Page 72 of Sleep

“And before you carry on covering for him, I’m aware my son is as gay as they come. A mother knows these things, but he’s never been the kind of man to talk about his feelings. He bottles everything up. His hearing has been declining for years, and he refuses to acknowledge it. He has hearing aids that he refuses to wear. He says they make him look weak. Jonathan is soft-hearted, but he’s not weak. He’s strong and proud and intensely private, but when he loves someone, he does so with his entire being. His core staff understand that and are as protective of him as he is of them. So know this, Mabel. If you and Jonathan keep this up, you’re going to have to get past Jenny first, and if you hurt him, she will destroy you. Is that clear?”

“And you? Will you destroy me too?” I had to ask, and I wasn’t being flippant. I was genuinely scared.

“Believe me, you won’t even know what hit you.”

She was serious, and formidable, but her threat actually made me smile.

“Well then, Emilija,” I said, my smile becoming a grin. “I think you and I will become great friends, because Jonathan is my partner, and I love him. I’m not saying this is a done deal, or that there is any kind of happily ever after here, but I will try. I want to try. Because—”

“It would be beautiful,” she interrupted. “Almost as good as this Champagne. Now, tell me what’s in your glass. I’m intrigued if you can correctly identify this one. And don’t for a minute believe that I am finished testing you. I’m about to make your life hell, because I only want the best for my son.”

It may have sounded like another threat, but I could read something else on her face as she lifted her glass and gently clinked it against mine. Acceptance. Kindness. An agreement of sorts. There was lots to work on here, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I was incredibly hopeful as I took a sip from my glass and gently swirled the liquid around my mouth.

“English sparkling wine. Awful. I can’t believe you even attempted to trick me with that one.”

Mrs Emilija Templar laughed. And I laughed too.

25. Jonathan

Iwould have forgotten all about babysitting had Jenny not repeatedly reminded me throughout the day, so it was no surprise when she came crashing through the door, one child hanging from each arm.

“Left the pram in the car. Can’t be bothered.”

“It’s fine. My deathtrap of a home is all ready for you. I’ve left all the knives out, all the cleaning products are on the floor, and I will be letting them sample alcohol for supper.”

She laughed, having trained me herself for what was to come. Everything was out of the way. I’d even put up the travel cots I had stashed in the otherwise empty broom cupboard.

“No alcohol when on childcare duty, Jonny, and good job on finally showing Kopetski the door. If you hadn’t done it, I would have put in another grievance report.”

“HR weren’t amused. He’ll cause trouble.”

“What kind of trouble can that man possibly stir up? He’s bound by his NDAs and professional terms.”

“I told him I’m gay.”

“Well, if he didn’t already know that, then he’s even more intellectually challenged than I took him for,” Jenny said flatly.

“Have I always been that obvious?” I almost shrieked.

“Jonny, you have good taste, you’re handsome and incredibly charming, none of which automatically means you’re gay, but I’ve known you a very long time. But seriously, don’t give the kids hard liquor.”

“As if I would.” I smiled, catching one of the twins mid-flight as they jumped into my arms and slathered wet kisses on my cheek while almost strangling me with my tie.

“Jon-Jon,” they said, whichever one this was. Jenny had told me, time and time again how to tell them apart—something about sticky-out ears and birthmarks. The twins weren’t identical, but to me, they were a flurry of matching blonde curls and too-loud squeals. Still, I loved each of them as much as one could love any small child that was perpetually covered in snot.

“Be right back, have stuff to get from the car,” Jenny hollered as the door slammed behind her, leaving me with one child still intent on turning my tie into a noose, the other endeavouring to tear off my socks without lifting my feet off the floor.

Despite these two in no way calming my nerves, I liked their company—needed it after the day I’d had. I still felt queasy about the whole Kopetski business, but to be fair, this wasn’t the first time I’d had to tell him to control his language, treat our staff with respect, generally be a decent human being, and the list of complaints against him was mounting. I’d had his back for far too long, and I really couldn’t keep doing that.

“Ice cleam,” the twin by my foot said, getting up and tottering off towards the fridge.

“No ice cream today, baby. Mummy told us off last time, remember? No sugar before bedtime.”

Which was, of course, when Mabel made an appearance in the doorway, looking gorgeously confused. I didn’t blame them. Once again, I had failed in my communication skills, so used to Jenny covering all bases.

My relationship. My bases.

It felt surprisingly good to think those words. And I had this in hand.

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