Page 2 of Forever Ink

“You can pout, Simon Johannsen, but you need to eat healthy as well. It’s all well and good when you’re being a mother hen about my eating habits, yet you don’t take the same care with your own diet.” Rhys narrowed his eyes, daring me to argue with him.

“I’m your daddy, baby bear. It’s my job to worry about what you eat.” I ignored the eye roll Rhys gave me.

“Pure sophistry. We’re in this together, and you need to eat better.” Rhys had a determined gleam in his eye, one that said I would be eating sodding vegetarian lasagne, and I would damn well like it.

I blew him a kiss before I slid my helmet on, stopping further argument. I watched until I saw Rhys turn the corner to the stairs then kicked the bike over, the engine coming to life in a slow lazy rumble.

* * *

Just out of town, I turned down one of the small hedge-lined lanes that seemed to meander about the countryside. Ten minutes later, my destination came into view, and I pulled my bike up to a large overgrown yew hedge with a dainty white picket fence set amongst it. I’d just started pushing the squeaky gate open when an abrasive voice on the other side yelled out.

“This is private property! I’ll set the dogs on you if you don’t leave.”

Sighing, I brushed some of the overgrowth aside and called out, “Mrs Cowan, it’s me, Simon Johannsen. Magnus’s son. I called you yesterday.” I knew she didn’t have a dog to set on me, but I also knew she had an old hunting rifle that she was prone to pulling out at the slightest provocation. The woman had terrified most of the kids of Tewsbury for years. Stealing apples from her orchard was a rite of passage growing up, and I’d gotten hauled over the coals when the crafty old harridan had caught me.

I stuck my head around the hedge. Mrs Cowan was bent over, holding her cane like a duelling sword. “Oh, Carrot top! Why didn’t you say?”

“I did.” Pinching the bridge of my nose, I tried to focus on why I was here. This was for Rhys and I, and if suffering through Mrs Cowan was part of it, I would.

“I suppose you want to have a look at the place then?” She motioned me forward with her cane. I approached, keeping out of reach. I knew from experience just how hard she could whack you with the damn thing. “It’s run down, as you know. Nobody’s lived here since my Carl passed and I moved into town proper.” She pulled out a large key ring as we descended the wide paved path to the cottage proper.

One look at its white daub and dark wood trim, and I knew Rhys would fall in love with this place. The thick thatch roof was going to need to be redone—an expensive undertaking on my tight budget—but the upside was both Callum and I had spent summers with his uncle rethatching half the old cottages surrounding Tewsbury, so I was pretty sure I could call in some favours.

Rhys would adore the wrapped garden. It was a little overgrown, but my boy had the greenest fingers I’d ever seen. The flat had gone from one dying African Violet in the bathroom to a verdant jungle, with window boxes on the small balcony and herbs on the kitchen window. Somehow Rhys had brought a garden with him when he moved in.

This could be our patch of heaven, if I could get Mrs Cowan to agree to a price that wasn’t going to bankrupt me.

“The garden will need some tending to, and the roses will need to be cut back. But I don’t want them dug out, mind you. They used to win prizes.” Her wrinkled face was pulled into a frown as if she was second guessing selling the place.

“My Rhys has a dab hand with plants, Mrs Cowan. He would love this garden.”

“Young busker fellow, right? You’re serious about him, then?” She gave me a shrewd look. I knew some of the old timers still had opinions on openly gay relationships, but Tewsbury had always been different to other communities, more open and accepting—which wasn’t to say we didn’t have our share of bigots and homophobes.

“Yes, I am very serious about him,” I answered slowly, waiting for her response.

Mrs Cowan nodded. “Well, I suppose buying a home for the lad is serious, but if you really love the man you need to put a ring on his finger, let everyone know he’s yours. It’s what I did when I found my Carl. Wedded and bedded that man quick smart, though maybe not in that order.” She gave a rich cackle when she saw my face. “Scandalous I know, right? Thinking of wrinkled old prunes like me knocking knees and other body parts.” Her cackle only got louder.

Dear gods, what had I done to deserve this? “Think wedding bells are a bit early for us, but I see your point.”

“Good. Now come inside and see what’s what. There are things I suppose you’ll want to modernise.” She said modernise like it was curse word.

“Nothing too drastic, I promise. Things like updating the heating and electrics, but neither Rhys nor I are into the modern look,” I answered, seeing a slight smile on her face.

“The plumbing might need looking at, but you also have the old spring fed well out back that’s still flowing.” She went through her key ring and pulled out an old brass key that was probably the original.

The oak door stuck a little, but a bit of a shove and it opened. I stepped through the doorway—and misjudged the height of the lintel. Rubbing my forehead, I ducked and entered the room.

Mrs Cowan patted my arm, chuckling. “Don’t worry, Carrot top. The rest of the doors won’t attack you, and the back door is a normal height.”

“Did you bring me this way on purpose?” I wouldn’t put it past the old harridan. She had a twisted sense of humour—no wonder she and my dad got along like a house on fire.

“You’re not too big to have your mouth washed out, young man. I’d never do such a thing.” She puffed up to her full four feet eleven, but the grin spoiled the outraged act.

I shook my head and stepped further into the front sitting room. A stone fireplace stood against the furthest wall, and a large pot belly sat in its centre. The roof was low and crisscrossed with dark wooden beams, though not low enough to cause me permanent injury, thank fuck.

I could see us here spending cold nights cuddled up, or Rhys colouring in front of the fire dressed in one of the new onesies I’d ordered for him. The kitchen was long and narrow, but Callum had had his cottage kitchen remodelled not long ago, and I was sure I could find out who he went through. The more I looked around, the more I fell in love with the place. The more I saw this being our home, picturing Rhys and I living here, maybe even getting the puppy my Baby Bear had been not so subtly hinting about.

“So, what do you think?” Mrs Cowan stood leaning against the Aga, looking fondly about the room. “Had a lot of family dinners in this room, a lot of good memories.”

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