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luthier_balloonistOriginally posted here
Neither of them spoke until they had reached Kay’s rooms. Mrs Chambers had been in to build up the fire, so the sitting room was blessedly warm. Everything looked just as it had done earlier that day: shabby furniture; the bare places where Amador’s belongings had been; everything neat and tidy and in its place. Kay had imagined coming home after this concert and kissing Barir in front of the fire, slowly removing his clothing, kissing every inch of him. Now, confusion and anger burned in his gut and he had no idea what to do with it.
He set down his violin case, took off his coat, hat, scarf, and hung them in their customary place by the door, lingering unnecessarily over the motions. Barir tugged off his gloves, but otherwise did not move; in the quiet his breathing sounded rather unsteady. He was looking anywhere but at Kay, and Kay had no idea what he could be thinking. He crossed the room to light the lamps, his mind churning.
“I know you don’t want to talk about this,” Kay said eventually, giving up on tact. “But I rather think I’m owed an explanation. You know this man! Did you know it was Lowry? Or suspect?”
That made Barir look at him, at last. He looked unspeakably hurt. “No! How could you think that? After everything I— after all that we— Kay, I swear that I had no idea that your Mr Ashdown’s nephew was Marcus Lowry until tonight.” He appended this earnest statement with a phrase of quick Arabic, which Kay took to be the Muhammadan equivalent of, “as God be my witness”. Something in him eased.
“You didn’t know?”
“How could I? You never told me his name.”
Was that true? Kay could not remember. “He had never mentioned his aunt and uncle? Never pointed out their shop?”
“No!” Barir shook his head. “He never spoke of his family, really; I believe he was on bad terms with them. If I had known, if I had even suspected, I would have warned you. You cannot truly think that I would keep it from you? Do you think so little of me?” The hurt in his voice was worse than a blow, and suddenly Kay felt like a prize ass. “I knew Marcus Lowry, years ago, but I can promise you that I would never have run into a burning building to pull him to safety, nor would I have thrown over my family and left India in the hope of his affection. I thought you knew me better than that.”
There was a moment of terrible silence. The fire crackled softly; somebody upstairs laughed; the dog barked out in the yard. Kay’s anger turned to ash.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right, of course. I’m being foolish.” Barir did not move, still looking upset, his shoulders drawn forward as though trying to make himself seem smaller than he was. “It’s just so strange, after all these years, for him to try to make this trouble at the same time as you and I…”
Barir jerked his head up, frowning. “What are you saying? That this is because of me?”
“I didn’t say that.” Kay moved closer to Barir, unsure if any touch would be welcome.
“It could well be, though.” Barir chewed on his lower lip, looking fixedly at a point near Kay’s left knee, befort bursting out: “I never wanted you to have anything to do with him. He has been out of my life for years, and to learn that he has been the one…” He trailed off, blinking rapidly, and Kay realised to his horror that Barir was close to tears. He felt even more guilty then, for his formless and pointless anger. He had never known what to do with anger, except to bury it beneath busy hands and curt remarks until it inevitably burst free; Amador had usually taken it in his stride, and it was terrible to realise that he had such capacity to hurt Barir. Barir, who deserved better than Kay could ever be.
“Barir—” Kay reached out to grasp his shoulder, but Barir stepped back. Guilt cracked Kay’s heart.
“I shouldn’t be here,” Barir said quietly, almost to himself. “Yallah, what am I thinking? He may already suspect. He has seen us together, and if he followed…” He moved towards the door, suddenly frantic.
“What are you doing?” Kay exclaimed, feeling distinctly unmoored by the entire evening, by the strange moods that had overtaken both of them. He needed to repair this, to glue up the cracks and sand them back into smoothness.
“I have to leave.” Barir’s voice was higher pitched than usual, a nervous tremor in it, He was, Kay realised, frightened. “It was foolish to come here. If he guesses—”
“Guesses?” A cold dread settled in Kay’s stomach. “About us?”
“Certainly about us!” Barir exclaimed in a low voice. “He is already pressing you, suggesting terrible things about you. He could easily turn to blackmail.”
Kay blinked. “Would he? That seems an over-reaction. I certainly don’t like it, but most people would understand a white man contesting the will in this particular situation.” He spread his hands in a vague gesture at himself.
Barir made a strange sound, as though swallowing a laugh. “Oh, but he would. He is… vindictive.”
“But he has no proof! We are friends, nothing more, and he has no evidence to the contrary.” Unless Lowry knew somebody who had been present at the Silver Bell. But surely nobody would put their own reputation on the line in such a manner. “Barir. You and Lowry, were you… that is, did you…”
Barir looked wretched. “For two years,” he said. Kay’s mind threw up an image of handsome, cold-eyed Lowry backing Barir against a wall and kissing him. His heart lurched sideways. “I was a young fool, and he was rich, and handsome. What else can I say?” Barir gave a despairing sort of shrug. “But I must go, Kay. If he knew—”
“Don’t leave.” Kay caught his hand. His fingers were still cold. Barir didn’t pull away this time and stared up at him, his dark eyes huge in a pale face. “We came here in a cab, and he was busy talking and drinking when we left. How can he have followed us? You’re not thinking rationally.”
“I’m thinking perfectly rationally! You don’t know him, Kay, not really. I cannot give him something else to use against you.”
“You have given him nothing. What could he possibly say? That we left in a cab together, that you came to my rooms for a nightcap? The man is odious, certainly, but I don’t see that you need to fear him this way.”
“I am not afraid!” Barir exclaimed, more vehemently than was warranted. Kay blinked, taken aback by Barir’s fervour, and even more convinced that Barir was, in fact, afraid of Lowry. For a moment they looked at one another, and then Barir turned away, blinking quickly. In the firelight Kay could see how bright his eyes suddenly were.
“Barir.” Kay had no idea what to say, what reassurance he could possibly offer; he was not particularly adept at comfort. He ran his thumb over the ridge of Barir’s knuckles. “Barir. Don’t leave.”
“Why couldn’t he have stayed in America?” Barir said in a thick, furious voice. “He took himself off there – after helping himself to most of my money – and good riddance! I considered it a small price to pay, in the end, for having him thousands of miles away. What have I done, that I cannot be free of him?” This last came out in something that sounded dreadfully like a sob, and when Kay pulled Barir to him he moved willingly, at last.
“If I had known,” he said against Kay’s chest. “I would have told you. I swear to it. How could you think I would have lied?”
“I didn’t,” said Kay miserably. “I’m sorry, I truly am. I’ve been an ass. I often am, though it’s no excuse.”
Barir sighed. “I should tell you what happened. I had hoped to never speak about this again, but… come, let’s get it over with.”
Neither of them spoke until they had reached Kay’s rooms. Mrs Chambers had been in to build up the fire, so the sitting room was blessedly warm. Everything looked just as it had done earlier that day: shabby furniture; the bare places where Amador’s belongings had been; everything neat and tidy and in its place. Kay had imagined coming home after this concert and kissing Barir in front of the fire, slowly removing his clothing, kissing every inch of him. Now, confusion and anger burned in his gut and he had no idea what to do with it.
He set down his violin case, took off his coat, hat, scarf, and hung them in their customary place by the door, lingering unnecessarily over the motions. Barir tugged off his gloves, but otherwise did not move; in the quiet his breathing sounded rather unsteady. He was looking anywhere but at Kay, and Kay had no idea what he could be thinking. He crossed the room to light the lamps, his mind churning.
“I know you don’t want to talk about this,” Kay said eventually, giving up on tact. “But I rather think I’m owed an explanation. You know this man! Did you know it was Lowry? Or suspect?”
That made Barir look at him, at last. He looked unspeakably hurt. “No! How could you think that? After everything I— after all that we— Kay, I swear that I had no idea that your Mr Ashdown’s nephew was Marcus Lowry until tonight.” He appended this earnest statement with a phrase of quick Arabic, which Kay took to be the Muhammadan equivalent of, “as God be my witness”. Something in him eased.
“You didn’t know?”
“How could I? You never told me his name.”
Was that true? Kay could not remember. “He had never mentioned his aunt and uncle? Never pointed out their shop?”
“No!” Barir shook his head. “He never spoke of his family, really; I believe he was on bad terms with them. If I had known, if I had even suspected, I would have warned you. You cannot truly think that I would keep it from you? Do you think so little of me?” The hurt in his voice was worse than a blow, and suddenly Kay felt like a prize ass. “I knew Marcus Lowry, years ago, but I can promise you that I would never have run into a burning building to pull him to safety, nor would I have thrown over my family and left India in the hope of his affection. I thought you knew me better than that.”
There was a moment of terrible silence. The fire crackled softly; somebody upstairs laughed; the dog barked out in the yard. Kay’s anger turned to ash.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right, of course. I’m being foolish.” Barir did not move, still looking upset, his shoulders drawn forward as though trying to make himself seem smaller than he was. “It’s just so strange, after all these years, for him to try to make this trouble at the same time as you and I…”
Barir jerked his head up, frowning. “What are you saying? That this is because of me?”
“I didn’t say that.” Kay moved closer to Barir, unsure if any touch would be welcome.
“It could well be, though.” Barir chewed on his lower lip, looking fixedly at a point near Kay’s left knee, befort bursting out: “I never wanted you to have anything to do with him. He has been out of my life for years, and to learn that he has been the one…” He trailed off, blinking rapidly, and Kay realised to his horror that Barir was close to tears. He felt even more guilty then, for his formless and pointless anger. He had never known what to do with anger, except to bury it beneath busy hands and curt remarks until it inevitably burst free; Amador had usually taken it in his stride, and it was terrible to realise that he had such capacity to hurt Barir. Barir, who deserved better than Kay could ever be.
“Barir—” Kay reached out to grasp his shoulder, but Barir stepped back. Guilt cracked Kay’s heart.
“I shouldn’t be here,” Barir said quietly, almost to himself. “Yallah, what am I thinking? He may already suspect. He has seen us together, and if he followed…” He moved towards the door, suddenly frantic.
“What are you doing?” Kay exclaimed, feeling distinctly unmoored by the entire evening, by the strange moods that had overtaken both of them. He needed to repair this, to glue up the cracks and sand them back into smoothness.
“I have to leave.” Barir’s voice was higher pitched than usual, a nervous tremor in it, He was, Kay realised, frightened. “It was foolish to come here. If he guesses—”
“Guesses?” A cold dread settled in Kay’s stomach. “About us?”
“Certainly about us!” Barir exclaimed in a low voice. “He is already pressing you, suggesting terrible things about you. He could easily turn to blackmail.”
Kay blinked. “Would he? That seems an over-reaction. I certainly don’t like it, but most people would understand a white man contesting the will in this particular situation.” He spread his hands in a vague gesture at himself.
Barir made a strange sound, as though swallowing a laugh. “Oh, but he would. He is… vindictive.”
“But he has no proof! We are friends, nothing more, and he has no evidence to the contrary.” Unless Lowry knew somebody who had been present at the Silver Bell. But surely nobody would put their own reputation on the line in such a manner. “Barir. You and Lowry, were you… that is, did you…”
Barir looked wretched. “For two years,” he said. Kay’s mind threw up an image of handsome, cold-eyed Lowry backing Barir against a wall and kissing him. His heart lurched sideways. “I was a young fool, and he was rich, and handsome. What else can I say?” Barir gave a despairing sort of shrug. “But I must go, Kay. If he knew—”
“Don’t leave.” Kay caught his hand. His fingers were still cold. Barir didn’t pull away this time and stared up at him, his dark eyes huge in a pale face. “We came here in a cab, and he was busy talking and drinking when we left. How can he have followed us? You’re not thinking rationally.”
“I’m thinking perfectly rationally! You don’t know him, Kay, not really. I cannot give him something else to use against you.”
“You have given him nothing. What could he possibly say? That we left in a cab together, that you came to my rooms for a nightcap? The man is odious, certainly, but I don’t see that you need to fear him this way.”
“I am not afraid!” Barir exclaimed, more vehemently than was warranted. Kay blinked, taken aback by Barir’s fervour, and even more convinced that Barir was, in fact, afraid of Lowry. For a moment they looked at one another, and then Barir turned away, blinking quickly. In the firelight Kay could see how bright his eyes suddenly were.
“Barir.” Kay had no idea what to say, what reassurance he could possibly offer; he was not particularly adept at comfort. He ran his thumb over the ridge of Barir’s knuckles. “Barir. Don’t leave.”
“Why couldn’t he have stayed in America?” Barir said in a thick, furious voice. “He took himself off there – after helping himself to most of my money – and good riddance! I considered it a small price to pay, in the end, for having him thousands of miles away. What have I done, that I cannot be free of him?” This last came out in something that sounded dreadfully like a sob, and when Kay pulled Barir to him he moved willingly, at last.
“If I had known,” he said against Kay’s chest. “I would have told you. I swear to it. How could you think I would have lied?”
“I didn’t,” said Kay miserably. “I’m sorry, I truly am. I’ve been an ass. I often am, though it’s no excuse.”
Barir sighed. “I should tell you what happened. I had hoped to never speak about this again, but… come, let’s get it over with.”
