The Stars Over Bittergate Bay

Chapter 15

15

J onas woke to knocking on the front door of the cottage. Groggy, he sat for a long moment, trying to get his bearings. The whole of the night before felt like a wonderful dream, and he wondered if maybe part of it had been. The cove hadn’t really happened like that, had it? The knocking stopped and then started again, harder. Jonas pulled back the blankets at the same moment that Delilah appeared.

“Father Michaels is here with Mrs. Byrne. She’s in a right state.” That didn’t answer as many questions as it raised, but it was enough to be getting on with.

“D’you mind telling them I’ll be down in a moment?” Jonas asked. Delilah nodded and vanished. The fact that she didn’t give him any grief for asking her to relay messages meant that Mrs. Byrne really was in a state. Jonas dressed more quickly than usual and only just remembered to pull up his glamour before he opened his bedroom door.

It was a good thing he had. Sidney opened the door to the guest room across the landing at the exact same moment. They both paused, Sidney squinting, half-asleep. Jonas tried not to stare at the purple smudge of a love bite visible just above the collar of Sidney’s threadbare sweatshirt.

“I heard knocking?” Sidney scratched at the back of his neck. Jonas thought about biting it again. No. Focus, Jonas.

“It’s Father Michaels and one of his congregants. Go back to bed.”

“Were you expecting them?”

“No.” Jonas was never expecting visitors, but it took him until Sidney asked to fully grasp how odd it was that they were here. Sidney seemed to sense this. He gave Jonas a small smile.

“I’ll get dressed and start the coffee.”

An unfamiliar warmth blossomed in Jonas’s chest as he walked down the stairs. There was something comforting about not having to handle whatever this was by himself. Not that he thought it was anything that he would need assistance with; if it was truly dire straits no one would be coming to him for help. Not anymore. But it was still nice.

Mrs. Byrne was an older woman, short and in her late sixties if he had to guess. She had greying dark brown hair, a ruddy face and was turning a dog leash and collar over and over in trembling hands. Jonas remembered then that she was usually seen with some kind of little yellow wire-haired terrier, who did not appear to be present.

“Oh, Mr. Rookwood! I’m ever so sorry to trouble you.” Her eyes were red, and Father Michaels had a comforting hand on her shoulder, his mouth folded into a frown.

“It’s no trouble at all. What can I do for you?”

As it so happened, the little dog that Jonas remembered was named Ginger, and as Mrs. Byrne had been walking her along the cliffside by the church that morning, Ginger had pulled out of her collar to chase a chipmunk and had subsequently disappeared.

“I was near the chapel when it happened, so I went to Father Michaels at once. I’m alright on flat terrain but my knees can’t take the underbrush, and I know how the cliffside can be.” Mrs. Byrne gave a watery smile to Sidney as he deposited a cup of coffee at her elbow.

“I went down the trail toward the slope,” Father Michaels pulled his coffee closer, looking sternly at Jonas. “There were pawprints on the path to the caves.”

“Well, there’s not many places she could have got to from there,” Jonas said. “It’s a dead end. She must have come back up.” Sidney delivered Jonas’s coffee cup and set the rest of the spice loaf from the day before in the center of the table.

“That’s the worry,” Father Michaels said. “I went all the way down to the cave entrance and the bottom boards have fallen away. It’s open enough. I’m afraid she might have gone in.” Shit. Jonas sighed and sat back in his chair, as Mrs. Byrne began again.

“I told the Father that I could go in, and I’d happily?—”

“No, Mrs. Byrne,” Jonas interrupted with a shake of his head. “That’s not a good idea.”

“I didn’t realize that was all your property,” she continued on. Sidney slid a hand across Jonas’s shoulder blades, and Jonas glanced up at him. His brow was furrowed, lips pursed slightly, an unasked question clear on his face. Can we help?

Jonas didn’t like the idea of anyone else going into the caves. And he wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of going by himself more or less.

“Sidney and I will go in and have a look around,” he announced before he could second guess himself. “Give me a few minutes to collect some things.”

“You should stay here and help yourself to more coffee and cake.” Sidney leaned across the table and pushed the cake tin toward Mrs. Byrne, as Jonas stood. “We’ll find Ginger in a heartbeat, I’m sure.”

“I’m going out to the garden shed, Sidney,” Jonas said, already making a mental list of the things they’d need. “If you have boots, wear them, and there should be a spare canvas coat in the foyer closet.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Rookwood!” Mrs. Byrne was on her feet, eyes filling with tears again. Father Michaels ushered her back into her seat as she handed Sidney the collar and leash with praise so effusive that Jonas left the room with an uncomfortable flush on the back of his neck.

“What are the caves?”

Sidney found Jonas in the garden shed, a coil of rope threaded over one arm. Two lanterns sat on the workbench alongside a prybar, an impressively long hunting knife, and a shoulder satchel, empty and flat. Jonas was staring at the shelves, as though he was thinking he might take some gardening tools with him as well. Jonas turned, looking Sidney over with a critical eye.

“Are those the only boots you have?”

“I’ll be alright,” Sidney said. They were the only shoes he had and could only generously be called boots, but he wasn’t about to be left behind. “What are the caves?”

Jonas turned to the workbench, his face the flat mask that he always seemed to slide on when he was choosing his words carefully. Ever since Sidney had worked out that was what it was, not necessarily a lie but rather caution, he’d found he didn’t mind it so much. Sidney scooped up the satchel and one of the lanterns.

“I’ll explain on the way,” Jonas said finally. Sidney smiled and closed the distance between them, standing on tiptoe to press a kiss against Jonas’s stubbled jaw. He liked kissing Jonas; after last night, it was hard for him to resist the opportunity. Jonas’s hand flitted against Sidney’s wrist, thick calloused fingers against the sensitive skin, sending a shiver of delight up Sidney’s spine. When Jonas moved to gather their supplies, he had a small smile on his face.

The grey October drizzle was the sort that made everything feel damp and cold. Little droplets perched on leaves, spangling the red, gold and brown with water that refused to move or merge until Sidney or Jonas brushed against it as they made their way down the path. Mist collected on Sidney’s clothes and in his hair; it was doing as much as the coffee had to wake him up. Which was good, because Jonas chose then to begin talking.

“Some years ago, a friend and I were testing a theory that required the cultivation of several different strains of mushrooms.”

“Alright,” Sidney said. Simple enough to follow. If he could tamp down his questions about the ‘friend’ everything would be just fine. It wasn’t any of his business. Jonas probably had lots of friends to test theories with.

“The mycete we were working with had very particular growing conditions, and the easiest way we could reproduce those conditions here was to use some of the limestone caves that exist along the cliffside.”

“Did it work?” Sidney asked. Jonas glanced over his shoulder at Sidney, a smirk passing across his face.

“That’s your question?”

“Well, it seemed like you were being intentionally vague about what your project was, so I thought it’d be best to skip to the end.” Jonas snorted and turned his attention back to the path, which was beginning to slope downward.

“Do you think you’re giving me too much leeway?” Jonas asked after a moment. Interesting. Sidney hadn’t expected to be called out on not asking questions.

Knowledge was power, perhaps, but the intimacy that was growing between him and Jonas wasn’t a muscle to be flexed for more information. He was trying to be respectful. He would take what information Jonas wanted to give.

“What’s the use in demanding answers? If you want to keep secrets, it’s no business of mine to pry,” Sidney said.

“You don’t want to know, though?”

“I never said that,” Sidney chuckled. “But I understand about not feeling like you can explain your work to people. I’ve never managed to have a casual conversation with anyone about astronomy.”

“You don’t say?” Jonas deadpanned. Sidney scoffed.

“What I mean is, it can be hard to backtrack. Explaining the nuances of a project, where it came from, what it means to you, those things are so much harder than just saying ‘it worked,’ or ‘it didn’t work.’ Of course, I want to know, but I don’t want to put you in the position of having to tell me what you were working on for the eight years before or whatever, unless you want to.”

Sidney didn’t really mean project . Or he did, but he also meant something else. He wanted to know about the people Jonas was with before, the life he’d had. But one tryst on the beach didn’t make Sidney entitled to any information about Jonas, no matter how much he wanted it.

The trees were beginning to thin, and Sidney could hear the waves crashing against the cliffs below, filling the silence as Jonas came to a stop. Sidney slowed, coming up alongside Jonas at the exact moment Jonas looked over at him.

“I’ve never met anyone like you.” The intensity in Jonas’s amber gaze made Sidney warm all over. Maybe it was the sound of the water or the way Sidney’s heart beat a little bit faster when Jonas looked at him, but all of a sudden, Sidney was faced with the realization that he’d never wanted to understand someone in the way he wanted to understand Jonas. He wanted everything and nothing all at once. And that was not a thought it was time to give voice to.

“You’re pretty remarkable yourself. I hope that’s alright for me to say.” Jonas shifted toward Sidney and then away, his eyes finally flicking up and out over the water, like a gust of wind had changed his heading at the last moment. Sidney bit his lip, held his tongue, and turned his attention back to the path.