Identity Check Chapter 20

Identity Check

Chapter 20

"It's a long story," Patrick said when he walked into the kitchen in the morning and Nick and Colin stared up at him from the table.

"No, it's a short one," Nick said, voice tight. "David beat you up. I'm going to smash his face in. The end."

Patrick stared. "How do you know?"

"Ray told us when we got in last night. Can you eat some toast do you think? Colin, make the man some toast."

"Ray was still here when you came home?" Patrick said, sitting down.

"Yeah," Colin said, getting up and putting bread in the toaster. "You have to go to the police. You can't let him get away with this."

"No, no police," Patrick said. Nick poured a cup of tea - for some reason he had out cups and saucers and not just mugs - and pushed it across to Patrick, who took a sip and winced at the hot liquid in his swollen mouth. He put the cup down to let the tea cool. "I just want to forget about it, and him. I messed up and I just want to put it behind me."

"You messed up?" Nick sounded outraged. "Bollocks to that!"

"Look, I was..." God, he couldn't explain, not to them. "I broke a promise. I knew it was wrong. I just never realised he would go so... crazy." He shuddered, that insane look in David's eye coming back to him.

"Nothing can justify it," Nick insisted.

"I know," Patrick said. He did. He believed that now. Last night he'd been too out of it to think straight, but this morning he felt the same outrage as Nick and Colin. How dare David treat him like this? Who the fuck did he think he was? But Patrick still just wanted to close the door on the whole thing and forget it. Never see David, or have to deal with him again. He groaned, holding his aching head. "I'm going to have to call in sick to work, I can't go in looking like this. How the hell do I explain this to them?"

"Beaten up by wanker boyfriend about covers it," Colin said, putting a plate of lightly done toast in front of Patrick.

"This isn't funny," Nick snapped.

"Who's being funny?" Colin reached for the butter, put it beside Patrick's plate and handed him a knife. "Why shouldn't he tell them what happened? It's not his fault. Ray said to stay off work at the Circle right through next week too," he added, sitting down again.

Yeah, Patrick didn't count as something pretty to attract the week night punters right now. He'd better call Ray later, to thank him for last night.

"Shit, I just remembered my phone's broken. David smashed it."

"Oh, that's it," Colin said. "That bastards going down!"

After the two students left on their bikes, Patrick called in sick to work, explaining to his manager, Gwen, that he'd been assaulted. When she assumed he'd been the victim of a homophobic hate-crime he didn't correct her.

He lay on the sofa wrapped in a blanket and felt sorry for himself for a while, even wept. But he only allowed that for a while. It was over. No more David. Move on. He'd made a mistake, and he had to put it behind him.

Before he left Nick had dug out an old phone he had, and Patrick found it on a counter in the kitchen when he went in there to make a cup of tea. He swapped out the SIM from his broken phone and was happy to see he got service and his numbers. A moment later his text messages and missed calls showed up.

"What the fuck?"

Twenty-seven text messages. Twenty-four of them from David. Eighteen missed calls, fifteen of them from David. All since last night.

"Didn't you notice you smashed my phone, you stupid prick," Patrick said out loud to the phone. He knew he should just delete them, but curiosity got the better of him and he opened a few of the texts. They were bizarre. One would be a grovelling apology, the next, obscene insults. After half a dozen, he gave up and erased them and the unread ones.

Not all of the calls and texts were from David. A missed call just half an hour ago was from Phil, followed by a text message a couple of minutes later.

R u ok? Call work #

Should he call Phil now and tell him? But he'd probably get angry and upset, and then have a horrible day at work. But if Gwen had already told him Patrick had been attacked then not calling him would just be cruel. He'd think the worse and worry about it all day. He dialled Phil's work number.

"Hey, it's me."

"Patrick!" Phil's voice went quieter after the exclamation. "What's going on? Gwen said you'd been attacked. Was it gay bashers?"

"No. Phil, don't yell or anything. It was David."

"What?"

"I said not to yell."

"Right, hang on." His voice dropped close to a whisper. "I'm going to call you back in five minutes on my mobile."

"Phil, you don't need to do that."

"I'm doing it. Speak soon."

Patrick sighed as he heard the dial tone. Calling Phil had been a bad idea. Now he'd would get in trouble for rushing off to talk on his mobile when he should be working. Taking the mug of tea he had ready now, Patrick went back to the living room and curled on the sofa again, the blanket around him. The phone chirped in his pocket and he checked the screen. A text. From David. Oh, fuck off. He erased that without reading it just before Phil's name appeared on the screen as the phone rang.

"Okay, tell me that again," Phil said, without preamble as soon as Patrick answered. "David attacked you?"

"He found out about Simon, about Easter. He went berserk and beat me up."

"That total bastard!" Phil hissed. His voice went on in a low intense tone. "I ought to kick his fucking head in!"

"You'll have to take your turn, Nick's first in the queue."

"Reinforcements are good," Phil muttered, darkly. "Are you okay? How hurt are you? Did you have to go to hospital?"

"No. Ray took care of me, brought me home." He remembered what he'd speculated about when Ray asked him about how David found out about Patrick's infidelity.

"Ray? Did this happen at the Circle then?"

"No. Never mind that. Phil..." He stopped, gulped a couple of times. How could he ask this? Phil wouldn't do such a thing. He shouldn't ask. He had to ask. "Phil, you're the only other person who knew about Simon..."

Patrick intended to go on, try and phrase a diplomatic question, but Phil spoke before he could continue. "Are you asking me if I told David?" His voice sounded stiff and defensive.

"You are the only other person who knew. I mean aside from Simon himself and I can't think of any reason he'd tell David."

"And what reason would I have to tell him, Patrick?" His voice took on a sarcastic edge. "What possible motive can you think that I'd have for doing that?"

"Phil, please. I don't think you did it, but I just want to hear you say it."

"What if I said I did?" The defensive tone came back into his voice.

"Look, I'd understand if you were... I don't know, drunk or something and did something silly. I know you don't like him much."

"No, I don't like him," Phil snapped. "But I did not tell him." Patrick heard him take a deep breath, and when he spoke again his voice had grown softer. "I'm sorry. It just... offended me that you'd think I'd do that, Pat. I don't like him, but you did and I wouldn't... I wouldn't do that to you." He paused and spoke again, still in that low voice. "Do you believe me?"

"Of course," Patrick said hastily. Did he? He couldn't work out how else David could have found out. But he trusted Phil and didn't want to believe that he was wrong to do so. Phil was a good friend and a righteous man. You only had to look at how he took care of his mother to see he was a man of honour and principle. He believed Phil. Ninety-nine percent sure on that.

"So... what happens now?" Phil asked, in a more normal, controlled voice. "Are you going to the police?"

"No. And please, don't give me a lecture about that, I've already had a couple of those. I just want to put it behind me. Do the police even care anyway?"

"I understand," Phil said. "Can't say I'd expect the police to do much. They don't go out of their way to help us."

Patrick sighed, relieved not to get another lecture. The phone made a chirping sound then and he glanced at the screen to see the battery icon flashing.

"Damn, I'd better go. David smashed my phone, so I'm using an old one of Nick's and it needs charging."

"Okay. I should get back to work before Gwen comes looking for me."

"I think I'll have to get a new number as well as a new phone. The mad fucker has already sent me a load of texts."

"Shit, what a nutter. Yeah, get a new number and cut the bastard off."

"I'll sort it out in a few days. Going to have to rest up for a while." He rubbed his aching ribs.

"Want me to come round and keep you company one evening?"

"I get the feeling Nick and Colin will be playing mother hen for the next few days. But feel free to come round one evening. Gotta warn you, I look like the elephant man."

"Yeah... well... I like that movie."

Patrick chuckled. "See you in a couple of days, then." He rang off.

There were two texts and a missed call from David. Morbid curiosity got the best of him and he opened the first text.

Busy, sweet thing? Whose cock r u sucking?

Patrick snarled with frustration, deleted that text and the other and even erased all the missed calls from the log. He silenced the phone, took it into the kitchen to plug it into its charger and went back to bed.

Phil did come around. That night. Patrick was in the kitchen with Colin at the time and Nick let Phil in and brought him through.

"Got a visitor, Pat," Nick said. Phil followed Nick into the room, and stopped, barely through the door. The colour drained from his face as he stared at Patrick.

"Oh my god." Phil whispered the words.

"I did warn you," Patrick said quietly, touching his swollen face, self-consciously. "You should have waited a couple of days."

"I... had to see... make sure you were okay." He shook his head. "Shit. You're not okay."

"He'll look a lot better when the swelling goes down," Nick said, in his best doctor voice. "Nothing's broken, no permanent damage and as long as he looks after those cuts properly, no scarring."

Phil's gaze flickered up and down the rest of Patrick, perhaps wondering what injuries his clothes concealed.

"You want a cup of tea, Phil?" Colin said, his voice much gentler than usual. Trainee bedside manner. "Sit down, man."

Phil just looked at him as if Colin had spoken in a foreign language, a dazed expression in his eyes, before he turned back to Patrick without answering Colin.

Was this guilt? Patrick wondered, seeing the depth of the horror in Phil's eyes. Why would he be so badly affected unless he thought he'd caused it to happen? No. It couldn't be guilt. Patrick was sure Phil hadn't told David. One hundred percent sure.

Ninety-nine percent.

"Phil?" Colin said again. "Have a cup of tea, mate. You'll feel better."

Phil looked at him, with some recognition this time and shook his head.

"No, I... sorry, I don't have time. Have to get back. I just had to check on Pat, had to see..." He looked at Patrick again and trailed off. "I have to go."

He spun around and almost ran from the kitchen. Patrick stared after him and Nick followed to see him out.

"What the hell was that about?" Colin said, looking at Patrick. He smiled. "Weak stomach?" They heard the front door close and Patrick glanced that way and then back to Colin.

"I... I suppose so. I do look horrible." Except that made no sense. Phil was hardly squeamish, after all he'd been through with his mother's illness.

But it couldn't be guilt either. Just shock.

Patrick's borrowed phone beeped with a text message and, of course, it was from David. He hadn't figured out how to block David's number yet; he just kept erasing the texts and rejecting the calls. Well David would soon get tired of calling and sending texts. A couple of days probably. He'd surely be tired of it after a couple of days.

Index