The Secrets We Keep by Jonathan Harvey

Author:Jonathan Harvey [Harvey, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pan Macmillan UK

Owen

From www.gay-mover.co.uk:

Coming Out Poster Boy Has Face Pummelled in Homophobic Attack

by Gerard Woolerton

A waiter from Manchester suffered damage to his face, teeth and arm in an assault which he claims was fuelled by homophobia. Manchester police say they are treating their investigation as a homophobic hate crime. Matthew Warburton, aged 22, from Bolton, partner of gay-mover journalist Owen Bioletti . . .

I can’t read any more. I click off the website and hear the post plopping through the letter box. I hate that our personal life has become cheap tabloid fodder. That because of my actions, my man has ended up on the very pages of the website I work for. Oh the irony.

Can’t live with him, can’t live without him? No. Wasn’t there to protect him, can’t stop him appearing online. Typical.

I instinctively go to play with my chain. I’ve never taken it off since Mum gave it to me years ago. Whenever I’m anxious I twiddle it round between my fingers till it gets too tight and constricts on my neck. It has D N O C engraved on it – each of our initials. But then I remember I’ve not been able to find it these last few days.

It’s not worth much and I could easily get a replacement, but it’s the sentimental value. Mum gave us each one. When Dad was still around. And now I can’t find mine anywhere.

At first I had a panic on, as I thought I’d lost it at Dylan’s. I didn’t particularly relish the prospect of calling him and asking him to look for it but when I did he was so sweet and concerned about Matty I realized I didn’t have to lay any ‘it’s over’ ground rules down. He looked in his car, the bedroom, the living room, everywhere I’d been, no joy. But then he said he couldn’t remember seeing it round my neck while we were . . . while we were in bed, so it sounds like I’d lost it already, before I went to his house. Not that that gives me much pleasure. The necklace is still gone.

I hear footsteps crunching the ceiling. The muffled strains of Matty on the phone, probably to his mum. Looking up at the Artex, the sounds are almost sinister. Like he’s gagged and groaning for help. Then I realize he is laughing. Then he really does groan. I know it hurts him to laugh at the moment.

Good job he’s living with me, then. I’m hardly a laugh a minute at the moment.

I check Cally’s Instagram. Another bleach-white beach, emerald sea, diamond sun.

At least something’s going right for someone in this family.

Mum’s been a bit distant lately. I wonder if it’s anything to do with this delivery guy she met. She’s not said anything since he asked her out, but my instinct is that she’s started seeing him and doesn’t know how to tell me. Personally I’d be thrilled if she started seeing someone; it would be the much-hoped-for sign that she’d moved on.

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