“Hey, Nick.”
“Ade, how’s it going?”
At least Nick sounded sober this time.
“Fine. What do you want?”
“I’m here at the hospital with Janice. She’s most likely going to have a caesarean Friday morning, a planned one, something to do with the baby being turned the wrong way. It’s usually straightforward enough, they say, but they want to keep an eye on her because her blood pressure’s been a bit up and down.”
“Sorry to hear that. What can I do to help?”
“So, what with me working, her mum and dad are looking after Todd until Janice gets back from the hospital, so I wondered if tomorrow night you might be free to—”
“Let me stop you right there, Nick. I’m going to be out of town until—” Adrian stopped and checked with Lenny, who mouthed the word ‘Sunday’. For a change, he had a legitimate excuse to push Nick away. “Until Sunday. So I’m not going to be around. Sorry I can’t help, but I hope everything turns out okay. Give my love to Janice.”
“Yeah, thanks a fucking bunch, pal.”
“Bye, Nick.”
Adrian thumbed off the call and breathed out a sigh, slamming the phone down on the table.
“Problem?”
When Adrian met Lenny’s eyes, he grimaced and shook his head.
“Nothing important. Someone pestering me for a favour I’m not in a position to give.”
“Talking of which, how much do you charge?”
About to take a swig of beer, Adrian froze, Lenny’s words confusing him, still irritated at the kind of favour Nick had been anticipating.
“How much do I charge for what?”
“For your professional consulting services?”
Finally, he caught on and, after a brief chuckle, put the glass down.
“Don’t even think about it. I am not taking your money just to go and look at an old building that you said yourself might be just a pile of bricks.”
“I can’t ask you to give up your time and provide a professional assessment without—”
“Transport, food and accommodation. That’s all I need. And a promise that if you do decide the place is worth keeping and you need a decent builder—that’s me, by the way—then you’ll give me first dibs at quoting for the job.”
Instead of answering straight away, Lenny appeared puzzled, staring down at his drink, the smile still on his face but his head shaking gently from side to side. When his eyes finally lifted to meet Adrian’s, he appeared ready to say something, but then hesitated.
Instead, what came out was a simple thank you.
* * * *
“Then who’s going to pick me up? Look at this weather.”
Leonard’s mother sat unmoving in the front passenger seat after they had parked under shelter in the municipal parking block in Norwich town centre. Adrian heard Lenny breathe out a second soft sigh of irritation. Sat quietly in the back, pretending not to hear the exchange, Adrian stared out of the rain-spattered window, wishing he could be anywhere else.
“We talked about this last night, Mum. You have your umbrella. So get a bus. You keep telling me you don’t use your bus pass enough. Or if you’ve got a lot of shopping, call a taxi.”
“Taxis are expensive. I don’t see why you can’t wait until I’ve finished. Your father would have. I’m only going to be a couple of hours at the most.”
“Mum, we have a five- or six-hour journey ahead of us. And we need to set off now if we’re going to get there before dark. We’ll be back Sunday afternoon.”
“Sunday? I thought you were going to finish the back garden Saturday.”
“Like I said, I’ll do that next week if the weather improves.”
“If? It’s always if with you.”
“I’m driving away now. So you either get out of the car this minute, or you’ll be coming to Wales with us. Your choice.”
Adrian noted a distinct change in Lenny’s tone. To emphasise his point, Lenny pushed the button to start up the engine. After a moment, his mother yanked on the door handle, got out and made a point of slamming the door behind her. Without turning around, she headed for the carpark lift, which would take her directly to the mall. Adrian sat in the back saying nothing, observing poor Lenny’s stiff posture as he watched his mother step through the elevator doors.
“Not a patch on my mother,” said Adrian, quietly, after sitting there for a moment.
“Sorry?”
“Your mum’s performance. Some of the wobblies my mum threw when I was a kid were worthy of an Academy Award. Your mum doesn’t even swear.”
Lenny laughed and turned in his seat.
“Come and sit up front. We need to get moving.”
Once Adrian sat next to him, securing his seat belt in place, and once they had begun navigating their way out of the car park, Lenny let his frustrations out.
“Honestly, Ade. She drives me crazy. Do this, do that. I’m going to have to sit her down and have a serious chat about the future. I’m forty-bloody-seven and I’ve got a business to run. I can’t be here permanently at her beck and call. Does your mother treat you the same way?”
“Are you kidding? She’s busier than a barman on payday. I try to see her once a week, but she has so many friends. I usually have to book an appointment weeks in advance.”
Lenny laughed aloud, and Adrian sensed some of the tension leave him. After a few moments of quiet, as they waited to join the mainstream traffic, he turned to Adrian.
“Thanks for agreeing to do this, Ade.”
It hadn’t escaped Adrian’s notice, had warmed him, that Lenny already had a shortened name for him, even if it was the same one Nick used.
“No problem. Who doesn’t love a road trip? Hey, do you want me to take a turn at driving at some point? I’m cool either way.”
Lenny waited until the car had stopped at a set of traffic lights before answering.
“Let’s see how I get on when we stop for a break. I enjoy driving long distances—do it all the time—so it shouldn’t be a problem. But if you could be principal navigator, temperature controller and music selection director, then I’ll be very happy.”
“Now we’re talking. But first things first. Stay on this road and follow signs for the A11. Secondly, how about some 80s music? Let’s start with bands. Pop quiz. Which would you choose out of the following? Tears for Fears, Fine Young Cannibals, Fleetwood Mac or New Order. And let me just say, the answer to this question is vital if we are going to get along over the next couple of days.”
A playful grin blossomed on Lenny’s face. After taking one hand from the steering wheel and tapping his forefinger against his lips a couple of times, he nodded once.
“No competition. All of the above.”
“Congratulations, Mr Day. That is the correct answer.”
* * * *
Heavy downpours hampered their progress. Motorway traffic frequently came to a standstill due to the relentless deluge. Adrian noticed Lenny adhering strictly to speed limits and slowing when sudden heavy torrents hit, rendering his windscreen wipers almost useless.
To keep the mood light, he chose a channel with random songs from their youth and challenged Lenny to ‘beat the intro’, by guessing the song title from the opening bars. Lenny seemed to enjoy the game, his competitive streak shining through. Occasionally he would also sing along to a song, not particularly in tune and often using unintelligible lyrics. A couple of times he caught Adrian smirking at his effort, and laughed good-naturedly. Lenny even told stories of his life at the time when one particularly memorable song climbed the music charts. Adrian had nothing to reciprocate. His few good memories of the early eighties were eclipsed by those towards the end.
Around one o’clock, rather than stopping at one of the generic motorway service stations, Lenny took them off a slip road and found a small café in Bedford, one he had frequented before. Once again Lenny made a great choice, ordering them both mugs of hot tea and the lunchtime special of
steaming beef and ale pie with mashed potatoes and garden vegetables.
Before leaving the café and darting back through the rain to the car, Adrian offered to take a turn at driving, but Lenny wanted to keep going. Adrian understood, noticing him content behind the steering wheel, negotiating roads and bends and safely overtaking slower vehicles.
* * * *
Later than anticipated, Lenny brought the SUV to a smooth stop outside the brightly lit Manor Inn pub. Silvery shards of heavy rain continued to fill the headlight beams. Without a word, he killed the wipers followed by the engine and after a shared look, they grabbed their bags from the back seat and, holding them over their heads, made a dash for the front door.
With only one entrance to the pub, they stumbled straight into the heart of the toasty-warm bar. Carpeted throughout and with dark-oak-framed furniture and a blazing open fire, the place felt homely but also conspicuously empty.
"Looks like a setting from a family film," said Lenny.
"Or a horror movie," added Adrian.
Lenny snorted and moved further into the room, spotting a young girl behind the bar slowly cleaning a single beer glass. Adrian didn’t hear what was said, but after a quick exchange of words, she called out to someone through an open doorway, before telling them to take a seat.
Minutes later, a woman with a large, black, bound ledger came out from a back room and waddled over to them. She wore pink-framed glasses on a gold chain and a long grey cardigan that had seen better days and which sat over a pale pink dress.
“Hello, my loves,” she said, taking a seat at their table. “Megan Llewellyn, landlady. My husband, Roger, normally deals with bookings, but he’s in Aberystwyth tonight at the national brewery convention, see? So you got me instead. Which of you’s Mr Day?”
“That’s me. I know the booking was last minute, but please tell me everything is okay? We don’t relish the thought of driving back to Norwich in this weather.”
“Know just what you mean. Raining knives and forks out there, it is. No, well, we got your booking okay. Only there is a slight problem.”
Lenny looked to Adrian, who shrugged and waited for Mrs Llewellyn to continue.
“One of the rooms you booked, the Burton Room, named after Richard Burton—all our rooms are named after famous Welsh people, see? Anyway, this one has the king-size bed and is situated at the front of the pub, overlooking the village green. Best room in the place, my Roger says, usually the most popular during the summer months when we’re at our busiest and—”
“Mam, get on with it, will you?”
The whiny voice came from the young girl behind the bar, who had put the towel over one shoulder and now leant on the counter behind the beer taps.
“You get on with cleaning them glasses,” she called back, before meeting the eyes of Adrian and Lenny. “Honestly, kids today think they know it all. Now, where were I?”
“The Burton Room.”
“Oh, yes. So. We had a down-pipe burst overnight right outside the bedroom window and rainwater came in through the frames and the ceiling. Weather’s been like this all week, see? Whole room got flooded. Only found out when I went to get the room ready a couple of hours ago. Even the carpet will need replacing, which means the room’s not habitable. I did try to contact you via the email you used—the telephone number gave me an unobtainable signal—but I imagine you were driving at the time. We have a single room in the attic, but we’re in the middle of redecorating that one. So we only have the one available room, the Dylan Thomas, which has twin beds and an en suite bathroom. Now is that going to be okay for you? Obviously, I’ll only charge for the one room.”
“What telephone number did you use?”
“The one on the online booking form, love. Here.”
When Lenny checked the form, he closed his eyes briefly and shook his head.
“I miskeyed the last digit. Should be a six, not a five. I’m really sorry, Ade. I messed up. Are you okay to share? Personally, I have no issue.”
Adrian hesitated. He couldn’t remember the last time he had shared a room with another man where sex had not been on the menu. Would sharing a room with Lenny be awkward? Even with separate beds, they would still be in close proximity. He felt Lenny’s and Mrs Llewellyn’s eyes on him.
“Look, my loves. Why don’t I give you the key, and you can go and check the room first,” said Mrs Llewellyn, probably sensing his hesitation, “see what you think?”
Adrian nodded slowly. Checking the room might give him time to think of something, if necessary an excuse for them to stay somewhere else.
“Sounds like a plan.”
Chapter Seven
Wales
Located on the first floor, the Dylan Thomas room smelled faintly of fresh decoration and solvent from newly installed fitments. With grey carpeting and walls painted spearmint, the latter adorned with colourful abstract art in stark reds, greens and whites—the colours of the Welsh national flag—the space felt modern. Even the quality white duvet covers, sheets and pillowcases with the forest-green runners on the two double beds seemed more appropriate for a business class of hotel.
Leonard glanced at Adrian, who looked at the layout and furnishings with trepidation. Did he not like the room, or did he have a problem sharing? Had Leonard messed up? Undeterred, Leonard dropped his bag onto the bed nearest the window and went into the bathroom. Modern white and chrome appliances, new fixtures and fittings, with pristine white tiles on the walls and floor lent the space a clinical cleanliness. Not only did the room have a free-standing tub, but also a large shower cubicle. Leonard had stayed in a lot worse. He didn’t notice Adrian’s presence until a voice sounded from over his shoulder.
“How much did this lot set you back?”
“It’s low season. The rooms are very reasonable. Besides, you don’t need to worry. This is on my account, remember? But I reckon this will do nicely. Are you hungry?”
“I’m always hungry.”
“Dump your bag and we’ll go down and get something to eat before the kitchen closes.”
After a slight hesitation, Adrian did as asked and headed straight out to the central stairway leading to the bar. Leonard stayed back to lock the door before stopping to check his phone for messages. He read a couple of updates from Isabelle but found nothing urgent, so hopefully no dramas. When he reached the saloon, Adrian already propped up the bar, his long legs crossed at the ankles, a pint in front of him. The landlady stood behind the counter, pulling one of the beer pumps to fill another glass, while also checking the glasses her daughter had cleaned and occasionally tutting. As soon as Leonard appeared, she smiled a welcome.
“Room to your liking?”
“Very much so, thank you.”
“Lovely.” She set the full pint of beer in front of him. Leonard smiled at Adrian, who had chosen which beer he would drink. “Let’s have your credit card to check against the booking, and then you’re all set to go. Breakfast’s from seven until nine in the dining room around the corner of the bar. We get a selection of dailies in, too, if you like to read while you breakfast. Do you need dinner tonight?”
“We do, actually,” said Leonard, handing over his business credit card. “Ade? Have you chosen?”
They ordered food, this time Adrian opting for local fish with chunky chips while Leonard went for the house special of lamb hotpot. Once they placed their order, Mrs Jones called out something in what sounded like Welsh down the corridor. Within seconds a big bear of a man wearing a white chef’s apron appeared. Blind to Leonard, he gave Adrian a lingering once-over, smiled and nodded once. Leonard felt a pang of annoyance and drained a good third of his pint. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the landlady pointing a finger between Leonard and Adrian before reciting something in Welsh which he assumed to be their order. After she made eye contact with him and nodded out into the saloon area, Leonard got the message and led them over to seats at a table near the open fire. Before sitting, Adrian put his drink on t
he table and quickly excused himself to use the restroom, a move which had Leonard feeling another stab of irritation. Was he going to chat up the chef? But he returned too swiftly. Leonard sensed a tension in Adrian but had no idea how to ask. Fortunately, the food arrived, generous portions that had Adrian’s eyes widening. After silently swapping condiments and sauces, they both fell to enjoying their meal. Finally, Adrian spoke.
“Do you think we should have checked other options? Other hotels?”
Leonard stopped eating and gave him his full attention.
“Doubt there are any, Ade. Not this late in the day. Look, I know the one-room situation isn’t perfect, but this place is otherwise ideal. We’re about ten to fifteen miles from the location of the house. We won’t find anywhere closer. Or do you have a problem sharing?”
“No, it’s not that. I—I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. And if we’re going to share a room, then there are a few things you ought to know about me.” Adrian had stopped eating. His eyes fixed firmly onto his plate of food as he spoke.
“Go on.”
“For starters, I snore.”
“Yes, well. Join the club. Luckily, I have earplugs.”
Kris had snored. At first, the sound had kept Leonard awake. Even with earplugs, he had still been able to hear the droning. Ironically, when Kris passed away, Leonard hadn’t been able sleep due to the absence of snoring. A friend once likened the situation to people who complain about living near busy roads or motorways, who then find sleeping difficult when they stay in quiet places like the suburbs or the countryside.
“I—I’m also gay.”
The comment caught Leonard unprepared, and he almost laughed but could see by Adrian’s troubled face his difficulty at expressing the fact. Leonard answered softly.
“And?”
Adrian looked up at him.
“And I thought you ought to know. I don’t normally tell people outright, although I don’t hide the fact, either. But then I don’t usually share hotel rooms with friends. Straight friends, I mean…"
Any Day Page 8