“Twelve months is quite a long time. You don’t want him to be miserable.”
“No, but...”
“So, do you think he’s beginning a relationship with this Bernadette lady?”
“No. I mean, I’d not thought about it.”
“I suppose even if he did, it would be all holding hands in the park. It’s not like it’s going to be a hotbed of passion.”
“Dan!”
“It’s true. The steamiest it will probably get is a cucumber sandwich and an ice cream with a cookie in it. Dad’s always been the quiet, subdued type, so I can’t see him changing much now.”
Lucy blinked. Her dad and Bernadette. Was this why her father was acting cagey? “I’m sure he’s not ready for anything like that. He has the house to think about.”
“Whoa, slow down. He goes out on a day trip and you’re marrying him off and worrying about his state of mind. Let him get on with it. Concentrate on your own life.”
“I am letting him get on with it.”
“Lucy. He’s on his own. It’s great that he’s got something going on in his life other than Countdown, murder mysteries and cups of tea. Countdown is still on over there, right?”
“Yes.” Lucy scratched her neck. She sat down behind her desk. “Anyway. Do you think you could come over soon, Dan? It’s been over eighteen months. I thought you might have made it to Mum’s funeral. I could do with a little support with Dad.”
“You know I couldn’t come to the funeral,” Dan said quickly. “Kelly was in the middle of her medical exams. Kyle had broken his arm. Marina had the measles. It was just the worst time. Besides, you didn’t go, either...”
“I’m not accusing you...”
“Well, just to say that you didn’t go, either.”
“I know...”
“Well...”
“Well...”
They had resorted back to being kids again.
“I’m just really worried about Dad, but you’re on the other side of the world. You don’t have to deal with the day-to-day stuff of making sure that he’s eating, trying to cheer him up when he’s depressed,” she said. Then unable to stop herself, she added, “You always had it easy as a kid, too.”
“Hey, where did that come from?”
“Sorry, but...”
“Look, Lucy. You and Dad will always be my family but I have my own wife and kids now. They take priority. Maybe you should think about having your own family. There’ll be a day when Dad isn’t around any longer and you’ll be on your own.”
Lucy felt like she had a boiled sweet stuck in her throat. She wanted a child more than anything. Dan didn’t know about her miscarriage.
“Are you still there?”
She tried to swallow. “Just about.”
“I’m sorry I shouted.”
“It’s okay.”
“Do you mean that?”
“I don’t know.” She sighed.
“There’s nothing much I can do, Luce. Mum’s gone and that’s dreadfully sad. As for Dad, it sounds as if you’re worrying over nothing. He must be okay for him to leave you a message. If he’s been away with this Bernadette lady, then that sounds pretty normal, too. When he starts to need real help, then we can talk. You can call me anytime.”
“Maybe he’s starting to need real help now...”
“He sounds fine.”
“But you’re not here.”
“Don’t say it like that. I left because it’s a great life for me out here, not to escape anything in the UK. Okay?”
Feeling unable to carry on the conversation without getting more worked up, Lucy hung up.
Immediately her phone buzzed as Dan tried to call her back. She ignored it, pressing the red button to reject his call. He tried again and she rejected that, too.
Needing time to think, she held her head in her hands. She didn’t hear the school bell ring and stayed in that position until she felt a small hand on her shoulder.
“Are we okay to come into class now, miss?”
Mobile Technology
WHEN ARTHUR, BERNADETTE and Nathan arrived back at Bernadette’s house she insisted that Arthur come inside for a coffee. He just wanted to get home, to phone the doctor and get an appointment for a tetanus jab. He wanted to be in the peaceful inner sanctum of his own house, to get away from the madness and unfamiliarity of the past few days. He longed to see beige walls and the potpourri leaf in the hallway and to water Frederica. He wanted to call Lucy to tell her properly about his adventure; he was no good at leaving telephone messages.
As Bernadette sang a song he didn’t recognize at the top of her voice in her kitchen, Arthur sat on the sofa. Reaching up and pressing his forearm, it felt very tender, almost like a burn. But he smiled as he recalled Elijah the baby tiger curled up in his basket next to the range cooker. He thought about how bizarre he must look, with his holey suitcase sitting beside him, and his blue trousers.
He had never been inside Bernadette’s home before. Everywhere she could add color, she had done. The walls were daffodil yellow, the skirting board and doors were painted a leaf green. The curtains were sumptuous velvet with large red and purple flowers. There were ornaments on every surface—small ceramic girls holding dogs, colorful glass vases with silk flowers, holiday souvenirs. It felt homely, lived-in, compared to the clinical cleanliness of his own home. Miriam had been a tidier-upper, too. Each time a newspaper might be put down or something was where it shouldn’t be, it would be whisked away and put in its “proper” place. “Sit down and relax,” Arthur used to say when he got in from work and Miriam was ironing, tidying, cleaning.
“It won’t do it itself,” she used to say. “A tidy home is a tidy mind.”
So Arthur would sit as his wife maelstromed around him. When she died he had picked up her mantle to carry on how she would have liked it.
Nathan entered the room. “Hey, MC Hammer,” he said, nodding at Arthur’s trousers. “Can’t touch this.” He threw himself into a chair and hung his arms over the back. His legs bent like sticks of licorice. Sniffing every ten seconds or so, he occasionally wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
Arthur racked his brains for what to say. He had no idea who this MC Hammer person was, if it was a person. He recalled Bernadette’s request for him to have a man-to-man chat with her son. Finally he settled on, “How did your university search go?”
Nathan shrugged. “S’awright.”
“Did you see anywhere you liked?”
Again the young man’s shoulders did the talking.
Arthur looked at the line of photographs in frames on the mantelpiece. One proclaimed World’s Best Mum. A much younger Nathan, Bernadette and Carl held up a large fish and smiled for the camera. A lone photo of Carl caught his eye. He was sunbathing and nursing a glass of red wine. “What job did your dad do?”
Nathan shifted in his chair. “He was an engineer. He mended lifts, I think. Y’know, the electrics and stuff.”
“Is that what you want to study at university?”
“Not really.”
“What do you want to study?”
“I’m looking at English courses. Mum thinks it will be a good option.”
“What do you think of that?”
“I dunno, really.”
Struggling to spark any conversation that seemed to interest the boy, Arthur began to ramble. He found himself telling Nathan that when he was young it was natural to follow in your father’s footsteps. His own father was a locksmith so that was the career path mapped out for him.
“We didn’t call them careers then, though. They were just jobs or trades. I had to do an apprenticeship. It meant working for two years shadowing a locksmith, just standing watching him a lot of the time, not being paid much. He was a good fellow was Stanley Shearing. He always took the time to explain things to me, show me how things worked. I’m not sure that young people have that these days, someone to take an interest in what they do. You seem to get set free in the world, to university and to make your own way in life. I suppose times change. We got married a lot younger in the old days, too. By then I was established in my job so I could bring home quite decent money. We wouldn’t have survived on my apprentice money or a student grant.”