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He pulled slowly into the kerb and turned off the ignition. It was that kind of street, quiet and respectable, not the sort where you’d rev the engine or screech the tyres. Not like he and Doyle used to do.
Bodie sat listening to the raindrops on the roof, wondering again at the wisdom that brought him to Doyle’s doorstep unannounced. Perhaps he should have phoned first, but the fear that Doyle would try to put him off or ask straight out why he wanted to see him was enough for Bodie to know he had made the right decision. There were some things you just couldn’t say over the phone.
Bodie dodged raindrops, cursing that he hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella. As he hurried up the front path he noted the well trimmed lawns and flower beds of the two story cottage. Had Doyle taken up gardening or was this Samantha’s handiwork? Doyle would have more spare time now than he used to when he was with CI5. Bodie had followed the success of Doyle’s personal security firm and knew it was doing well. His government contacts had given him a foot in the door with many local and international clients. He’d taken on staff, some even head hunted from the ranks of CI5 itself, leaving Ray Doyle the luxury of directing and organising rather than doing the daily grind.
Bodie rang the door bell, his mouth suddenly dry. It had been months since he had spoken with Doyle and almost a year since he had last seen him. They’d been so close once, even after Doyle had married and left CI5. Bodie was godfather to Doyle’s first born. But for all their shared experiences, and there were more of those than even Doyle’s wife knew, time had taken its toll on their friendship and they had drifted apart. Well, time and Samantha Spencer-Doyle, if Bodie was really honest with himself, although he would never say that to his friend.
Doyle’s wife had disliked Bodie from the start. Disliked their friendship, disliked the closeness they shared, disliked just about everything that had anything to do with Bodie or CI5. She got her way in the end. Bodie had stepped back, not wanting to cause problems between Doyle and his new wife. Because Ray Doyle meant a lot to Bodie, far more than Doyle had ever realised. Oh it wasn’t Ray’s fault. He wanted a home and a family like everyone else. He wanted security and an end to the danger that dogged their lives every day while working for Cowley. Bodie had wanted something similar, but it had evaded him, slipped through his fingers time and again. He knew now that it would never be his.
Bodie rang the doorbell again and the front door opened revealing a dark haired woman who, despite wearing jeans and a simple tee shirt managed to look like she had just stepped out of a fashion magazine. Subtle makeup added to the illusion. Doyle had been putty in her hands.
“Yes, may I help you?” The blue eyes blinked, recognition taking hold. “Oh it’s you Bodie. Ray didn’t tell me he was expecting you.”
“That’s because he didn’t know I was coming. I didn’t phone, I’m sorry…Sam…Samantha,” Bodie hastily corrected not wanting to get off to a bad start. Samantha hated being called Sam, it was one of the first things Bodie had learnt about her so, of course, he had taken delight in using the diminutive every chance he got. For the first time Bodie admitted that perhaps he was partly to blame for the animosity between them.
“Is Ray home, Samantha? I need to see him about something important.”
Samantha looked at her watch. “Well yes, but we were heading out.” She stood in the doorway and for one panic filled moment Bodie wondered if she was going to refuse to let him in and leave him standing on the doorstep in the rain.
“Please, it will only take a moment. I promise,” he pleaded. Did his voice sound as pathetic as he felt?
“Well all right, come in then.” Samantha showed Bodie into a small, tastefully decorated room off the hallway. “Ray’s upstairs with the boys. Wait here, I’ll call him.” She shut the door, leaving Bodie to take in his surroundings. This must be the room that Doyle used as an office when he was at home if the desk and filing cabinet was any indication. Business, that’s what Sam saw this as and not a visit from an old friend. She would have shown him into the sitting room otherwise. The chairs were business-like too but there was an old couch off to one side just big enough to seat two people comfortably. Bodie hesitated, wondering whether to sit there or not, wondering if Doyle would sit next to him like old times, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. He chose to stand.
Voices sounded just outside the door, a murmur of snatched words and phrases; that friend, bad time, why now, Terry’s football game, won’t be long.
The door opened and Doyle was there at last, older, slightly greyer, but still as breathtaking as the last time Bodie had seen him. Bodie couldn’t stop the grin that suddenly spread across his face any more than he could stop the sun from rising.
“Hello Ray. It’s good to see you.”
“What’s up Bodie? Samantha said it was important.” Doyle’s face was clouded in a frown, a hint of annoyance in his eyes. Bodie felt chastened and wiped the smile off his face.
“Yes, it’s important.”
“Well couldn’t you have phoned first? Terry’s got a football game in about an hour. This isn’t the best time.”
Bodie’s courage was fast deserting him. Perhaps he should have phoned. Then he wouldn’t be waiting for a welcome he wasn’t going to receive.
Doyle gestured for Bodie to take one of the chairs and perched himself on the edge of his desk, waiting. “What’s wrong Bodie? Has someone died?”
Not yet, thought Bodie. He shook his head.
Doyle’s eyes flicked up and down. “You’ve lost weight. Been sick have you?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
There was no easy way to do this, Bodie thought to himself. “Doyle, there’s something I have to tell you.” His mouth was dry again. “I have Aids.”
“You what?” Somewhere a clock was ticking, loud and discordant in the silence that fell between them.
“I have Aids, Ray,” Bodie repeated and waited for the storm he knew was to come.
“Bloody hell Bodie!” Doyle jumped off the desk. “Why are you telling me this?” He ran his hand over his face and into his hair that was short now but still framed his face in curls. “You’re not trying to suggest that I….that I might have it too, are you?”
“I don’t know Ray, probably not but…”
“How can you come in here and tell me something like this? My god, what if Samantha and the kids…” He crossed the room and loomed over Bodie where he sat rigid in the chair. Voice lowered to a deadly whisper Doyle said, “What we …did… was a long time ago…and you never…I never let you… It was only two bloody weeks Bodie!”
It might only have been two weeks, but they had been the happiest in Bodie’s lifetime. Another failed love affair had Doyle crying in his cups and Bodie trying so hard to cheer him up. A friendly arm about the shoulder, a brotherly hug that was suddenly something so much more, Bodie still wasn’t sure exactly who made the first move but he wasn’t about to question providence when he found Ray Doyle in his arms. Bodie always suspected Ray had an adventurous streak but had never dreamt he would ever get the chance to find out first hand. Their two weeks together had passed in a whirl of sex and passion and had ended as quickly. Bodie could still remember that final day. They’d taken the bikes out for a ride into the country and had stopped for a picnic although neither of them had used that word. Lunch was what they called it as they ate in the shade of a tree. Afterwards they lay back on the grass basking in the warm afternoon sun.
It was perfect, just perfect and Bodie knew in a sudden flash of insight that he never wanted this to end. And just as Bodie was steeling himself to pour out his heart and tell Ray Doyle that he loved him, Doyle had casually announced a date with a new girlfriend. “She’s really something, Bodie. I think she might be the one.” So it was ‘Ta Bodie, thanks for the fun’ and Doyle had moved on to his next heart break.
Bodie had never recovered.
“Are you trying to tell me that you had it back then?” Doyle was asking as Bodie brought himself back to the present. “You couldn’t have….you told me you hadn’t been with…” Doyle stopped, took a deep breath and visibly brought his anger under control. “Were you lying to me Bodie when you said you hadn’t been with another man since you’d been back in England?”
“No Ray. I wasn’t lying.”
“Well then you couldn’t have had it then, could you?”
“No, not then.” That much was certain. “But do you remember that last op, the one that went badly just before you gave up CI5? Remember how we both got shot and we were bleeding all over each other? Well, I might have had it then.”
That operation had been the final straw for Ray Doyle. Newly married with a wife who hated what he did, Doyle had called it quits after a being shot in the chest yet again. The bullet had passed through one lung and Bodie, one bullet lodged in his shoulder, head bleeding from another that had ricocheted off a brick wall, had spent precious minutes doing CPR while waiting for an ambulance. Ray’s blood had been all over his hands, and Bodie’s own had flowed down his face into Doyle’s mouth, and down his arm onto Doyle’s chest. In one crystal clear moment Bodie had thought how poetic it would be to die like this together, their blood mingling and pooling around them. So much blood.
“You had it then?” Doyle asked, his brow drawing into that frown that was so heartbreakingly familiar.
“I might have. I’m not really sure.” Bodie waited for the next question.
“So, who was it? You must know who you got it from, Bodie.”
The door opened suddenly. “Ray, we’re going to be late for…”
“Not now Sam!” Doyle shouted. Bodie allowed himself a smirk at the hated nickname. He wondered what Doyle called his wife in bed.
Samantha Doyle glared at her husband. “There’s no need to shout Ray. This is an important game for Terry; the semi finals…or have you forgotten?”
Doyle walked to the door. “No love, I’m sorry. You go on and I’ll meet you there when …” he turned back to look at Bodie. “When we’ve finished.”
“Well all right then. But Terry will be disappointed if he scores a goal and you’re not there to see it.” She leaned in to kiss her husband on the cheek and with a parting glare at Bodie closed the door leaving the ex-partners alone once more.
Doyle walked back to the desk and perched on one corner again. His hips might not be as slim, but Doyle had lost none of that sensual grace he had possessed. Hips and lips to die for, Bodie had thought once. Now it sounded like a sick joke.
“So who was it Bodie? Just someone you picked up?”
“No, it was Murphy.”
“Murphy? Our Murph? Christ almighty Bodie!” Doyle shook his head in disbelief. “Was he before or after me?”
“After, Ray…I told you there’d been no one for a long time.” Even now it seemed that Doyle didn’t believe him. “It was after you got married, just before you called it quits.”
Doyle was thinking, working through dates and times. “That doesn’t leave much time before that last op, Bodie.”
“No, I’d only been with Murph a couple of times when you and I got shot. We got together for a while after you left.”
“So it wasn’t just a casual thing with Murphy?”
Bodie shrugged. He hadn’t considered it causal at the time. He’d been hurting and in Murphy he had found a refuge. He’d wondered if perhaps he and Murphy could make a go of it together, but Murphy wasn’t into commitment, something that Bodie had found out much too late.
“I didn’t think so, but Murph liked to play the field, had other lovers…” Bodie looked away, “I don’t know when he got it or when he gave it to me.”
“But it’s unlikely that you had it when that last op turned bad.” Doyle asked.
“Yeah, unlikely but there is a small possibility. You should get tested Ray, just to be sure.”
“Oh I will Mate,” the endearment sounded like a curse. “I will, don’t you worry about that.” Doyle folded his arms and looked away. “Christ, what will I tell Samantha?”
“You don’t have to tell her anything. Just get the test. If it comes to that then tell her I bled all over you. It’s the truth.”
“How many more do you have to chase up with your good news? I bet half the female population is running scared right now.” Doyle paused, his mouth twisting into cruel little smile. “And half the male population as well I guess. Christ Bodie!”
There were far fewer than Doyle would ever suspect. After Doyle and then Murphy, Bodie had shied away from relationships for a long while. He’d crawled into his cave and licked his wounds, waiting for the pain to pass. He’d never risked his heart again.
“I’m sorry Ray. Like you said, it’s unlikely that you have it but I couldn’t take the chance.” Bodie started down at his hands; the scared knuckles and calloused palms. “Supposing I died and you didn’t find out until afterwards. You’d be beside yourself worrying and wondering when and where. At least now you know the truth of it.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Doyle’s expression softened. “At least Cowley’s not here to tear strips off you. Can you imagine what he’d say or do?”
“No worse than what Stuart’s done.” Colin Stuart, so called undercover king of South London, had taken over as Controller when Cowley resigned ten years ago. Coming hard on the heels of Doyle’s departure, it had left Bodie feeling bereft. For so long he and Doyle had been Cowley’s number one team. Many had seen them as the logical succession - a partnership to run CI5 – Doyle with his copper’s sense and respect for the law, Bodie with his underground contacts, weapons expertise and splash of ruthlessness. But with Doyle out of the equation, Cowley had looked elsewhere for someone to fill his shoes. Stuart had made changes and it was not long before Bodie found himself taking over from Macklin as the new training officer. He’d welcomed the role because working in the field without Raymond Doyle was like trying to walk with only one leg. Gradually Bodie had come to enjoy training the new recruits and retraining the old ones. Oh, he was never as harsh as Macklin and could never bring himself to deliberately injure one of his agents, but he was tough and each man or woman left there knowing they had a better chance of survival.
“What’s Stuart done, then?” Doyle asked.
“Put me down in the armoury, he has. Said he can’t risk me bleeding and infecting anyone if I stay in training. I’m to do old Alf Cole’s job.”
“Oh Bodie.” The armoury job had always been seen as a gratuity for someone on the threshold of retirement but too stubborn to take that final step.
“Stuart said I should take it as a compliment.”
“He always was full of himself.” Doyle looked at Bodie, eyes softening at last. “So what will you do?”
“I’ll keep working, same as always. They say the doctors are working on a cure so who knows, in another year or two I might be all better.”
“Yeah. That’s the spirit. You’ll beat it. Never was anything that could keep you down, Bodie.
Just you Ray, Bodie thought to himself.
Doyle slid off the desk, looking at his watch. “Look, I’m sorry Bodie, but I’m going to have to get moving or I’ll miss the game. I’m on the committee and I’m expected to be there. Plus Terry is the team captain.” Terrence, Doyle’s eldest, was Bodie’s godson. For a moment Bodie thought Doyle might invite him along to watch the game as well, but Doyle remained silent as he walked to the door and opened it, waiting.
Bodie stood up and wiped his palms on his trousers. He hadn’t realised he was sweating. “Yeah sorry to take up so much time.” He followed Doyle into the hall.
“Nah, don’t worry Bodie. Look, if there’s anything I can do, just call. Ok?” Doyle opened the front door and stepped out. Bodie followed.
“Yeah mate. Thanks.”
They shook hands in the rain, a small sorry gesture that was all either one of them could give.
“Do you need a lift to the field Ray? I could drive you.” Like old times, Bodie thought.
“No, we have two cars. But thanks anyway Bodie.”
Bodie turned up his coat collar and walked down the steps, down the path, never once turning to look back, afraid that Doyle might be watching him leave, more afraid that he might not.
He started his car, turned on the wipers and drove slowly to the corner, turning left. He pulled in then, parked the car, and sat while the rain and tears dried on his face. There was no other way this could have ended, Bodie knew that. There was no reason to sit here feeling sorry for himself. He’d only ever wanted to make Raymond Doyle happy and he’d done that by letting him go. It was good to see Ray with a wife and family, a successful business, a happy home. Doyle deserved it.
I should go and see Murphy, Bodie decided. He hadn’t seen Murph since that fateful phone call he’d received over a month ago. Murphy hadn’t been able to face him, and Bodie had sat at his desk in the small office he was assigned, listening to the words that put an end to his dreams. It was one of the reasons he’d had to see Doyle in person. Yes, he’d pay Murphy a visit for old time’s sake, see how he was and show him there were no hard feelings.
A noise interrupted Bodie’s musing, a familiar sound, something from the past. A car was roaring around the corner, wheels screeching, tyres smoking. Bloody idiot, Bodie thought, that’s no way to drive in a neighbourhood like this. There are kiddies around.
He turned to watch as the car went by still deciding whether to follow and pull the driver over and give him a stern warning. He was unprepared for what he saw. A white Ford Escort with black sunroof flashed past, looking older and showing a bit of wear and tear like its owner. On arm hanging out the window, the other on the wheel, Ray Doyle looked for all the world like ten years had not gone past.
Bodie smiled, shook his head and for the first time in weeks began to laugh. Something deep inside him broke free and bubbled up, escaping with his merriment, bringing with it all the hope and optimism that life had crushed.
If Ray Doyle, respectable married man, successful business owner and all round pillar of the junior football community could keep a battered old Escort and drive like a curly haired imp out of hell when the mood took him, then perhaps miracles really could happen.
The End
Minerva Feb 2009