Any Day

by Brian Lancaster

  “I know what you mean. And that’s not the issue. It’s whether I have the time to take on a new project.”

  Adrian watched as Lenny went over to the bathtub and turned on a tap, then checked the connection to the shower over the tub. Satisfied, he sat down on the edge and critically surveyed the whole room. Right at that moment, the ringtone of the song Master and Servant by Depeche Mode sounded on Lenny’s phone. Even before he pulled out his phone from his jeans pocket, his eyes went to Adrian and briefly rose to the ceiling.

  “Mother.”

  Adrian carried on looking around the room while Lenny took the call. He ran a hand over the pipes from the ceiling to the lavatory. Whoever had initially plumbed in the bathroom had not been professionals. Pipes ran outside the walls and along the floor, roughly painted over, with nothing concealed. While checking the work, Adrian couldn’t help listening in to the call. After a while, he got the gist of the conversation. The aunt had been on the phone, pestering his mother about the farmhouse that was not a farmhouse.

  “For heaven’s sake, Mum. I’ve only just got here. Today is the first opportunity we’ve had to check the house over.”

  Adrian opened the wall cupboard in the corner which probably housed towels and other toiletries. A layer of dust covered all the shelves. They would need plenty of cleaning materials if Lenny decided to renovate.

  “Well, if I’m going to be honest, I’m leaning more towards keeping rather than selling. Not only is it beautiful, but I know Dad used to come here for holidays as a kid. A lot of work is going to be needed, but I think it could turn out to be a good little investment.”

  Adrian smiled his agreement. Even the windows—lead-framed and cracked in places—could probably do with updating, but the potential was without doubt. The electrics would also need a thorough inspection, not something Adrian could do, but there was bound to be someone locally they could employ. Or better still, he could bring one of his reliable contacts from Norwich down for the week once they had gutted the place. Adrian could hear Lenny getting agitated by something his mother was saying.

  “She said what?”

  A moment passed before Lenny spoke again.

  “Listen. If she keeps pestering you, stop answering her calls or give her my number. I’ll be more than happy to speak to her if it means avoiding solicitors getting involved.”

  Adrian sat on the lid of the toilet and made no pretence about listening to the conversation.

  “Fine. In which case I have my own solicitor. One I’ve been using for years.”

  Once again a short silence ensued, during which Lenny caught Adrian’s eyes and mouthed a quick ‘sorry’.

  “Then you can tell her from me that the place is mine to do with what I want. If that means putting it up for sale or donating it to charity, then that’s what I’ll do. And if she really wants to start legal action, then please tell her to go right ahead. But she’d better bring her best game and get herself top representation. Because believe me, Mum, I will. As Dawson quite correctly stated, she’s going to have a rough time if she does down that route. Okay. Got to go. Bye, Mum.”

  After a few moments of thought, he turned to Adrian and thrust his phone away into his pocket. A fierce determination had replaced the usual calm expression, a look Adrian had never seen on Lenny’s face before.

  “Would you come down here and help me? I mean, would you be prepared to give me a quote on what needs to be done and work alongside me to do the renovations? Maybe provide me with some of your ideas and suggestions about how I could improve the place?”

  “I’d be honoured. And I’ve already got some ideas of things you could do to modernise this place without losing its uniqueness. I’ll make a few sketches when I get back. But right now, I’m going to fetch my notepad from the truck. Then we can continue making a list of what needs to be replaced and where any structural changes need to be made.”

  “Good idea,” said Lenny, levelling his gaze at Adrian. “You’d think finding family you never knew you had would be a good thing. But it turns out my father was a better judge of character than I ever appreciated. And fuck it, not only for him, but for me, too. I’ve just this second made up my mind. I’m keeping Bryn Bach.”

  Chapter Nine

  Confession

  During their assessment of each room, and with a new resolve, Leonard felt a growing connection to the house. Adrian’s continued enthusiasm and ideas for improvement helped. But knowing Leonard’s father had holidayed there during his childhood, had probably spent happy, innocent days playing in the garden and going for local hikes, he felt an affinity with the place. Even the knowledge that a cousin had taken his life in one of the bedrooms did not deter him—it only made him more curious about a relative he had never known. According to Mrs Llewellyn, Luke had been at his happiest in Wales, in this house. And even though Leonard mentioned nothing to Adrian, the suicide note had left something of a mystery, one he wanted to try to solve.

  Back downstairs, Adrian stood inside the arched door to the kitchen, his big hands on the hips of his blue overalls, surveying the walls and décor. Leonard admired his solid frame and quiet strength, the way he had effortlessly ripped up part of the linoleum before gently smoothing the palm of his bare hand along the surface to check the state of the floorboards, how he quickly and single-handedly hefted the king-sized mattress from the bed in the back bedroom before carefully positioning the stained mess against the wall. Strength and grace, traits Leonard found incredibly attractive.

  “Let me just say right now that if for some batshit-crazy reason you decide to keep this kitchen as is, in another decade or two the design might—just might—become fashionable again.”

  Leonard snorted quietly and watched as Adrian went over and gently tugged open one of the lower cupboard doors, which instantly came away in his hand, the hinges rusted and broken.

  “Or maybe not.”

  “Careful, cowboy. That’s my kitchen you’re destroying.”

  “And here’s me thinking you had taste. It’s only the top hinge. I can soon fix that back in place.”

  Adrian’s humour kept him grounded. Admittedly, the kitchen had probably been left untouched for decades. Dull teal units with their stubborn doors, grease-speckled orange and brown kitchen tiles and sticky linoleum flooring of lemon and lime diamonds might have been tasteful for somebody once—but not anymore, and not for Leonard. He swore he felt a migraine coming on every time they stepped into the room.

  “No, leave the door. And jot this down on your list. The whole kitchen needs ripping out. I’m thinking maybe we even take this wall down and open up the kitchen into the main living area. Lose the corridor altogether and put in a countertop island. What do you think?”

  “I’d need to see the original floor plans to check if we’re affecting any load-bearing walls,” said Adrian. “But I don’t think that would be a problem. And then you could put four-panel full-height sliding doors where the French doors are right now, open up the whole back of the house onto the patio, make the most of the view. You could brick up the back door in the kitchen leading into the garden then, use the space for kitchen units. There will be plenty more light coming into the house.”

  “Exactly what I’m thinking.”

  Strange really, but Adrian came up with ideas almost the instant a similar thought entered Leonard’s head. They were most definitely on the same page.

  “And promise me you’re going to remove this plywood panelling either side of the fireplace,” said Adrian. “Get the place back to its original setting. Every time I look, the eyesore makes me cringe. I’ll bet money the chimney breast is either red brick or local flint that’s been plastered over.”

  Adrian pointed out a spot by the fireplace, beside the picture rail, where panelling had split from the wall.

  “And it looks as though the plywood is coming away already up there. Want me to yank that off now?”

  “Steady on, Wreck-It Ralph. Let’s wait until we hav
e the right tools.” When he peered over, Adrian had turned to look at him curiously. “I imagine when we come back next time there’ll be plenty of mess to clear away. Let’s not make any just yet. Hey, listen. In case I didn’t make it clear, I want us to work on this project together on my spare weekends. I’d love to be able to clear a few weeks straight so we could just plough on, but I’ve been away from the business far too long already. And I’m going to need your guidance on what I can and can’t do structurally. Other than that, we work alongside each other. Of course, I’ll pay you, but I wanted to check you’re okay with that?”

  “Don’t you want me to come down and keep things going during the week?”

  “Not unless there are skilled jobs that I can’t so. I want to be here to see the place transform with my own eyes, and know I’ve been a part of the renovation. Does that make sense?”

  “As I said before, you’re the boss, so you call the shots. I’m going to need professional help with some areas, such as taking down the wall between the living room and the kitchen and checking over the electrical wiring. Maybe I could do that on a weekday?”

  “Absolutely. Just give me a heads-up. I’ll get you a spare set of keys cut. And I need to come back to Drayton to tie up a few things with my mother next weekend, so maybe we can meet up again and drive here together. Now what about the staircase? Does that need repairing or replacing?”

  “Are you kidding? That staircase is a work of art. Let’s go check it out again.”

  On the way back to the stairs to the upper floor, Adrian pointed out the low rise and how stable the staircase was, no noticeable creaks or wobbly bannisters. Adrian had called it right. The essential structure of the place, at least, had been built by artisans, built to last.

  “Beautiful piece of craftsmanship,” said Adrian, once again verbalising Leonard’s thoughts. “All we need is to sand off the paint, take everything back to the original wood and either treat the surface or maybe use a light varnish. And definitely get rid of that threadbare stair carpet.”

  Upstairs, at the back of the house, the bedroom overlooking the overgrown garden had a fantastic view of the countryside. Even on that bleak and stormy day, the scene through the large sash window took Leonard’s breath away. Like the rest of the house, the room needed redecorating and furnishing, with only a simple mat on the floor and cast-iron double bed frame.

  “I can’t believe there’s no other bedroom furniture. Do you really think your relatives put things into storage?”

  “As I said, I have no idea. I might phone my mother, get her to ask my aunt. The way things are at the moment I don’t want to talk to her unless I really need to. But I’m guessing they either didn’t have any furniture—they only ever came here for short holidays—or gave what they had away if nobody was using the place. Based on the state of the kitchen and bathroom, I’m not sure I’d have wanted to keep anything they had anyway.”

  At some point, Leonard would need to buy furniture—or maybe choose from his online antique store—and perhaps arrange to have some sympathetic built-in storage included in the renovation. The same story applied to the two other bedrooms, the large one at the front and the small box room.

  “Can I suggest that when we come back next weekend we stay here in the house?” said Adrian, out of the blue. “Get a feel for the place. If you’re coming to Drayton anyway, maybe you could purchase a couple of new mattresses online from the big department store in Norwich. If I bring my truck next time, we can chuck them in the back for the drive down, then we can sleep in the house. I know it’s not exactly five-star, but the bathroom works fine, the electricity’s running—although we’ll need to bring a couple of bulbs to replace those not working in the bathroom and the hallway. We’ll also need some sheets and bedding. Downstairs is going to be a mess if we start down there—which would be my recommendation—so I suggest we bring the bare minimum. What do you think?”

  “Sounds like you’ve got it all under control.”

  Adrian insisted they drag all three old mattresses downstairs near the front door, ready to put them in his truck for when they returned. They could dump them wherever local folk were allowed to dispose of unwanted items. Mrs Llewellyn at the pub would know.

  While Leonard tested the water pressure in the bathroom and kitchen, Adrian managed to find a wooden stepladder in the old shed in the back garden and insisted on climbing into the loft space to examine the condition of the joists and rafters and check for leaks in the roof. Happily reporting back with good news, the loft only housing more dust and cobwebs, they continued the exploration of the house until the afternoon sun began to wane.

  “Right,” said Leonard, finding Adrian on his back on the floor of the kitchen, inspecting the water pipes. The man loved to get his hands dirty. “We’re done here. I suggest we head back to the hotel and shower. And then I’m going to treat you to dinner at a steakhouse in town, one I found on my phone, a short walk from the hotel. My way of saying thank you.”

  Adrian seemed almost disappointed at having to stop working. Leonard noticed how animated and immersed he became when engaged in one task or another—a man in his element.

  * * * *

  The Italian steakhouse—a recently opened bistro with young inexperienced waiting staff, but a top-class chef—provided the perfect end to a long day. Leonard treated them to dinner and even ordered a nice bottle of Italian red. Adrian started with his usual pint of local beer but seemed to enjoy the wine, especially when Leonard held the bottle before him and began to inform him about the wine region. Abruzzo sat on the east coast of Italy, the red being a bottle of Montepulciano d’Abruzzo. He explained how the distinctive combination of blackberries and earthiness was believed to perfectly complement pasta and red meats. After only a few minutes, Adrian tumbled Leonard when he noticed him reading from the back label of the bottle.

  During the meal, Adrian continued to enthuse about the house, the improvements Lenny should make to the property, and frankly, Leonard enjoyed listening to him.

  “Honestly, Lenny, I’m with you all the way. Open up the kitchen into the main living area by taking out the corridor and make the whole place more communal. And that bathroom is huge. You’ve got enough space to install a decent-sized bath and a separate shower. I can visualise it already.”

  By the time they had finished the wine and Leonard had been brought a plain coffee—Adrian preferring another bottle of beer—and their cheesecakes arrived, Leonard felt nicely relaxed. He noticed Adrian leaning back in his chair, sated, curiously eyeing Leonard.

  “So come on. What’s your story, Lenny? Married? Kids?”

  Leonard stopped attacking the dessert and placed his fork down next to his plate to give Adrian his full attention.

  “Do you know, you’re the only person in the world who calls me Lenny.”

  Adrian’s good-natured grin dissolved when no humour showed in Leonard’s face.

  “You don’t like it? Why didn’t you say?”

  “It’s not that I don’t like it, so much. That particular version of my name brings back bad memories, that’s all. Especially coming from you.”

  Leonard watched as Adrian drank from his pint, his confused gaze still peering inquisitively over the rim. Leonard decided the time had come to confront him.

  “When we were at school, do you remember calling me ‘Gay Lenny’? During my first week? You made the other kids around you laugh.”

  Adrian appeared baffled, clearly taken by surprise, his eyes darting away as he tried to search his memories. Eventually he brought his gaze back to Leonard and shook his head.

  “I don’t remember. That was a long time ago. Are you sure about this?”

  Leonard nodded. Some things in his childhood he could never forget.

  “During my first ever assembly. When the teachers were calling out names from the register. Mr Jennings called—”

  “No, wait. Yes, I do remember. The first time I ever saw you. Teachers used to call the na
mes in reverse order, yes? So instead of Leonard Day, he called you Day, Leonard. And I thought he’d called you Gay Leonard, so I frowned at him and said ‘Gay Leonard’? I honestly thought he’d made a mistake. But of course, the idiots I used to hang around with thought I was cracking a joke. Jennings immediately told us to be quiet. Was that why you gave me the stink-eye every time I walked past you?”

  “All those friends of yours called me Gay Lenny for the whole of the first term—”

  “I don’t remember—”

  “Never when you were around, now I come to think of it. But even boys in my year, ones I didn’t know, called me the same thing. It became a standing joke, the way kids pick up on stupid things like that.”

  “Oh my God, Lenny—uh, Leonard. I had no idea. If I had known, I would have told them to shut their mouths.”

  Instinctively, Leonard knew the truth of his words. The Adrian he had recently grown to know could never be inherently nasty or vindictive. Being so was simply not in his nature. Throughout the years, he had thought Adrian to be the culprit, the ringleader. In reality, he had simply misheard one of the teachers—an interesting lesson in how a simple misunderstanding in youth can form a lifelong perception.

  “Yeah, I know you would have. And it’s okay. You still get to call me Lenny. I’ve grown to like hearing the sound of it. And to be honest, after that first term, I used to ignore the idiots at school. Kept myself very much to myself.”

  “And you’ve been holding that in all these years? I always thought you didn’t like me because of me being part West Indian.”

  “What?” Leonard felt genuine shock at Adrian’s words. “Of course not. I’m not like that.”

  “That’s what everyone says—”

  “Ade! I’m really not. It’s because you labelled me at school. Unwittingly, it seems. And honestly, I should have let it go by now, but seeing you in the pub when I returned to Drayton brought everything back.”