December 2017
Isle of Skye
"AAAAAAAOOOOOO."
"NYA! NYA!"
"MOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW? MOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW."
"NYA! NYA! NYA!"
"Jesus," Anthony said, feeling bad for the cats, who had mostly been quiet in their carriers on the long train ride from London to Skye, but now that they were in a rental car, they were really playing up their dislike of travel.
Nicholas was behind the wheel, Anthony was in the passenger's seat, and Sören was in the back of the Vauxhall, with the cat carriers. "Shhhhh, it's OK," Sören soothed. "It's OK babies, we're almost there and then you can come out." As if the cats understood him.
"NYA," Seumas yelled.
"I do hope they will calm down once they're let out of the carriers," Nicholas said. "I know we were told your aunt is a cat person, but I still don't want to make a bad first impression."
"Me either." Sören sighed.
Anthony wished he could climb over to the back seat and give Sören a hug. While he was happy that his mum had found someone and wouldn't be too lonely after his father's death, and it was an interesting coincidence that someone was Sören's aunt, and good Sören and his aunt Gitta were reuniting after all this time, he knew that the years of absence were a sore spot and not a wound that could be healed overnight. At least Sören knew now it wasn't Gitta abandoning him but was the meddling of that awful Katrín and Einar, but that just demonstrated an added layer of his guardians' cruelty, to keep him away from the woman who wanted to raise him, because of bigotry.
Anthony didn't want to think about Sören's guardians, or he'd get angry, so he made himself focus on the gorgeous landscape they were driving through. His breath caught at the craggy hills rising along the roadside - London was very flat, very urban, everyone packed in like sardines even in more landscaped areas, and here the land was still wild.
The bed-and-breakfast Gitta owned, started by her late partner, a Scot named Jane, was halfway between Portree and Dunvegan. When the GPS notified them they were there, Anthony let out a whistle at the property - he was sure his mum was as much in love with the villa as with Gitta herself. The eight-bedroom villa was single-story, a charcoal grey brick saltbox roof over white stone, in a lush garden with a grove of trees, and there was a lovely panoramic view of the surrounding countryside. The frost on the trees and the dusting of snow gave the property an enchanted feel. After Anthony climbed out of the car, he took a moment to lean on his cane and look around, taking it all in. His maternal ancestors had walked on this same ground, and eventually left this place for England. It seemed a pity they'd done so - he felt his hair standing on end, something quickening in him, welcoming him home.
His mum immediately rushed outside. Another woman walked out more slowly. Even without being introduced yet, Anthony knew it was Gitta - he could see the resemblance between Gitta and Sören, same curly black hair, same full lips, though Gitta's eyes were grey, not brown. Sören had one cat carrier in each hand - Nicholas took the third - and he paused as Gitta held out her arms. Anthony made a "give it" gesture and Sören handed him a cat carrier for his free hand, gave Nicholas a second cat, and rushed up to hug his aunt for the first time since he was five.
"Sjáðu þig. Þið eruð öll fullorðin núna." Gitta hugged him tight.
Sören rested on her shoulder for a minute - Anthony saw him tremble and knew Sören was starting to cry a little - and when he pulled back, Gitta took his face in her hands and smiled; she was starting to cry too. "It's been a long, long time," she said in English.
"Yeah." Sören snuffled, and wiped his face with his gloved hand. "I... I don't even know what to say."
"This is one of those experiences that defies words," Elaine said, taking the cat carriers from Nicholas, who went around to the trunk to get their bags. "Come on in, let's get you settled. We've got tea."
"NYA," Seumas yelled, as if to say hurry it up.
They were shown to their room, down at the farthest end of the villa, with the best view of the garden - their room was next to the back door where they could easily step out there. Anthony had no doubt that was intentional on his mum's part. Nicholas and Sören dropped off the bags, and Elaine put the cat carriers down on the floor. Anthony also put his down. Elaine stooped and opened up the cat carriers one at a time. Tobias came right out and up to Elaine for pettings, like he was thanking her. Miss Balls was more hesitant. For all that Seumas had been the loudest and most demanding about wanting out, he stayed in his carrier, eyes wide, like now he didn't want to come out.
"Oh come on, scaredycat," Anthony said. "It's OK."
"He'll figure it out. If he doesn't, we have bribes," Elaine said.
They followed Elaine back down to the greatroom. A fire was going in the brick fireplace - Anthony enjoyed the smell of woodsmoke - and the tea service was set up on the coffee table. They had come just in time for it to start snowing - through the picture windows, Anthony could see snowflakes lightly falling.
"Meals are served three times a day - nine AM, one PM, and seven PM. You can eat in the dining hall or in your own room if you want privacy, though it would be best to let me know in advance if you're taking your meal in your room so I don't set up a place for you at the table," Gitta said.
Anthony nodded.
"How many other guests are here right now?" Nicholas asked.
"Just one," Gitta said. "Most people visit Skye in the summer, and warmer places in the winter. As far as our guest... he's more a tenant, now. He's been staying here for the last couple of years, rather than renting a place in town, he pays a monthly rent instead of weekly or nightly fees."
Anthony found that curious. He wondered why someone would do that, rather than rent their own flat where they'd have a bit more privacy and control over the appearance of their surroundings. Anthony knew there could be any number of reasons for that, starting with Gitta seemed very nice, and he knew some landlords weren't so nice... but of course, the criminal defense barrister in him wondered if someone was trying to keep off the radar by not having their name on a lease. He sipped his tea, not wanting to be suspicious of someone he hadn't even met yet. Jesus Christ, this isn't a bloody novel where we're being snowed in with a criminal for the holidays.
Gitta went on, "He keeps to himself so you probably won't see him much, though... he does eat in the dining hall at least a couple times a week. And... he's entertained us, and the guests. He plays music, and he sings."
"He's very good," Elaine said. "I hope you'll get to hear him while you're staying with us."
"Since Christmas is coming, he'll probably do a set of Christmas songs like he did last year." Gitta smiled. "He did the Jólakötturinn song for me and his accent was perfect, like a native. I couldn't believe it."
"And he's not Icelandic?" Sören's eyebrows shot up.
"No." Gitta shook her head vehemently. "Not Icelandic, and not from another Nordic country as far as I can tell. English, I'm pretty sure."
"Shit." Sören sipped his tea. "That's impressive."
Seumas had finally come out, and tiptoed into the greatroom, sniffing around cautiously. He began to rub his face against the base of the grandfather clock by the picture window. There was a long silence as Seumas rubbed his face on the legs of the coffee table, then against the couches, before he hopped up on the couch where Sören, Anthony and Nicholas were sitting, to get spoiled with pettings. Seumas climbed up onto Anthony's shoulder and started purring loudly.
"He's adorable," Gitta said. "I hope they get along with my cats. They're sleeping somewhere..."
"I wanna see your kitties," Sören said. "What are their names?"
Gitta smiled. "Kirk and Spock."
Sören almost spat his tea. He put his teacup down and clapped with appreciative laughter. Anthony felt himself grinning like an idiot - already he liked Gitta very much.
"We bonded over a mutual love of Star Trek," Elaine explained. She made the Vulcan hand salute.
"I guess I come by it honestly," Sören said, looking Gitta in the eye.
A timer went off and Gitta jumped up from the couch. "Oh! Good! Wait here," she said.
Gitta ran out, and a couple of minutes later she came back with a tray carrying plates of brownies, fresh from the oven. "Your mum told me you love cake, Anthony, but I forgot to buy cake mix last time I went to the store so I hope this is acceptable."
"Very." Anthony was touched by the way Gitta wanted to make him feel at home. He took a plate from the tray and breathed in the chocolatey scent.
"Oh my, how thoughtful. Thank you, Gitta," Nicholas said, taking a plate.
"You're welcome." After Gitta gave Sören his brownie, she ruffled Sören's curls, and Sören gave a bashful grin that was so adorable Anthony couldn't help giving him a little kiss.
"There's more brownies in the kitchen if you'd like more. I made a huge batch," Gitta said, sitting down next to Elaine.
"You're not having one?" Anthony asked his mum, a little concerned.
"I had a big breakfast," Elaine said. "It'll be awhile before my stomach can handle more food."
Seumas climbed down from Anthony's shoulder, curious by what the people were eating, and made a "stink face" as he sniffed the brownie. Anthony gently pushed him away anyway, since chocolate wasn't good for cats. Seumas stalked off, like he was personally offended the people were eating "not food", and a minute later there was a cat screech down the hall, and a loud hiss.
"I see Seumas has met Kirk and Spock," Elaine said, facepalming.
"Are you sure it was OK to bring the cats?" Anthony narrowed his eyes. "I don't want to be held responsible if they get into so many fights stuff gets broken -"
"It's fine." Gitta waved her hand. "They'll get over it, or we'll find a way to keep them separated while you're here."
It was Monday the eighteenth; they were going to be here through January second. That was a long time to have to keep cats "quarantined" if they didn't get along.
Seumas came running back out, eyes wide. When Anthony finished his brownie, he held out his hands and Seumas came over and climbed back on his shoulder, headbutting him aggressively. "Prrp," Seumas said.
There was more hissing and "YOW YOW YOW YEEEEEEEEEOWWWWW", and the sound of something crashing, which suggested Tobias or Miss Balls had met Kirk and Spock as well. Anthony wanted to hide under the couch. "I'm sorry," Anthony said.
"It's all right. At least it's just the cats and not feuding with a guest." Gitta smirked as she sipped tea.
Just then, the door opened. There was the sound of boots in the foyer, and then, walking into the greatroom, was a man Anthony hadn't seen in eighteen years, but would recognize anywhere.
He was close to seven feet tall, raven-black hair to the middle of his back in soft waves. Piercing silver-grey eyes. A handsome chiseled face, thick eyebrows. He was wearing a black wool trenchcoat and had little snowflakes dusting his coat and sprinkled in his hair like diamonds. His eyes met Anthony's and his mouth opened, and Anthony knew he had recognized him too.
"Anthony?"
Anthony's jaw set. "Mark." This was just what he needed right now - bad enough the cats didn't get along, now this.
"You two... know each other?" Gitta looked shocked.
"Yes," Anthony said, trying to keep his tone neutral for the sake of politeness to his host, but there was ice and steel in that one word.
Elaine's eyes widened. Anthony had never mentioned the full name of the man who had sent him home from Cambridge in tears in 1999, but Anthony came by his eye for detail honestly, and he knew Elaine remembered the name Mark.
Anthony couldn't believe it. It was like seeing a ghost. Indeed, that was closer to the truth than just a figure of speech, since Mark looked exactly the same as he did the last time Anthony saw him in 1999. Mark had never given him an exact age when they were lovers - he'd said thirtyish, but nothing beyond that. If Mark was thirty in 1999, he'd be forty-eight now. If Mark was in his mid to late thirties, he'd be in his fifties. Mark hadn't aged at all, and didn't have any obvious signs of having work done.
Anthony was almost thirty-eight now, and looked closer to thirty than forty, he took care of himself, but he'd still grown into his face and body a bit since he was nineteen, most notably with a few barely-noticeable threads of silver in his short black hair. It was surreal Mark hadn't changed at all.
"Hello, Anthony." Mark cleared his throat. He walked over and put out a gloved hand - his right hand, where Anthony knew the glove was hiding a severe burn scar.
Anthony politely took Mark's hand, resisting the urge to break his fingers. He couldn't believe he was still feeling a flare of anger over something that had happened eighteen years ago, especially when those years had given him perspective on why someone like Mark might just run away. He didn't want to be angry, he didn't want to still feel like that hurt, lost boy he'd been, wondering why... and here he was.
Seumas climbed down from Anthony's shoulder, presumably to say hello to Mark... and turned around as if to let Mark scent him, then lowered his behind and pissed on Mark's coat sleeve, before he hopped down and ran off.
"Oh god." Anthony buried his face in his hands. "Oh god. Oh Jesus, cat..." He was mortified, even though he rather agreed with the sentiment.
When Anthony took his hands away from his face, Mark shook his head. "It's fine. The coat needs to be washed anyway."
"There's brownies in the kitchen, Mark," Gitta said, nonchalant, as if nothing extremely awkward had just happened; Anthony wondered what kind of weird shit Gitta had seen over the years to make her so unflappable. "They're still warm. I'd be happy to pick up the tab for dry-cleaning your coat, since I told them to bring their cats."
"There's no need, but I will accept a brownie. I'll take it to my room, though, I did a lot of walking and I want to write down a song that came to me while it's still fresh." Mark's eyes met Anthony's again and he attempted a smile that did not meet his eyes. "It's good to see you again, Anthony."
Fuck you, Mark. Anthony gave his fake courtroom smile in return.
A few minutes later Anthony went to the bathroom - a bathroom he would be sharing with Mark - to try to compose himself, splashing cold water on his face, taking some deep breaths. There was a knock on the bathroom door and Anthony barked, "Who is it?" hoping it wasn't Mark Fucking Lauer or he was going to scream.
"It's just me, elskan," came Sören's soft voice.
Anthony unlocked the bathroom door and opened it. Sören immediately shut the door behind them and pulled Anthony into his arms, held him tight. Anthony continued to breathe deep, fighting the surge of emotion. He wasn't going to cry over Mark.
Sören kept his voice down. "So... that's the Mark? Your first? The one who ghosted -"
"Yes," Anthony said.
Sören ran a nervous hand through his curls, rubbed his beard, and then leaned back against the sink, folding his arms, scowling. "Jæja. Just great."
"Yeah." Anthony sighed and looked down at his brogues. "I'm starring in bloody EastEnders or something." Then he facepalmed, knowing Sören was going to do his thing.
"Hi Starring In Bloody EastEnders Or Something -"
"I swear to god, Sören."
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