, sometimes re-enacting his most successful chat-up lines, making them both laugh. Cal understood it was all rubbish. By now, he knew that everyone at the hostel was either on probation, mentally ill, or homeless.

  Despite his fantasies and lies, there was still something genuine about Troy that warmed Cal, reminding him of times long gone. He started getting in biscuits and snacks that Troy liked, smiling ruefully as he went on special biscuit trips to the shops.

  One night, they were watching TV. Cal held out a plate of biscuits. “Here— your favourites.”

  Troy shrieked. “Fantastic! I bloody love these.” He ate it slowly, savouring every crumb.

  “Aren’t you having one, Cal?”

  “I don’t like biscuits. I just got them for you.”

  Troy wiped his mouth, and stared up at him, almost sorrowfully. “You bought these just for me? But, they’re expensive, them. You’re on benefits, same as me.”

  Cal’s insides twisted uncomfortably. It was worse than he’d thought then, if a biscuit sent Troy into ecstasy. “Troy, they’re just biscuits. You’re my friend. Chill out.”

  It was usually Cal who got embarrassed. Sometimes when Troy told him intimate details of his girlfriends, he made a show of hiding his face in the pillow, or wincing dramatically. But today, it was Troy. He drew his knees up to his waist, and hugged himself, as if he needed protection from Cal’s biscuits.

  “Look. Britain’s Got Talent is on.” Cal tried hard, but he couldn’t quite get Troy back to his exuberant, noisy self. When he left, Cal handed him the biscuits. “Here, you might as well have them.”

  Troy leaned forward, and brushed a quick kiss on Cal’s cheek, snatched the biscuits, and fled. It was a while before Cal stopped smiling, hot from the odd warm rushes on his face and neck.

  ****

  The next day, Cal woke up and knew it was time for his first task.

  The journey was only an hour, and he was saved from having to think too much by the crowds of people in the train corridors. There was no time for deep thinking, or preparation, and when he got off the train, the shaking legs and tunnel vision struck him like a deadly, immobilizing arrow.

  But somehow, he walked the short distance there and stepped through the gate, not really aware of the rain trickling down his collar.

  The cemetery was a beautiful place, full of trees, flowers, ornate benches, a
nd memories. As a child, he had come here with Jay and messed about, looking for gravestones with their birthdates. He could still remember on which graves they had drunk cider, kissed girls, and had long and meaningful talks. Maybe it was here that Cal had fallen in love, completely, and for life. He wandered about until he found it. Jay’s gravestone.

  Jay’s sister, Anna, had chosen a good place for him. It was at the edge, overlooking the fields and away from the busy grave streets. It was pretty, and quiet, and Jay would have hated it.

  It was just stone, in the end.

  A grey slab, with some words, and flowers.

  ‘Jay Fischer. Loving son, brother, and uncle.’

  That this small patch of concrete could contain Jay was laughable. It was funny, and wrong, and soon Cal was on his knees, heaving and sobbing, the cold horror seizing his limbs. This was not meant to happen. If he could just reach Jay, somehow, but there was only the wind and rain beating against a concrete slab with meaningless words.

  The ground was damp and cold against his face as he collapsed, arms around the gravestone. “Jay? Can you hear me?” He stroked the cold stone. “I’m so sorry. You know I’m sorry, Jay. I’m going to make it right. I’m going to see Anna, and your mum, and then I’ll be through. I’ll find you, like I always found you. I won’t let you down again, I promise.”

  Every day since Jay died, Cal had stored up some tears, which now burst from him in painful gasps and howls. “I miss you, I miss you so much.” He lost touch of his surroundings for a while, just let it all go, huddled against the grave, getting wetter and unable to find any reason to leave, or carry on.

  ****

  It was still the same day, but felt like a million years later when he got back to the hostel. A scuffle made him glance into the alleyway, to see Troy on his knees, being skull fucked. Fury burst from Cal. “Get off him,” he shouted, rushing at the men with a flurry of fists and kicks. At first they fought back, but not for long.

  Troy was already on his feet, furious and throwing fists of his own, shouting incoherently as Cal held him tightly to prevent more damage being done to either of them. “Calm down, it’s okay. They’ve gone, it’s all right. Ssh, Troy. Stop.”

  “Let me go!” Troy wriggled like an eel, until Cal released him in confusion. “Get your hands off me. You trying to get me killed, you bloody stupid fucker?”

  “It’s me, Cal, from next door. I’m not going to hurt you. Shall we call the staff, or the police?”

  Troy looked blankly, incomprehension written all over his deathly pale face. “What the fuck are you talking about? Call the police? What’s it got to do with the police?”

  “Those men were about to rape you.”

  Troy began to laugh, awful hard, nasty laughter that hurt Cal’s ears. “Rape me? They weren’t gonna rape me, you stupid idiot. I asked them to fuck me, d’you get it? Asked them to.” He stared at Cal challengingly, breathing too fast, his hair all over his face, tears starting to fall.

  “Why?” Cal’s move to touch him was instinctive, like soothing a hurt kitten, but Troy pulled back, crossed his arms and scowled, as the tears ran down his face.

  “What do you mean, why? Because he told me to,” he shouted, running away into the hostel.

  Cal made his way to his room and sank to the bed, weariness seizing him, turning his limbs into warm water. What kind of shit was Troy involved in? The day’s events pulled him almost immediately into an uneasy sleep.

  He blearily came back to consciousness a few hours later, hearing banging about next door. He tried to ignore it for a while, then remembered Troy’s face as he left, all ashamed and embarrassed. Cal thought for a bit about Troy’s supposed ‘girlfriend’, then went and knocked softly on Troy’s door. “Troy? I’m getting in Chinese takeout. You going to come and help me eat it?”

  The door opened immediately, as if Troy had been waiting right behind it. His hair was sticking up and he had fresh eyeliner over red eyes, hurt but defiant. “No thank you. I’m going out.” There was a pause, while they both listened to his stomach rumble. “Are you getting noodles, Cal? Prawn crackers?”

  Cal nodded. “Yeah. Noodles, prawn crackers, chicken sate, chips, curry sauce. Shall I get you some?”

  “Yes, go on then. If you’re going to get it anyway, I’ll help you out. But I can’t stay for long. I’ve got… friends waiting for me.”

  “Okay. I won’t be long, see you in a bit.” Cal smiled all the way to the restaurant.

  They shared the takeaway, with Troy doing most of the eating. He kept up his usual chattering, about a singing event he was invited to, in a month’s time, apparently having forgotten the sordid events of earlier, so Cal said nothing either.

  “They asked me back, by popular demand, see. This could be my big shot.” His hair fell forward as he spoke, and Cal was struck again by how gorgeous he was. Before he thought better of it, Cal had spoken. “I’m sorry, about earlier. I thought they were trying to hurt you.”

  Troy swallowed and froze, pressing his hands together with his head down, dark lashes forming shadows over the inscrutable face. Cal mentally thumped himself. Why couldn’t he leave it alone?

  “I know you did. Thank you.” Troy spoke so quietly Cal had to edge forward to listen, wishing he could lean even farther.

  “Troy? Why don’t you get a nice boyfriend? Those men were horrible. And what did you mean about someone making you do it?”

  Troy’s face broke into a sad smile. “Yeah. Pretty shit, weren’t they? No one made me, I was just talking rubbish.” He shrugged, making his whole body and the ‘You Wish’ T-shirt wobble as if it were crying. “Trouble is, I don’t know any nice boys. Who would wanna date me? And sometimes, I just. I just need someone to touch me. You know?” he finished, voice trembling.

  Cal’s stared at the T-shirt so hard his eyes hurt. “Yeah. Well, you’re far too good for them. Rough bastards.”

  “Maybe.” Troy shrugged, as Cal ached and yearned.

  “Sorry, Cal. For lying about the girlfriend, and the other stuff.”

  ****

  Chapter Five

  Sometimes when Cal first woke up, he had forgotten. Before he really knew where he was, or what day it was, he felt the same truth he had known since he was a little boy: he loved Jay. It was his first thought even before it really became a thought, more a purpose of being. Then, as consciousness filtered through like light under a curtain, he remembered. Every day, he was shocked that Jay was dead. Some mornings he still threw up, and any day that starts with acid and bile is surely doomed.

  Today, he turned over in bed and tried to go back to sleep, squeezing his eyes closed against the tears that crept through anyway. A banging at his door prevented this, and eventually he got wearily out of bed and opened the door.

  “Morning, Sunshine. Get the kettle on,” Troy said, beaming as he cheekily pecked him on the face.

  “Urghf.” Cal blearily let him in and put the kettle on.

  “You look like shit.” Troy ran at the bed and jumped on it, then got in and wrapped the covers round himself.

  “Mm. That’s because some idiot got me out of bed at six A.M. What the fuck are you doing up so early?” Cal snarled.

  Troy sniggered at him. “Oh dear. Not a morning person then? You’ve got a fine pair of legs on you, though. Turn round, let’s see your arse.”

  Cal glared at him, but he couldn’t keep it up. He doubted anyone could be mad at Troy for long.

  “I always get up early; I’m on an early shift.” Troy pouted, snuggling into Cal’s bed.

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot you worked. What is it you do?” Cal handed Troy his tea, then perched on the end of the bed.

  “Petrol station. Cal? You really do look like shit. Are you crying?”

  The sigh came from nowhere, and everywhere. Jesus. If even a kid like that could see through him, what a state he must be. He looked away self-consciously, running his hands through his hair. “’Course not. You just caught me at an off moment,
that’s all.” It didn’t even sound convincing to him; his bloody voice wobbled. Why the fuck didn’t this kid just leave him alone?

  Troy slid right up next to him and put his head on Cal’s shoulder. “Cal? What’s up? I know there’s something bad, ’cause I can always tell. You have this look sometimes.” Thin arms slipped around Cal, and held him.

  It was just a kid offering comfort, but who was he to take comfort? He didn’t deserve anyone’s sympathy ever again, but it was so long since anyone had touched him. He was a murdering bastard who shouldn’t be here. But… Troy was warm, and solid. It was just a hug from a bony boy, and for a minute, Cal could not let go. He forced the lump back down his throat and couldn’t resist nuzzling the soft hair against his face. “Yeah, it’s bad. But, I can’t tell you. I’m okay now. See?” He stood up quickly, before he revealed anything else, slipping on jeans briskly.

  “Oh, okay. You don’t wanna talk. Fine. You know I’m gonna get it out of you, though? You can’t say ‘Yeah it’s bad’, and expect me to just leave it there, but I’ve got social skills. I know when to change a subject— watch this.”

  Troy arranged his wild hair in the mirror, blew himself a kiss, and ran his tongue over his teeth. “You think I’d look good red? I’ve never been red.”

  “Very impressive.” Cal laughed.

  “Okay, I’m off, cowboy. I’ll be back around twelve. You’ve got Probation then, I’ll walk you there. See you,” Troy sang, and bounced off. He stopped, just as he was opening the door, and glanced back. “Cal? You know I’m messing? You gonna be okay?”

  Cal laughed at that, and nodded, embarrassed. “Yeah, I think I’ll get by. See you later.”

  The room felt cold and empty the minute Troy left, but he fought the temptation to get back into bed.

  ****

  It was at least four hours until Troy came back and they left for Probation. The time stretched out and something like panic took hold. The last few days, he felt increasingly like a volcano waiting to erupt.