Of course she would do it. She loved him. But the more she had to commit to looking after her dad, the further her dreams of starting her own family would fade. A woman who lived with her aging dad would hardly be an attractive proposition if she posted a profile on Match.com.
She was sitting in the classroom, marking homework during her lunch break. Year Three were studying the Tudors. She had asked them to draw a scene from Tudor times and had been amazed that over half of the artwork was of executions and decapitated heads. Perhaps she should have asked for pictures of people who were alive instead.
“I’m so proud of you,” her mum had said when Lucy qualified as a teacher. They’d gone out for lunch together and got a bit tiddly on a bottle of wine, before going to Debenhams and testing lots of perfumes. “You’ll look after those children as if they’re your own.”
Lucy still loved her job. It was just that she sometimes felt she spent all her time looking after others. After hours of looking after kids, escorting them to the toilet, helping to cut up sausages, washing paint out of school skirts, helping to track down stray PE pumps, she now had her father to worry about, too.
She’d once thought, in a darker moment, that out of both parents her dad would probably go first. She was sure that her mother would get by. She was self-sufficient and sensible. Her dad on the other hand had a permanently bewildered air about him as if everything was a surprise. He was now acting in a way that she had never imagined.
“Look after Mum and Dad,” Dan had said as he kissed her on the cheek before he boarded his flight to start his new life in Australia. It seemed so easy for him to utter these five words and then disappear to construct his own happy family Down Under.
Relations between Dan and Dad were strained. Dad thought that Dan should stay in York, to keep the Pepper family where it had roots. That he shouldn’t leave Mum behind or allow for his kids to grow up without knowing their grandparents. Lucy phoned Dan to remind him whenever it was Mum’s and Dad’s birthdays. She made excuses to Dad when Dan didn’t call. She sometimes felt like the spider in the middle of the family web, trying to hold all the threads together.
When they were younger, Dan used to hang around with a group of lads from the estate. They all smoked and mooched around the street corners, the local shops, the park—wherever they could have a crafty cigarette and heckle girls who had the misfortune of passing by. When she was eleven Lucy had once seen Dan sitting on the top of the climbing frame. He had a cigarette dangling from his lips and was busy daubing graffiti on the red metal with a black marker pen. He hadn’t seen his sister and her friend Eliza strolling past as he wrote the word bollocks in foot-high bubble letters.
“Is that your Dan?” Eliza asked. She was short and had long black plaits that swung like pendulums.
“I think so.” She had tried to act nonchalant, merely glancing in his direction.
“He is going to get in trouble for doing that.”
Lucy felt a strange mix of admiration and anger at her brother. He was older, in the last year of secondary school. He was hanging out, showing off—and that made him edgy. He had his own secret life away from Mum and Dad that she didn’t have. She had to tell them where she was going and who with and what time she’d be back. Dan could mutter, “I’m going out,” and slam the front door without receiving the third degree.
“Do you know anything about Dan up to no good in the playground?” her dad asked.
“No,” Lucy lied. Her brother had charm and the ability to feign such innocence that if he hadn’t become a motor mechanic, then he would surely have won an Oscar for his acting. What was the point of dropping him in it? “I don’t know anything.”
Afterward she had chastised Dan, who had just laughed and told her not to be such a nerd.
Her brother had confidence and swagger that Lucy yearned for. He left school and set up his own business, contacting the bank, securing premises and buying car parts on his own and without a doubt in his head. He seemed to be able to hone in on a goal and pursue it single-mindedly, without emotion or doubt getting in the way.
Lucy wished she could address her own life and worries like that; that she could get a message from her father saying that he had been attacked by a tiger and think, Oh, well, at least he’s alive. These things happen. That’s how Dan would tackle it.
Sometimes Lucy let the pressure get to her. Too tired to move after a day at school and full of reluctance to phone her father and hear how much he was missing Mum, she would unscrew the top off a bottle of red wine and not bother with a glass while she watched an American crime drama. She rather fancied one of the auburn-haired detectives because he never seemed to mind what life threw at him. He had the same attitude to life as her brother. A corpse in his own garage? No worries. A van full of illegal immigrants killed through an arson attack? He would find who did it.
She stood at the window watching the kids in the playground. Tapping her mobile phone against her chin she thought about her brother. I bet Dan’s sunbathing, she thought. It would be so lovely to live near the beach with the waves crashing up to your front lawn. She’d not made it out to Australia yet but she saw his Facebook photos and always made sure she “liked” them.
She didn’t have a clue what time it was over there when she scrolled to find his number. All she knew was that she had to speak to him. She wanted to hear his take on the situation with their father. He would be practical and have an answer for everything.
A child with an Australian accent answered the phone.
Lucy’s mind whirred. How old were Marina and Kyle now? Old enough to answer the phone, anyway. She still thought of them as babies.
“Oh, hi. Is that Kyle?”
“Yes.”
“Can I speak to Dan. I mean, your dad?”
“Who is it?”
“It’s Auntie Lucy, back in the UK. I don’t know if you’ll remember me...” She tailed off her words when she realized that Kyle had already gone.
She heard Dan’s voice before he picked up the phone. “Who is it, mate?”
“Some lady. I don’t know.”
The phone rattled. “Pepper Car Mechanics.”
“Hello, Dan. It’s me.”
“Lucy?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. It’s good to hear from you. It’s been a while.”
She resisted saying that it had been a while because he never phoned. “I know. A couple of months now.”
“That long? Time flies out here.” Worry then crept into his voice. Lucy welcomed hearing it. “Everything is okay, isn’t it?” he said.
“Kind of. I just thought I’d phone. You know, seeing as it’s a year since Mum passed on.”
“Yeah. I knew it was coming up. I decided to deal with it by keeping busy.”
“The anniversary was last week.”
“Oh. Right. I knew it was close. My plan worked, then.”
Lucy felt a jolt of anger at his joke. Sometimes he had the ability to make her feel eleven again. “I’m worried about Dad,” she said more sharply than she meant to. “He’s been acting rather strangely recently.”
“Why, what’s up with him?”
“Well, he never really leaves the house, only to go to the village. He’s turned into a hermit. He wears the same clothes every day and has got a bit obsessed with this motley fern that Mum used to have. And then, without warning or explanation, he took off on a trip with his neighbor Bernadette. I went ’round to the house and he wasn’t here. He’d traveled down to Bath.”
“That doesn’t sound too much to worry about. He probably forgot to tell you.”
“I don’t think so. It sounded like there was something he wasn’t telling me.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound like him but I suppose it got him out of the house.”
“That�
��s not all. While he was on his travels he says he went to a stately home to see a lord. And I think he said he was attacked by a tiger.”
Dan burst into laughter. “A what?”
“A tiger.”
“Are there any tigers in the UK? Are they not in zoos?”
“I believe this Lord Graystock keeps them in his grounds.”
Dan didn’t speak for a moment and Lucy wondered if he thought that she was the one going crazy. “That sounds really very unlikely,” he said.
“It’s true.”
“Well, that’s great, though, isn’t it? You don’t want him to stay in the house and mope around day in and day out, do you? It shows that he’s starting to enjoy life again.”
Lucy sighed. “Perhaps he shouldn’t be enjoying life again yet. It’s only been twelve months since Mum died.”
“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 electr
ics 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.”
All the time he spoke, Nathan stared at his phone. He wriggled both thumbs on the screen.
Bernadette brought three cups of coffee in. “Are you boys having a nice chat? I’ll make myself scarce, then.”
Arthur stared after her helplessly as she left the room. What could he possibly have in common with this young man? He obviously didn’t want to speak about work or university. In the end he said, “Who on earth is MC Hammer?”
Nathan looked up. “He’s an American rap artist from the eighties. He wore baggy trousers with a low crotch like the ones that you’re wearing. He’s a preacher or holy man now.” He moved his fingers around his phone again, then held up the screen.
The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper Page 9