“Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that...”
“Oh. Okay.” Mike delved his hands into his pockets. “Sorry. I snapped a little then. You know, when you make a living on the streets, some people automatically think you have no brain power. I’ve been on the receiving end of a lot of snotty remarks. I get a bit touchy. I’ll make us a drink. Is coffee okay? I’ve run out of tea.”
Arthur nodded and sat down on the sofa. Lucy leaped up and settled on his lap. He stroked her head and she looked up at him with her orange eyes.
“Where’s next on your travels?” Mike said as he placed two steaming mugs on the table. “What’s the next charm you’re trying to trace?”
“I don’t know. I’m intrigued by the paint palette. And I haven’t thought about my mother-in-law for years. Or perhaps I should just stop searching. It makes my head hurt.”
“You should never give up,” Mike said. “Those charms on your bracelet could be lucky.”
Arthur shook his head. After what he had been through, he doubted it. “Lucky?”
“You know. Lucky charms. Lucy is like my lucky charm.”
“I don’t think so...”
“How old are you, Arthur?”
“Sixty-nine.”
“Well, that’s kind of elderly, but not decrepit. You could have twenty years of life left. Are you really going to waste it planting hyacinths and drinking tea? Is that what your wife would have wanted you to do?”
“I’m not sure.” Arthur sighed. “Before I found the bracelet, I’d be doing just that and thinking it’s what Miriam would have wanted for me. But now I don’t know. I thought I knew her so well, and now I’m finding out all these things that she didn’t tell me, that she didn’t want me to know. And if she kept these kinds of secrets from me, what else did she not tell me? Was she faithful to me, did I bore her, did I stop her from doing the kinds of things that she loved to do?” He looked down at the multicolored rag rug on the floor.
“You can’t stop people doing what they want to do if they really want to do it. Perhaps she thought that her life before you was no longer relevant. Sometimes when you’ve lived a chapter of your life, you don’t want to look back. I lost five years of my life through drugs. All I remember is waking up feeling like shit, or roaming the streets looking to score, or the delirium after I’d shot up. I don’t ever want to look back at that. I want to get back on my feet, get a proper job, maybe find a girl who’s good for me.”
Arthur nodded. He understood what Mike was saying, but it wasn’t the same. “Tell me about your books,” he said. “I’d like to hear about them.”
“I just like them. I still remember one from when I was a child. It was about a bear trying to get into a jar of honey. He never gave up. I thought about that when I was trying to get clean. I had to just keep on trying to open that honey jar.”
“I liked to read to my kids when they were young. My son much preferred my wife to do it, but when I got to do it, it felt really special. I liked the stories, too.”
“Everyone has a good story to tell, Arthur. If you’d have told me last night that I’d have an adventurous old bloke kipping at my house for the night, I’d think I was going mad. But here you are. You’re all right, Arthur, for a posh pensioner,” he teased.
“And so are you, for a bit of a scruffbag.”
The two men laughed.
“I am rather tired now,” Arthur said. “Do you mind if I go to sleep?”
“Not at all, mate. The bathroom is at the end of the hallway. You have my bed and I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
“I won’t hear of it. I’m absolutely fine on here and it looks as though Lucy will be joining me.” The little dog had curled up beside him and gone to sleep.
Mike left the room and returned with a green woolen blanket that smelled a bit musty. “This will keep you warm.”
“It certainly will.” Arthur laid it over his legs.
“Good night, then, Arthur.”
“Good night.”
Before he went to sleep he tried to phone Lucy again to tell her where he was and about her little furry namesake. But there was no reply. He stuffed his mobile under the cushion on the sofa. He lay down and his eyes began to close straightaway. The last thing he saw was the paint palette charm glinting, catching the light from the streetlamp outside.
*
When Arthur woke the next morning, Lucy was gone. He yawned and glanced around Mike’s sitting room. His eyes slowly fell upon the coffee table. There was nothing on it. The charm bracelet was no longer there. It no longer glinted in the light.
His eyes widened and he sat bolt upright. A wave of nausea hit him in the back of his throat. Where was it? He was sure he had left it there. Standing, he nearly fell back over. His knees had locked and his back was curved. He slowly eased himself upright. Mike couldn’t have taken the bracelet. He trusted him. This was his flat. But then he wondered if it really was. There were no personal possessions. He remembered how Mike had tensed when he had mentioned the books.
“Lucy?” he called out. His voice sounded hollow and he listened for the sound of her nails clipping on the floorboards. All he could hear were a couple shouting in the flat next door. He called her a lazy git. She called him a fat loser.
He dropped the green blanket to the floor, then stood and walked around the flat. Again, all the furniture was functional. There were no photo frames or ornaments. In the bathroom there was an empty tube of Colgate on the sink. He opened the fridge and there was only half a pint of milk inside. He was alone. There was nothing here.
He sank back onto the sofa and held his head in his hands. Pulling out his phone from under the cushion he saw that Lucy hadn’t returned his call. He should never have started on this journey. His boring life felt like a luxurious comfort now compared to this roller-coaster ride of emotions and events. Then he remembered his backpack. Had that disappeared, too? He had put his wallet in the front pocket. How the hell could he get across London with no money? He didn’t even know where he was. “I’ve been an absolute pillock, Miriam,” he said aloud. He would have to do whatever he could to get out of here and get back home.
It wasn’t possible for his heart to feel any heavier when he heard a key in the front door. His heart leaped. “Mike?” he called out. “Mike. Is that you?”
“That’s my name. Don’t wear it out.” The front door slammed shut. Lucy scampered toward him. She leaped up at his legs and he rubbed her neck.
Mike dumped a carrier bag on the sofa. “I’ve been out to get a few supplies. I can’t afford much but I got bread and some butter for toast. I couldn’t afford milk and the stuff in the fridge is off, so black coffee only.”
Arthur couldn’t help himself. He stepped over and hugged Mike. The young man’s body stiffened. “Er, is everything okay?”
“Yes.” Arthur nodded with relief. His eyes flicked to the coffee table.
“Ah. You’re wondering where your bracelet is. You woke up and saw it was gone and I was gone. You thought I’d done a runner.”
“I’m sorry. It crossed my mind. I’m not very trusting at the moment.”
“I can understand that.” Mike walked over to the bookshelf and slid out a dictionary. He took out the bracelet. “I got robbed last month. I don’t leave anything valuable hanging about—not that I have anything any longer.”
“Did you lose something important?”
“My dad’s watch. It was a gold Rolex. Jeff offered me a fortune for it, but I couldn’t let it go. I’d prefer to starve than to sell that watch. It was the only thing of his I had left. I sold the other stuff to pay for drugs. I really regret it now. He died when I was three.”