Old-Fashioned, or Another Story With Ghosts

Chapter 14. Past encounters present and punches are exchanged

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The taxi was crawling among the moors under the rain. The rain was getting heavy, and the passenger with excessively waxed bleached hair was getting nervous. He kept moving side to side on the back seat, texting or scrolling on his phone with the cracked screen,  taking it in and out from the bag, or simply jerking his nails. The driver was glancing at him but never said a word. 

The passenger finally grinned. "Hey, grandpa. Saving the speech for the pub, eh? Good, you're at work now, huh? Good old England!" His cockney accent sold him out completely. The driver looked away, obviously adding a lot of details to the speech. 

They both felt relieved when the taxi stopped in front of the gate with J and B entangled in the ironwork. 

"We're arrived. Blacke's Garden."

"For fuck's sake, it's showering here! How'm I supposed to walk inside? Call them to let us in, eh?!"

"It's private land, sir. Are you out or returning back to the station?"

"Damn morons...fuck, for Christ sake..." The blond guy dragged himself out of the car continuing cursing and leaving the worst possible rate for the ride in the app. Looked around, banged in the gate - but the building, if any, wasn't even seen from the road. "Fucking Scottish fucker, fuck you..." He hid under the fence trying to call somebody but getting no answer. Cursed again, pushed the phone into the jeans pocket, and jumped up hanging on the gate door pulling himself over it easily, and landing on the other side. His very limited collection sneakers half-drowned into the muddy soil. It did not improve the intruder's mood.   "Fine, you bitch... you brought it to yourself."

Greg's smartphone screen switched off again leaving fifteen calls and twice more messages unanswered. Greg himself was in the library busy with the art albums James showed him after lunch. 

James, in his turn, was busy with the Royal Ballet School documents in the study, when he heard the shouting  downstairs. To be more exact, Wilkins' calm and cold voice and the unpleasant shouting of the unknown one. James raised the brow, closed the laptop and went out to face the music, as they say in America.

He was at the stairs walking down when the wet young man at the porch noticed him and pointed the rather angry finger. "You, old fart! Where is that slut?!"

He was probably drunk, but James sighed foreseeing more shouting. He did not like shouting people. It was a good thing library windows were to the other side, so Gregory would probably not hear the scandal. If James' guess was correct,  the visitor would be Gregory's ex boyfriend who he broke up with. He remembered  the young man was working in a pub. "Gentlemen. What seems to be the problem?"

Wilkins was scandalised. It could be seen in his posture. "Sir. The young man claims to know your guest. I'm sorry, I am dealing with the issue at the moment."

James felt the ghostly aroma of roses from the garden while crossing the hall towards the scene.

The visitor growled. "Let me talk to that fucking slut there. Or where he is."

"Very well." James nodded at Wilkins who raised his brow. "Would you please ask if Gregory would see Mister...?"

"Fuck you."

"Mister Fuckyou." James nodded politely.

"The fuck you're asking if he wants to see me! I'm his freaking boyfriend, for fuck's sake, he wants to see me, where is he?!" 

That was the moment the uninvited visitor got himself heated enough to push among both men inside the house stepping across the spacious hall. "For fuck..." He turned around glancing over the space, the stairs, the portrait and two footmen stepping out from the staff wing. Maybe, it was too much for him to comprehend, cause Donny - and Donny it was - laughed out. "Are you all crazy here?! Greg!! Come'ere, you damn bitch, do you hear me?!"

Wilkins pierced his lips together watching James closely. There was a lot in that gaze. "Shall I call the police, sir?"

Meanwhile, the visitor's shouting had some effect. Greg appeared from the library and froze the moment he recognised the shouter. His eyes got wider in disbelief. He glanced at James blankly and  walked towards the party, steps uncertain, as if he was moving in water.  "Donny. What... what are you doing here? I told I was busy..."

"Yeah, right, busy with what?! Staying a little longer for little extra? You forgot to ask me, then!" The bleached guy chuckled slightly snapping Greg's cheek. "I'm your boyfriend, and I'm not someone you could just ditch off, you know it, right?! Whatever that lord-how-the-hell-he-is thinks! Pack your stuff, we're getting back, now!"

Both footmen looked at each other, then at Wilkins. 

Greg felt the void inside his stomach swallowing him like a really huge black hole. Would be nice to faint now, the thought slid through his numbed mind. But he wouldn't, would he? He was not a Victorian lady, after all, or Charlotte. But Charlotte wasn't a lady as well, so she'd never faint. 

Donny was obviously in the middle of withdrawal. He was more adequate usually. Well, more-or-less adequate. He'd promised to stop using three month ago, when he ruined Greg's birthday showing up with the dot-sized pupils and the idea Greg was cheating on him with his boss in the coffeeshop. The lady boss. 

But it didn't matter any more. 

"You shouldn't have come." He was hearing his voice like somebody else's. Unfortunately, he was fully aware of who was witnessing them. "I'm not returning with you, Donny, you are on coke again. I'm breaking up with you. Please, leave now. This is not a good place."

Definitely not a good place.

Donny blinked. Then cursed and raised the hand, and Greg's nose exploded with sharp hot pain.

James was watching the scene closely by but even he was not able to predict the move. He has seen a lot of his drunk friends back when he was younger, but never anyone who was using drugs. Well, everything happens for the first time.

He stepped towards the Donny lad taking his shoulder and turning him away from Greg. Wilkins commanded to call the police. Unfortunately, Donny seemed to be lost  and tried to start a fight with James as well. Who was ready this time and hooked him first, exactly as he remembered from the university. It had been pretty long since he had been in a real fight, and was sure he won't be again, but life's made an unexpected turn already.

The situation, no matter how long it seemed, lasted but a few moments. Donny was half conscious on the floor, and James was helping Gregory to stand up from the floor. "Please, do not rush. We must check if your nose is broken." He turned at both uniformed young men busy sitting upon the kicking Donny person, and gasped in irritation. "For Heaven's sake, somebody bring the ice!"

Gregory hissed covering his face with both palms. "I'm all right..."

"You should lie down immediately."

"Shite, such a disgrace..."

"The situation is unpleasant." James agreed helping him through the door back into the library. "Well, you can't be responsible for other people's behaviour." James almost forced him to laying on the couch and took the ice from the maid's hands placing it carefully to the blooded nose. Gregory had Scottish long nose, a rather nice one. "I ask to call the ambulance."

"No, please, It's not broken!" Greg lifted the gaze for a moment and dropped it again trying to take the ice from James' hands. "Really. I-I can feel. A weak punch." His voice broke to the whisper. "He is not like that, he is just...it's complicated."

James sighed carefully lowering the young man's hands away from the ice bag to place it to another side of the nose. 

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