Lessons in Power by Charlie Cochrane

burning his own eyes and employed his already wet linen to clear them. “It’s all been

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    Charlie Cochrane
    stirred up a bit recently. This case that we’re looking into; the man who was killed was one of those boys and one of the prime suspects is the other. It’s all a bit too close for comfort.”
    Mrs. Stewart fixed him with her watery gaze. “Then give it up, Orlando. I won’t have him upset like
    this. Tell the people involved anything you like, or let me tell them. Better still give me the name of this other suspect and I’ll go and see him.” Her hands began to shake again and Orlando clasped them. He’d never seen Mrs. Stewart so distressed, so lost for the appropriate word.
    “You know I can’t do any of those things. Jonty is determined that we see this case through—he feels
    that it’s essential to his recovery to pursue the affair, no matter where it leads. Please don’t mention it to him. Let him, let us, deal with things.”
    “But he’s my boy. It’s a mother’s duty to look after her own.” The old fight and spirit was beginning to reassert itself and while Orlando was pleased to see it, he wasn’t keen to be in an altercation with his lover’s dear mama.
    “I appreciate that, but he’s mine, too.” Their eyes met, like two stags about to vie for ownership of the hinds.
    For a moment it seemed like Mrs. Stewart was about to give Orlando a piece of her mind, but she
    smiled and reached across to kiss his cheek. “Of course he is and I shouldn’t interfere. I trust no one with him as well as I trust you. Just look after him, eh?”
    “Have you ever known me not to?”
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    Chapter Six
    “Jonty?” Orlando didn’t usually knock, making do with barging into his friend’s room unannounced,
    hoping to catch him unawares. On this occasion he not only tapped at the door, but tentatively poked his head around it.
    “Hello, sweetheart. Come in and stop making a draught.”
    Orlando shut the door carefully behind him then wandered across to the huge brass bed, where Jonty
    lay looking like a schoolboy in his striped pyjamas and with his hair all fluffed up from being washed. It was a sight which filled him with thoughts even more tender than those he’d entered the room with.
    Orlando ruffled his locks. “Feeling better?”
    “Much, thank you. Have you been chin-wagging with Mama?”
    Orlando nodded. “A pleasant way to pass the time.” He sought refuge in bland words, hoping his
    friend wouldn’t come up with any probing questions just yet.
    “And would it be pleasant to pass some time in my bed?” Jonty reached out his hand to finger
    Orlando’s tie. “I have a hankering to lie with my lover which won’t be easily gainsaid.”
    “I think I would like that above all things.” Orlando started undressing, as brazen as he’d been the
    afternoon when he’d got drunk and insisted on using Jonty’s bath. That now seemed long ago, an age of great innocence when they knew very little about each other. They knew much more now—hardly anything
    was kept secret and that only because it didn’t really matter in the greater scheme of their lives.
    The innocence had now long gone—Orlando couldn’t believe what he’d been just a year or so ago.
    Twenty-seven and a virgin. Twenty-seven and never been kissed. Twenty-seven and likely to remain
    untouched until he died a dried-up death in a chair in St. Bride’s Senior Common Room. Then Jonty
    Stewart came on the scene and all that had changed. Thank heaven he had.
    Orlando wandered through the bathroom which connected their two bedrooms, found his pyjamas,
    slipped them on, then returned to find Jonty snuggled down, book and reading glasses discarded. Orlando slid between the soft linen sheets, drawing Jonty to him. “I’d hoped it was all over, you know.”
    “Hmm?”
    “This business with the thunder. I always hoped that somehow I could overcome it with my