Page 11 of The Gods of Chaos and Chance

‘Drugs? God, no. So much unethical exploitation of vulnerable people involved in those.’ He readjusted his glasses and added a little irrelevantly, ‘I used to be a vegan, too.’

Defeated, Aleksey leaned his head back against the cushion. ‘The moron says you eat a lot of meat these days.’

This apparently went entirely over the other man’s head and resulted in merely returning his thoughts to the proposed takeaway menus.

Aleksey sighed and told him again to order what he wanted.

He wondered idly what Ben was doing and thought about texting him.

Ben would then ask what he was up to, and he could replysitting by the fire in my cardigan and slippers. It’s how he felt, even if it wasn’t technically true.

Existential hardly covered it.

* * *

Regimental dinners, Aleksey decided the following day, were excellent things. Ben returned from London mid afternoon, pale bordering on green, in a foul temper, and wanting to do nothing but go to bed on his own and sleep the rest of the day away.

It quite perked Aleksey up. He felt almost chipper, and enjoyed taking Ben frequent cups of tea and waking him up to offer them.

He was waiting to put his new great idea to Ben, but needed him at least moderatelycompos mentisto appreciate it fully—and returned to his usual shade of skin tone.

He made an appearance later that evening.

Aleksey found him leaning into the open fridge, rummaging for food.

‘There’s leftover Chinese if you want it. How are you feeling?’

Ben, the little ray of sunshine in everyone’s life, Mr Smiley, was clearly off his game. Aleksey got a grunt in reply before Ben hefted out the milk carton and began to glug from it.

Aleksey glanced outside. It was a beautiful late May evening: cool but enticing. ‘I’m going to take the dogs out. Just to the chapel. Would you like to come?’

Ben shrugged, but returned the milk to the fridge, hunched his shoulders, and followed him out. The night air was redolent with scents from the fragrant shrubs the old codger so lovingly planted and tended. The grass had been freshly mown that day too. They were canopied by stars. Ben shook himself, breathed deeply and tucked his hand into the back of Aleksey’s waistband. Aleksey smiled privately and murmured, ‘I missed you.’

Ben snorted. ‘Let’s assume I missed you too. I don’t remember. I’m sorry.’

‘What for? You’re highly amusing when you’re drunk, and quiet when you are recovering. It’s a win-win situation for me, when you think about it.’

‘But I’m a hypocrite and I hate that. I made such a big deal about you not—’

‘Trust me, Ben, listening to you vomit all afternoon has given me a whole new appreciation for enforced sobriety. Did you enjoy it—the dinner?’

‘Not really. You weren’t there.’

Pleased at this carelessly thrown out reply, heartfelt and honest by its very simplicity, Aleksey stepped out into the churchyard from the intense darkness under the old oaks and chose a stone to perch on. Ben bent to straighten the pot of flowers which Molly regularly tended on little Aleksey Mikkelsen’s grave.

Neither of them was entirely convinced this was good for her psyche, being only three and presumably, therefore, unable to distinguish reality from fiction, but she seemed entirely sanguine at the difference theRidermade between this dead child and herpapa. And in this, Aleksey sometimes thought, she was more precocious in her understanding than anyone so young should be.

Ben then moved over to pick some weeds from Anne Device’s plot. Enid, previously so faithful in her care, could no longer tend to it.

Perfect segue. Who needed to be a genius at manipulation?

‘Enid is worried about Miles, I think. I went to see her yesterday, as you suggested.’

‘What’s he done now?’

‘More what he’s going to do. He’s taking part in some kind of school adventure camp in a couple of weeks’ time.’

Ben straightened. ‘Miles? Adventurous training?’ Highly amused by this repetition of his dubious reception of the news, but wanting to keep Ben on his nicely flowing script, Aleksey murmured, ‘Enid is quite right to be a little concerned, I suppose. Although she does know some of the fathers who plan to attend, they aren’t qualified. Or very capable probably.’

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