Page 75 of The Gods of Chaos and Chance

They nested that evening. It was the only word Aleksey could think of when he looked up from his book as Ben stretched out and threw another log on the fire. Ben had dragged all the old mattresses down; they added the blankets they’d bought, collected some food from the kitchen, and then they’d just sprawled, warming up, drying off, doing nothing very much. They had an intense awareness of being alone: that they did not have to worry about anyone disturbing them or needing anything from them. Watching Ben returning to his story, Aleksey realised that the physical passion they had always had was extremely rare between men, but this, possibly, was even less likely to be found. This was the cool, calm companionship of two people who did not need to do or say anything other than be with the other. Silence with Ben was not a tactic Aleksey employed to elicit compliance, it was something he could savour.

It was peace.

Ben was his anchor, his harbour. He chuckled: Ben was his safe space.

‘What?’

‘Nothing. I was just thinking.’

Ben snorted faintly but didn’t comment on this.

‘I think I will make a map of the island.’

That got Ben’s attention. He laid down his book. ‘We could mark all the things we’ve found.’

Aleksey turned on his side and propped his head on his hand, ‘Yes. And maybe pace it all out, put the scale on.’

Ben copied his position. ‘We could do a like forensic thing when police are searching. In a line. Make sure we find everything there is to.’

‘Small line, but yes. There’s lots we have not discovered yet.’

‘Yes, the generator.’

‘Ack. We have logs. Be less prosaic.’

‘If I knew what that meant, I would. We could give names to things.’

‘We have Guillemot House and Kittiwake Cottage already.’

Ben smirked. ‘PB’s Beach. I’ve never seen a dog claim a bit of dry land faster.’

‘I might call the low dunes between the two halves Ben’s Bottom.’

‘You are allowed, my lord. It’s all yours, one way or another…’

‘And Cathedral Cliffs—because of the shape of the arch.’

‘Aleksey’s Arch?’

‘Hah, I have an arch and a lake. You just have a bottom.’

‘And awaterfall. So, maybe, Seabird Stack?’

‘You are good at alliteration.’ He saw Ben’s puzzlement so only added, ‘It is a better name than Old Man of Hoy, which always seems rather sad given one of his legs fell off.’

Ben chuckled. ‘Squeezy claimed he climbed that once.’

Aleksey smiled and rolled onto his back, patting around blindly for his cigarettes. ‘Good, if we try our plan with Radulf and he gets stuck on the new stack the cretin can climb it and rescue him. I will then allow it to be named Squeezy’s Stack.’ When he had a cigarette successfully lit, he let his free hand fall loosely against Ben, just smoothing the back against Ben’s warm skin.

* * *

Chapter Forty-Six

He’d done too much again and the next day Aleksey woke in pain.

But rather than dwell on this, he saw that the day was dawning. Just as the west of the house had caught the setting sun on their arrival that first day, so the windows on the eastern side were now glowing pink. He carefully extricated himself from their burrow of blankets and dogs and went across to kneel on the window seat. The entire sky was turquoise and crimson streaks of clouds. As with the orange squirrels, it seemed unreal, impossible, and yet in another way wholly right for this place. He had never heard such intensely loud birdsong either, their dawn chorus almost insanely animated.

There was a light breeze whipping white horses onto the glistening surface of the sea and the edge lapped greedily onto PB’s Beach.

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