Arthur loved his family like nothing I had ever known. He worked night and day to keep them safe. He didn’t speak it plainly, but it was obvious in everything he did.
The outside world believed him evil—they couldn’t have been more wrong. However, Arthur did nothing to dissuade them of that belief. He claimed it was better that anyone outside his family thought that way.
He still didn’t speak much to me either.
He had never told me he loved me. Never even uttered one complimentary murmur my way. But the way he held me in bed, the way he took my hand, the way he kissed me and fucked me and tracked my every move wherever we went, showed me everything I needed to know.
But there were times when I would see frustration and anger on his face; his eyebrows would pull down and a haunted shadow would flicker over his handsome features. There were times when his moods were dark, so dark he practically pulsed with malice. He grew distant. Drank more. Smoked more. There were even times he left me alone, only to find me later that day and fuck me so hard that his grip branded my skin and I felt him inside me long after he had pulled out.
I hadn’t yet figured out the reason for these moods. But I trusted in us. I believed that one day he would tell me.
“Cheska,” Freddie greeted me, pulling me from my head. He handed me a gin and tonic; he was holding a martini.
“Arthur isn’t back yet?” I asked, just for something to say and to push the worry from my chest.
As I had got to know the Adley family, it was apparent that Freddie was the quietest, except for Arthur. He was always kind and approachable, but he was happiest sitting in in everyone’s company, only offering chatter every now and again or when he was asked a direct question. “Not yet.” Freddie sat down, and I sat in an armchair beside him. It was the first time since I’d arrived it had been only us two. “They should all be back soon. Eric and Vera went for Gene.” Freddie checked his watch, then his phone. I settled back against the chair as he typed out a text.
“So?” Freddie said, eyes assessing, as he put his phone down beside him. “How are you?” He smirked. “How are you finding life on the other side of the tracks?”
“Good,” I said, and meant it. “Believe it or not, I feel more at home in this converted church than I ever did in Chelsea.”
Freddie nodded. “I do know.” I knew Freddie had lived here for years. His dad had died quite a few years back. I didn’t know the details, but I knew he was practically Arthur’s brother.
“You’ve lived here a while,” I said, half statement, half question.
“Yeah,” Freddie said, staring down at his martini. “Arthur told you what happened with my old man?”
“Not really.”
Freddie smiled, and its warmth made me mirror it. He was clearly thinking of his father. He loved him. He hadn’t even spoken about him, yet his face told me this without words.
“He was a proper geezer,” Freddie said. “A talker, unlike me. A fucking hard grafter. And a loyal general by Alfie’s side.” He took a sip of his martini. “He was an adopted cockney. Born in South London, but moved to Bethnal Green when he was a teenager. Fell into working with Alfie when I was a kid. Alfie liked him. My dad got shit done, no questions, and Alfie respected that.”
“Sounds like a great man.”
Freddie met my eyes. “He was.”
“What happened?” I asked, hoping I hadn’t overstepped the mark.
“A deal gone wrong.” The warmth he’d been exuding faded to an Arctic chill. “There was a rat in the firm, one of the soldiers. Sold us out to a rival. There was a set-up, a deal that had been infiltrated. There was a shoot-out, and my old man was the one who paid the price.”
“I’m so sorry. How old were you?”
“Sixteen.”
“I’m sorry, Freddie.” I reached forward and squeezed his hand. He stared at the hand, then finished his drink when I pulled away.
“Moved in with Alfie that night. Been here ever since.”
“He’s like your dad too.”
Pain or something similar flashed in his eyes. “Yeah.”
“Arthur believes he’ll wake up,” I said, knowing that Freddie’s pain was born from Alfie’s coma. Arthur never once visited his dad in his room. He checked in with his personal nurse several times a day, but never visited him. Never spoke to him or held his hand.
“He has to,” Freddie said, gravel in his voice. “He has to wake up.” Freddie got up and went to the bar. My heart broke for him. To lose another father … My stomach turned. I knew what it was like to lose people you loved. It felt like a weight constantly on your back. It made you breathless when it became too much. Too heavy on some days to even move.
The padlocked emotions I kept caged away inside me rattled. I held my breath and pushed back the grief I had fought so hard not to feel. I wasn’t ready to unleash it. I saw Arthur watching me sometimes, closely, as if he was expecting me to break at any moment. But I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. After everything that happened to them all … I wasn’t sure I would ever recover if the iron of the cage doors holding those emotions back were ever to buckle and set them free.
I embraced the now-familiar numbness of evasion and breathed. Freddie was making another martini, I looked at him and swore I felt his weight too. I felt that maybe he too had a padlocked cage of his own.
“You lost your mum too?” I asked.
Freddie’s shoulders tensed, but he nodded and turned to me. He hesitated a second, then said, “I was only little when she died. It was just me and my old man until he went too. We were thick as thieves. He was my best mate. He was everything to me.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again. I had no idea how I could make such loss better. Pain like a dagger sliced through my heart. I was the same. I had lost everyone too. So had Arthur. This was why he and Freddie were so close. They had both taken tremendous losses.
They truly were brothers in every way but blood.
“Well, this is a fucking sad excuse for a party,” Charlie said from the doorway. Betsy was linking his arm, smiling at her brother’s quip. “Want to talk about how my mum dumped us as babies and ran off with her psychiatrist? Then we can really have a bloody ball.” Charlie rolled his eyes and walked further into the room. He leaned down and kissed me on the cheek, as did Betsy.
“We were waiting for you all to arrive, you prick,” Freddie said and winked at me.
“So you talk about death? Way to cast a dark cloud in the room.”
“That’s okay, Chuck,” Freddie said. “You brighten any room.”
“I know you’re just being a sarcastic twat, but I’m taking that compliment anyway.”
Charlie made himself a drink then sat down on the sofa beside Betsy. “So?” Charlie said to me. “How’s domestic life with my cousin?” There was a playful twinkle in his eyes.
“Good,” I said, hoping my recent worry over Arthur’s odd behaviour wasn’t obvious on my face.
“Good? Well, that’s a ringing endorsement for domestic coupledom.” Charlie smirked at me. He must have detected the worry in me after all, as he said, “There’s a lot going on at the moment. Business-wise. Attacks. All that fun stuff. Keeps old Artie busy.”