Page 12 of Forever Ink

Doc winked. “I would pay to see that.”

I stole a cake from his plate and popped it in my mouth. “Get your own man to tie you up. Then you won’t have to pay for anything.”

“I’m afraid I’m getting a bit long in the tooth to find my dream daddy dom. I’ll just have to live vicariously through you,” Doc answered softly. I hated the thought of Doc not having the happiness he deserved, but I couldn’t fix everyone, or so Simon kept telling me.

I happened to think he was wrong, but right now I wasn’t sure how to find Doc what he needed, and I was pretty sure he’d give me a stern lecture if I tried.

* * *

Doc and I left the teashop and headed back to the square. Most of the stalls had shut down over the winter period, opting for the weekly set up at the town hall where it was warmer and less prone to the sudden rain squalls that seemed to be common for this time of year.

We hugged before we parted. I think he was finally getting used to my hug attacks. At least, he no longer had the deer–caught–in–headlights look when I did it.

“I’ll see you Saturday, Rhys.” With a jaunty wave, he was off up the hill while I turned to head down towards the beach. The cobbles were slippery, so I took my time walking, not wanting a tumble on the street. I could have gone the longer way following the main road down, but I liked taking this route as it wove between the old, thatched houses and quirky shops.

At the foot of the hill the street ran along the shorefront, the pier jutting out into the dark grey waters to the right and the tattoo shop to my left. I looked up to our flat above the shop. The doors to the small balcony were closed like I knew they would be. It was too cold now to have them open. I loved our home, but I had to agree with Simon, it was starting to feel a bit on the cramped side—but it was where Simon was, so it had a special place in my heart.

I didn’t feel like heading back to the flat yet, so I turned right and crossed the street, heading out along the pier. The gulls were being their usual noisy selves, cawing and carrying on as I walked out further, the pier leaving the sandy small beach and jutting out into the surf. I walked in the middle of the pier. I still got an unpleasant feeling if I walked too close to the edge, the crashing surf bringing up memories of the night my father tried to kill me. Simon would probably go all concerned growly daddy if he saw me out here, but I had been pushing myself a little further each time I walked out here. The pier didn’t scare me, the water did—but I wanted to challenge that fear. I’d promised myself that next summer I was going to learn to swim, and Simon had helped me enrol for a class for older learners so I wouldn’t feel like a duck out of water, surrounded by a group of kids all backstroking while I could barely doggy paddle.

I looked over my shoulder and saw I’d walked past the breakers. This was the furthest I’d gotten so far before I panicked and made Simon walk me back. Today, I felt braver. Perhaps it was thinking about how I needed to stand up to Susan if—when—I saw her, or maybe it was the thoughts of those past pirates Doc had spoken about, but I wanted to make it to the end of the pier. The white benches and the small rotunda at the end looked so far away. If I made it, I would reward myself with a bag of hot donuts, and Daddy could keep his opinions about that to himself, I thought stubbornly.

I walked out further, shifting between sneaking daring glances at the water and looking down at my feet. The wind was getting stronger the further out I got. There were a few people out on the pier but for the most part it was quiet, the day too blustery and cold to walk the pier or beach.

Only a few more feet and I would be at the end. I didn’t know where this bravery was coming from. I made it the last few feet and collapsed onto the bench. The small gazebo structure didn’t give much protection from the wind, but it was more than I’d had walking on the pier. I probably should have stopped and grabbed my heavier jacket, but it was too late now, besides I didn’t plan on staying out here long. I felt a rush of success at having made it the whole way to the end of the pier, but now I needed to move a little bit more.

The white painted railing on the edge of the pier was my destination but right now it seemed like a million miles away.

Okay, I told myself. I was going to do this. And maybe if I didn’t look directly at the water in front of me and kind of snuck up on it, I could do this. I’d never been afraid of water or the ocean in my memory—or I hadn’t been—but since Dad’s attack, I’d found myself close to panic anytime I looked at the beach, especially when the water was rough.

That was a problem, considering where I had chosen to call home. I hated that a sight I used to love when I looked out of our bedroom window now caused my stomach to clench and my head to spin.

But then, it wasn’t the sea’s fault my father was a homicidal homophobic wanker.

Maybe it was anger at him that had my feet moving, but before I could register what I was doing I’d moved from the bench towards the guard rail at the end of the pier. Each step I took felt like my feet were stuck in mud, but before I knew it, I was standing at the end of the pier. I gripped the guard rails, the weather-worn wood rough under my palms. I could hear the gulls cawing overhead and the slosh of the water hitting the legs of the pier below me. I lifted my eyes and looked out on the bay. The fear was there, churning in my guts, but I tried to breathe past it and take in the beauty of Tewsbury Bay. A pair of seals wrestled and tussled on some rocks not far from where I stood, their quarrel ending with the larger of the two being pushed into the sea. That startled a laugh out of me. Looking at the water, I tried to see past the cold, choking feeling it immediately brought up in me. It flowed around the legs of the pier, home to fishes and seals, and I was suddenly struck by a thought.

“The sea didn’t hate me,” I said softly to myself. “My father did.”

Chapter 7

SIMON

Whose bloody stupid idea was this? I held the bike chain up to make sure I’d cleaned away the old grease and rust spots. The bike lay in bits around me. I was going to need to get new tires for it, and I might even see if I could find a basket for the bike. Even though the bike had been stored in the shed out of the weather, it still needed a lot of work to make it safe and roadworthy for Rhys. It was going to end up taking more than an afternoon to get ready but at least I’d gotten a start on it.

Working out in the small shed didn’t give me much room to move around, and sitting on the old, upturned milk crate was not comfortable, but I would work with what I had for the time being. I couldn’t help but think of Tulip Cottage and Dorathea. I hoped Rhys would love the place as much as I did, and I couldn’t wait to take him for a walk through the place.

Grabbing a rag, I tried my best to get the grease off my hands. I was going to need to use the nail brush when I got back inside. Looking around, I realised I couldn’t do much more until I went to the bike shop. I could do that tomorrow, but I’d have to leave reassembling it for once we got back from Dad’s. Besides, the weather was turning pretty crap for riding a push bike now.

My phone went off, playing the Doctor Who theme. Doc would fucking kill me if he knew I had that song set for him.

“Hey, Doc. You and Rhys finish your tea party?”

“Yeah, about half an hour ago. One day we’ll manage to convince you to join us,” Doc laughed.

“Not unless they make me-sized sandwiches. Rhys still with you?”

“No, he headed back down the street towards the shop. He’s probably gotten sidetracked, or if I know our Rhys, gone hunting donuts?”

“That’s true. He was in a bit of a lather when he found out they close down for a few weeks over Christmas so he’s probably there, but he could have come home and I’ve not noticed. I’ve been out in the back shed trying to fix my old push bike for him, so he probably doesn’t even realise I’m out here.”

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