“It’s not as if you were ever short of it in the past.”
“No, but now that I’m dead I get to have sex with women from all periods of history. I did it with Elizabeth Taylor last week. She looks like she did in Father of the Bride, so, you know, she’s not short of offers. But she chose me.”
“Lucky you.”
“Lucky her,” he said, grinning. “And Rock Hudson made a pass at me.”
“What did you do?”
“Told him I wasn’t into dirty queers.”
I burst out laughing. “Of course you did,” I said.
“No, I’m only kidding. I let him down gently. Although Elizabeth wouldn’t speak to me again afterward.”
“Will there be someone up there for me?” I asked hopefully.
“One person,” he said.
“Where is he?” I asked. “I never see him.”
“He doesn’t visit you?”
“He hasn’t so far.”
“Be patient.”
“Sir?”
I shook my head and looked back at him but he’d changed now, he was no longer Julian but a young boy, a boy of about seventeen. I took another step down so I could see him without the sunlight blinding my vision.
“Yes?” I said.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Who are you?”
“I’m Marcus,” he said.
“Oh yes,” I said, feeling as if I could just sit down on the lowest step and never stand up again. “The famous Marcus.”
“You must be Mr. Avery? George’s grandfather?”
“I’m his grandfather all right. But please don’t call me that. Call me Cyril.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re…you know…”
“An old man?”
“Well, yes. I suppose.”
“I don’t care,” I said, shaking my head. “I hate it when people call me Mr. Avery. If you don’t call me Cyril, I won’t call you Marcus.”
“But what else would you call me?”
“I’ll call you Doris,” I said. “See how you like that.”
“OK, I’ll call you Cyril,” he said, smiling as he extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Why are you standing out here all on your own anyway?” I asked. “Is no one looking after you?”
“George let me in,” he said. “Then he went up to his room because he looked in the mirror and found an eyebrow out of place. And I didn’t want to go in there alone,” he added, nodding toward the kitchen, from where I could hear the sounds of the rest of the family gathered together.
“I wouldn’t worry if I was you,” I said. “They’re very friendly. They don’t bite.”
“I know,” he said. “I’ve met them all before. But I just feel nervous going in on my own.”
“Well, I’ll wait with you,” I said.
“You don’t have to.”
“I don’t mind,” I said. “You look very smart.”
“Thank you,” said Marcus. “I bought a new suit.”
“So did George.”
“I know. We bought them together. We had to be careful that we went for completely different styles and colors. We didn’t want to look like, you know, Jedward or something.”
I smiled. “I actually know who they are,” I said. “Believe it or not. Despite my advanced years.”
“Are you excited about today?” asked Marcus.
“People keep asking me that,” I said.
“It’s a big day.”
“It is, yes. I never expected to see it, if I’m honest.”
“And yet here it is.”
“Indeed,” I said.
We sat in silence for a few moments and then he turned to me enthusiastically. “Is it true that Maude Avery was your mother?” he asked. “Your other mother, I mean?”
“She was,” I said.
“We study two of her books in school. I really like her work.”
“Do you see that room up there?” I said, pointing up through the staircase toward a door on the second floor. “That’s where she wrote them.”
“Not all of them,” said Maude, stepping out of the front room and leaning up against the wall, lighting a cigarette.
“No?”
“No. Before you came to live with us, when it was just me and Charles in the house alone, I used to write downstairs. After he’d gone to work, I mean. The light was better, frankly. And I had more chance of catching people in the gardens.”
“You always hated them,” I said.
“They had no business being there. It’s private property.”
“It’s really not.”
“It is, Cyril. Please don’t contradict me. I find it so tiresome.”
“Sorry,” I said.
“Anyway, after you showed up, I moved upstairs. I needed space. And privacy. And as it turned out, I was better off up there. I produced some of my best work in that study.”
“You know you’re on the tea towel?” I said.
“I’ve heard,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “It’s disgusting. The idea of people wiping their dirty coffee cups on my face. How on earth do people think that’s a compliment?”
“It’s immortality,” I said. “Isn’t that what every writer craves? To have their work read long after they’re dead?”
“Well, it’s not as if anyone reads it when they’re alive.”
“Your books have lived on. Doesn’t that make you happy?”
“Not in the slightest,” she said. “What does it matter? I should have done a Kafka. Had everything burned after I died.”
“Kafka has a museum in his honor.”
“Yes, but he told me how much he hates it. I’m not sure whether he means it, of course. That man could moan for Czechoslovakia.”
“It’s the Czech Republic now,” I said.
“Oh don’t be difficult, Cyril. It’s such an unattractive trait.”
“I can’t believe you’re friends with Kafka,” I said.
“Friends might be overstating it a little,” she said with a shrug. “Acquaintances would be a better word. You know, Emily Dickinson is here too. All she does is write poems about life all the time. The irony! She keeps asking me to read them. I refuse, of course. The days are long enough as it is.”
“Mr. Avery?”
“What?” I glanced to my left, to Marcus.
“I said, I can’t believe I’m in the same house where Maude Avery wrote her books.”
I nodded and said nothing for a few moments and was glad to see George bounding down the stairs with the enthusiasm of a puppy.
“How are my eyebrows?” he asked, looking from one of us to the other.
“Perfect,” I said. “But I’ll keep a close eye on them as the day goes on, just in case.”
“Would you? That would be great.”
“Should we go inside?” asked Marcus.
“I thought you were already in there,” said George.
“No,” said Marcus. “I was waiting for you.”
“Granddad,” said George, frowning at me. “You haven’t been perving over Marcus, have you?”
“Shut up, George,” I said. “Don’t be so ridiculous.”
“I’m only joking.”
“Well don’t. It’s not funny.”
“I don’t mind. I perv over him all the time. But then I’m allowed.”
I shook my head. “I’m going inside,” I said. “I heard the sound of a champagne cork being popped.”
I led the way into the kitchen, where Liam and Laura were dressed in their finery, glasses before them, while Julian continued with his book and Grace listened to her iPod.