Return of the Sun - 4. Chapter 4

The time waiting for the passport seemed to pass quickly; when Friday night had rolled around Scott had learned that his cousin Darren was to be putting in an appearance. For Scott this was cheerful news; Aunt Christine's eldest boy was Scott's age, and although his mother generally regarded him as a black sheep, he was a good person. Scott had shared many a scraped knee from adventures with Darren when he was younger and it was good to see a face his own age for a change rather than the unending stream of adults.

Darren had shown up at the door with his hands in the pockets of a well-worn motorcycling jacket, his long greasy hair tied back out of his eyes and a grin on his face that was the first warm one Scott had received from one of his relatives.

"All right then, mate," he greeted with a nod as Scott answered the door. "Get yer coat, we're goin' for a pint."

Gran eyed her black-sheep grandson carefully, "You take care of him, mind," she said with her hands on her hips as if she knew all too well what Darren was all about, "and bring him back in one piece; I know what boys are like at your age."

Darren's face took on a look that reminded Scott of the blond-haired angel he had been when they had been children. "I'll look after him Nanny," he said in a voice filled with innocence. And Scott knew from experience that meant he was going to get into a whole heap of trouble.

Gran gave him a knowing look, and patted Scott on the shoulder, "Go have fun dear," she said, handing him a key.

Once they were walking to the curb, and to a large, battered, red monstrosity that Scott hoped to God wasn't Darren's car, his cousin grinned at him. "Whatcha doin' back here then?" he asked, opening the door to said monstrosity.

Scott shrugged on his jacket and piled into the passenger seat, "Right to the point huh?" Scott asked, as he struggled with a broken seatbelt that wouldn't pull free.

"Mum's all in a tiz about it," he said starting the car on his third turn of the key, "you know how she is; she likes to know everythin'."

"I'll tell you over a beer," Scott replied, giving up on the seat belt and holding onto the dashboard as the car rolled forward. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"Hellingly," Darren said. "Nice quiet pub up there and you're not likely to get yer head kicked in looking like a Yank."

"Great," Scott murmured darkly, "something to look forward to."

Darren chuckled at him as the car stalled, wheezed, then started again, "Well, have you looked in the mirror? You look like one of those guys from an American sitcom; talk about a walking stereotype, mate."

Scott glanced down at himself and shrugged, "It's all I got," he replied honestly. He liked what he was wearing, and felt a little offended about it being referred to so derogatorily as 'American'. He had chosen a particularly smart-looking navy-blue long-sleeved Henley tee shirt, over top a clean white regular T, and a pair of new Levi jeans. He felt he looked fine.

Darren shrugged as he wrestled the car into second gear; it protested loudly and Scott was sure the clutch was somewhere back on the road behind them. He craned his head to make sure. He was amazed when, after a few minutes, the car actually made it into the parking lot of the low ramshackle building that was supposedly a pub.

Darren hopped out, "Look mate, I didn't mean to insult ya back there."

Scott shrugged, "Look, I'm getting used to it..."

Darren stared at him with a concerned look in his eyes as he rested his elbows on the roof of his car. He was a good four inches taller than Scott who was a modest 5'8", and had at least thirty pounds on him. It was surprising considering Scott was actually a few months older than Darren.

Darren sighed, "Just want you to remember that some people don't like Yanks around these parts, and dressed like that, and given your size, you might get some trouble for it."

"You saying I'm short?" he said, folding his arms resolutely.

Darren grinned, "You'd have to grow an inch or two to be short." He led the way into the pub where he was greeted with a round of hello's and friendly nods. Darren was a regular, his face well-known; suddenly Scott really missed the pool hall 'The Broken Cue' that had been a second home to him. At least there he hadn't been given dismissive glances by tired old men cradling pints and trying to forget life for a while. Darren cheerfully waved Scott into a booth. Moments later he was back with two of Whitbread's finest lagers.

He lifted his glass, and in a near flawless impersonation of Inspector Morse said, "A pint Lewis!"

Scott lifted the glass, thankful to at last be back in a country that had a respectable drinking age of sixteen, not the ludicrous twenty-one. And he tilted the glass back, feeling the smooth-tasting lager slide down his throat and hit his system with a refreshing burst.

"Steady on," Darren said, looking shocked at how fast Scott downed the drink, "you'd think you hadn't had one in years."

Scott set the glass down on the table and breathed a relieved sigh, "You have no idea, bud. Thanks, I needed that."

Darren waved it off, "Don't worry about it mate, my pleasure. So are you going to tell me why you're here so I can get Mum off my back, or do I have to buy you another round?"

Scott licked his lips as he glanced at the pump, "Let me get this one," he said pulling out his wallet and thumbing through the bills.

"Bloody hell," Darren said pushing his hand down below the edge of the table, "Don't go flashing that round here, lest you give someone some ideas..."

Scott looked about in confusion; the bar was nearly empty, except for a few locals and some kids their own age playing the fruit machines in the saloon bar. He really didn't see the harm in thumbing through his wallet; it was only a hundred pounds...

Darren shook his head, "Shit, you are a Yank aren't you?" He stared in wonder at his cousin, "Anything left in there of that nippy little left-winger we loaned the States eight years ago?"

Scott grinned, "I'm still here, just picked up some bad habits that's all." He grinned and got up to buy the next round, nodding politely to the bartender who heard his accent and scowled, as if reluctant to give up his lager, too precious to be wasted you see...

He shook his head as he came and sat down at the table again, "I'm getting sick of this," he murmured, looking back at the bar. "Doesn't seem to matter to anyone who I am, just matters what I am."

"Ain't it always?" Darren responded, finishing his first pint and immediately swapping it for the second. "So you gonna tell me now?"

Scott chuckled, sprawling back into his seat, "Ok, well it's a classic story; I got to university and I worked hard, but..." he shrugged, "it just wasn't my thing. It was my dad's dream you know, not mine. And that got me thinking about a lot of things...and then I just decided I wanted to come home. And I did."

"Mum thinks you got some girl pregnant," Darren said in his usual forthright manner, "but then Mum thinks that about any lad our age." He laughed, "You should have seen her when I brought Emma home; it took me three months to get her to believe me that Emma was already pregnant when I started to date her."

"Bet she loved you for that," Scott said with a wink. He liked Darren; the roguish young man had grown up into someone who had a healthy respect for life. He was more realistic than some of the other members of the family, less idealistic and more...streetwise, if you could be that way in England.

"Oh, I got free of her the moment I was sixteen. I got out of school, into the garage and I've been happy ever since." He smiled, "My own flat, my own car, and no more nagging."

Scott could appreciate that, "I felt the same way when I left home, Dad was getting too much, so I decided to move into residence and he didn't like that." He squinted into his rapidly emptying glass to see if there was a hole at the bottom of it; there wasn't.

"You and Uncle John have a falling out?" Darren asked; seeming relaxed now that he was getting to know his cousin again.

Scott nodded, "He saw Doctor or Lawyer... I saw Grade A Loser, and so he disowned me. Actually its more like he's disappointed..."

"Yeah, Mum was like that when I didn't go to sixth form." He nodded to himself thoughtfully, "But I got apprenticed at my dad's old garage and its been great ever since. We're working on a banger for the Darlington track, you should stop by and take a look." There was an excitement in his eyes.

Scott grinned; it was the one thing his Uncle Ron and his Cousin Darren shared, a love for speed, especially in the local demolition derby. His father had always forbidden Ron from taking him, but he wasn't a little boy anymore...

"Yeah, I'd love that."

"You drive yet?" Darren asked slyly.

"I can," Scott said. "Some buddies took me to get my licence my first week in the residence... Dad said no, but I did it anyway."

"Oh you do have a rebellious streak in you." Darren looked like he had just discovered gold, "That's good, and you need a car. Come see me and I'll hook you up for a couple of hundred."

Scott winced, "I don't have it, bud."

Darren huffed, "You will eventually, right? So come, find one you like and I'll spot you till you get a job. Besides, Mum will go ape-shit."

Scott shrugged, "I'd like to, but I can't afford one right now. I need to get a job and get set up..."

"Scott!"

Both heads turned to the familiar female voice; Serena walked across the bar floor from the door and she bent down to give him a hug, which he returned in surprise. She stepped away from him, "Good to see you, didn't know you came here." She looked over at her friend, a rather mousey-looking girl with thick round glasses, "Mind if we join you after we get some drinks?"

"Sure." Scott said as he scooted over to the wall.

Serena nodded as she went to the bar to order and Darren shot him a shocked look, "How the hell do you know Serena Chapman?" It sounded a lot like an accusation, especially when he hissed it in a feeble attempt at a whisper.

"I used to go to school with her," Scott explained, trying to hurry before she got back. "We rode the same train down from Gatwick."

Darren cocked his head to get a better look of her in her tight jeans, "I underestimated you, Scotty."

Scott grinned into his glass, "Everyone does that."

They waited quietly as Serena and her friend joined them at the table. Scott was prepared to introduce Darren but the way Darren looked at Serena, and she back at him, they obviously knew each other. So instead he stuck a hand out to the mousey girl, "Hi, I'm Scott."

"Fleur," the mousey girl replied, blushing bright red as she shook his hand. Inwardly he rolled his eyes, knowing full well that he had another girl problem on his hands. The way she was looking at him, with instant adoration, made him want to shrivel up into a ball. Nothing makes a person more self-conscious about themselves than a girl so scared of you that you'd have to pry a conversation out of her with a crowbar.

He decided to play nice, warm and friendly, and let her come out of her shell on her own once she realized he wasn't interested. Maybe he'd get lucky and she'd notice Darren sitting next to her. He was cute; lanky with blond hair and a grin that made him... Scott realized that Darren was attractive. He just didn't bother with his appearance; he was too relaxed about it. Introduce him to soap, cut his hair and get him into something other than torn jeans and he would be a lady-killer.

"I like your shirt," Serena said, tracing her hand lightly down the line of buttons on his Henley, "Where'd you get it?"

"Wal-Mart," Scott replied honestly, "It was on sale so I grabbed a couple..."

Fleur's eyes suddenly looked past his shoulder, widening as her smile became more dreamy, and Scott wondered if it was something he had done, but he glanced over his shoulder to see the two young men who had walked in. He recognized Dickie from the grocery store immediately.

"Your boyfriend's here," Serena said, tensing slightly beside Scott, and he saw her quickly hide a look of distaste with her glass. She saw that he had seen it and gave him a look that said she would explain 'later'.

Fleur was already up from her bench and bounding over to throw her arms around Dickie, who swept her up into them and planted a soft kiss on her cheek before he set her down. The other young man, dark-haired and vaguely familiar to Scott just scowled as he stalked over to the bar, ordering a couple of pints of Guinness. The three of them joined the table.

"Griff," the dark-haired man said to Darren as he slid into the booth beside him. Darren tilted his head back in greeting, moving to let him in.

Dickie pulled up his own chair, capping the table, Fleur draped over his arm, and surveyed the troops like an old general. His intense grey eyes stopped when they recognized Scott and he leaned across the table to offer his hand again. "You were with Rita Walker in the Sainsbury's the other day."

Scott clasped the hand firmly, "Scott Walker; you're Jan's son, right?"

"We both are," Dickie said gesturing to the dark-haired young man who was staring at Scott with a dark look on his face, one that measured him, and from the sudden flash in them, found him wanting. "This is my brother, Luke."

Scott began to extend his hand but Luke ignored it as he stood up, "I'm gonna go set up the pool table; Griff, you game?" His voice was tight, like he just wanted to get away from the group; Scott had been around long enough to know when someone didn't want to belong.

Scott pulled his hand back; Luke wasn't even going to give him the time of day. So much for that then, he turned back to Dickie who had glanced at his brother in annoyance. Darren just shrugged and followed Luke to the pool table, hoping it was enough to show he didn't understand Luke's rudeness either.

"I'm sorry," Dickie said, compensating by sliding into the bench across from Scott, and affixing him with a pair or intense eyes that searched his soul. It was like being peeled back and exposed; they didn't blink, but stayed locked on his own, and Scott got the impression he was having his mind read.

Scott shrugged, "I'm getting used to it, trust me. Comes with the territory it seems..."

Dickie wagged his finger, not breaking his gaze, "I remember who you are now; you were the little dark-haired kid that used to go with your dad to the football club to watch them play."

Scott frowned, "Yeah, the club on the recreation ground; my dad used to take me there every Sunday afternoon..."

Dickie relaxed back, satisfied that he hadn't forgotten a face, "Yeah, my dad used to take me as well; Rita used to talk about her grandsons in the United States." His voice pronounced the words flawlessly, an edge of education behind them that said he knew what he was saying, and there was no denying the self-confidence the man projected; a sheer force of will, that let you know he was there, "Glad to finally put a face with the name."

Scott shrugged, "It's good to be here. I'm meeting a lot of," he glanced at Serena who was doing her best not to seem like she was inching ever closer to him, "old friends," he said, looking back.

Dickie chuckled as he looped a hand around Fleur's shoulders; she curled against him and sighed peacefully, like an addict getting a fix. From his angle, Scott could see the faint resemblance to a junkie. She had dark lines under her eyes, pale-ish skin and was entirely too thin, it was a cruel thought and he stuffed it deep down and promptly forgot it, embarrassed with himself for having it.

Dickie absently stroked her hair, as he looked over at Serena, "You're working in the stationary store down on the High Street this summer aren't you," he said flatly, as if he already knew the answer.

Serena bobbed her head, her curls rustling, "Yes, I'm off of university after the summer and my mom set me up with the job." She grinned, "Stocking shelves isn't glamorous but it gives me some play money. How about you, are you working this summer?"

His eyes met hers considering her before he spoke. Scott noticed he did this every time he spoke, as if he was deliberately careful about each word he chose. "I'm taking care of Jasper this summer; hopefully next year he will be old enough to join the Leisure Centre's play group."

Scott zoned out of the conversation, as Serena and Dickie talked about people and events he had no knowledge of. He was watching his cousin get beaten at pool by an emotionless Luke. Darren was cursing up a storm, but Luke didn't so much as crack a smile, he just made his shot, hit or miss.

Luke glanced up from the table and noticed Scott watching him, and he narrowed his eyes before he bent back to his shot, sinking the ball. It was the closest he had come to any kind of emotion the entire game.

Scott turned back to Dickie, who was asking him something, "I'm sorry?"

Dickie shrugged, "We're going into Eastbourne tomorrow night, I was wondering if you would like to join us. You probably haven't had a chance to meet anyone yet, Serena just offered to bring you along."

He realized he was being set up on a date, and he was thrown for a second, "But I'm gay..." he said, looking shocked at the fact he had just blurted it out like that.

Dickie shrugged, "Ok," he said in a manner that said he really didn't care one way or the other. Fleur had sat up in surprise, and Serena was looking at him blankly.

"So that's why you didn't..." she began and swallowed it before she said too much.

He gritted his teeth; he hated it when he was caught off guard like that. "I'm sorry," he started to apologize, "I-"

"No need to explain," Dickie replied, waving off his apology, "I don't care. Though I wouldn't recommend yelling it too loudly in a pub again." He lifted a hand to cheerfully wave at a couple of the regulars who were staring in shock in their general direction.

"How come the cute ones are always gay," Serena pouted a smile on her pretty face, "You sure?"

"Been out for a year now," Scott confirmed, glad that it was finally out in the open, "I'm sorry, I thought that..." he looked at Serena, "I didn't want to give anyone the wrong idea that's all."

She gave him a petulant look before she broke into a broad grin;"You could come shopping with us next weekend!" she looked delighted, "help me pick out clothes..."

Scott coughed, "Umm, I'm not really the kind of guy who knows about... women's clothing..."

Dickie gave him a disgusted look, "You're right, you in stockings and a bra is a nasty thought..."

"...are you sure you're gay?" Serena said looking at him closely, "You look like a short football player to me..."

Scott scratched his temple, "Sorry..."