The Homecoming

by Rosie Howard

  Ben waited.

  ‘Weeell …’ she added, realising she was going to have to give him something: ‘It’s probably nothing, but … do you think there’s something else going on with the pub? I just got the impression when I saw Patrick. He’s got something on his mind, don’t you think? Apart from the lease renewal thing, of course.’

  Ben considered, staring into his coffee mug. He knew he was being brushed off. Diverted. But that was fine. He could play that game.

  ‘The lease renewal is a legitimate concern,’ he said slowly. ‘Plus, he’s tried not to let on, but – to be honest – I think he has been feeling increasingly unwell for a while …’

  ‘Of course. There’s probably nothing else. It’s just …’ She thought some more, not sure where to start. ‘Something about the takings in the bar isn’t quite right. I think that’s what it is. I’m nervous about Kevin. Can’t put my finger on it and, God knows, I’m reluctant to make accusations. I just wondered if Patrick had ever confided any doubts about him to you at all?’

  ‘He hasn’t, but I wouldn’t expect him to, really. He knows he can’t run the pub without Kevin, although I don’t think he likes him much either. I think we need to find out more about the lease renewal situation, though. We might discover something that would set Patrick’s mind at rest, even if it means talking to the obnoxious Dennis. I don’t mind doing it with you if it helps?’

  ‘It’s incredibly kind of you to get involved.’

  ‘You keep saying that,’ replied Ben with a hint of irritation. ‘As if I’m doing more than one might expect. As if you can’t think why I’m doing it.’

  ‘I don’t know you,’ explained Maddy. ‘Why would you help me? Us?’

  ‘Patrick is a friend. A good friend.’

  She finished off her toast and croissant obediently, feeling mildly chastised, while Ben drank his coffee.

  He looked at his watch. ‘I’m pretty sure Patrick will be in the recovery room soon, and then you can see him.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I didn’t want him to wake up on his own,’ said Ben, ‘but, now you’re here, to be honest I could do with getting back to college. I didn’t quite manage to sort out all my lecture notes yesterday, plus I’ve got an awful lot of essays to mark and tutorials all afternoon. I’ll drop by the pub for a report on how he is later.’ He stood and patted her on the shoulder by way of farewell.

  Maddy felt bereft when he had gone, her memory clinging to the weight of his hand on her shoulder long after he had disappeared.

  Standing slowly and a little stiffly, she walked, yawning, to the recovery area waiting room and was immediately beckoned through by a theatre nurse in green scrubs.

  ‘He’s just waking up.’ She smiled kindly at Maddy as she ushered her into a high, light room filled with lines of beds and equipment. ‘Everything went really well,’ she added, as Maddy approached the bed where he lay.

  Patrick’s always elegant but now even skinnier frame seemed barely to disrupt the flatness of the thin blanket and sheet that covered him. There were tubes that Maddy tried to ignore, a monitor beeping above him and a mask on his face. He was flat on his back, his arms and legs arranged tidily like a corpse.

  ‘Patrick?’ whispered Maddy, reaching for his hand.

  His eyes opened and he turned his head to look at her.

  ‘Helen,’ he croaked, his eyes filling with tears. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Maddy’s eyes filled in sympathy. ‘Patrick,’ she said. ‘It’s me, Maddy. Everything’s fine. You’re fine.’ But he seemed to have gone back to sleep. She squeezed his hand and he opened his eyes again.

  ‘Helen, I’ve been such a fool … such a fool. I’ve done everything all wrong …’

  Maddy was distraught. ‘Patrick, please don’t,’ she said. ‘Everything’s fine. They say the operation went well. You’ve done nothing wrong at all …’

  The kind theatre nurse touched her on the elbow. ‘He’s very woozy. You won’t get a lot of sense out of him, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Should he be so confused, though?’ panicked Maddy. ‘Is there something wrong?’

  The theatre nurse smiled. ‘They often do that. The number that come out calling their wife by their mistress’s name – that causes ructions, I can tell you … Do you know who this “Helen” is?’

  ‘I’m guessing he means my mum. That’s her name and we do look a bit alike. Can’t imagine why he’s apologising to her, though. As far as I’m aware they haven’t even seen each other since before I was born.’

  ‘There, look, he’s sound asleep. If I were you I’d let him rest. He’ll go up to the intensive care unit until they’re happy with him and be back on the ward before you know it.’

  He did seem to be sleeping peacefully now, a slight smile on his pallid face. He resisted as Maddy withdrew her hand. She waited, anxiously, until his face relaxed once more and then tiptoed away.

  Later, back on the ward, Patrick was furious with himself. Properly awake now he gazed miserably out of the window, remembering his confusion in recovery all too well. Poor Maddy, listening to him drivelling on at her about her mother. That was the last thing she needed at the moment. He was a soppy old fool. In all the time he had cared for her when she was studying – surreptitiously, not interfering – he made sure to resist the temptation to interrogate her about Helen; how she was, what she was doing, even who she was with – if anyone …

  He adored watching Maddy too, the way she walked, the way she threw her head back when she laughed. He could see Helen in her so strongly it was almost like a physical pain. It was a gift Helen had given him, letting him have just a tiny part in Maddy’s life, a little glimpse of the woman he had stupidly driven away because of his idiotic behaviour. And then he had let Helen down again, allowing Maddy – her precious daughter – to be hurt … He deserved to be cast out of their lives. And now, with death potentially hovering, he felt desperate – not to make amends, as that probably wasn’t possible – but at least to say sorry. Properly. Face-to-face. After twenty-five years it was the least she deserved and he needed to know it was done.

  ‘Penny for them?’

  ‘Hetty, darling.’ He turned from the window, his face instantly transformed by a charming smile. ‘I was simply wondering when one of you marvellous angels of mercy was going to bring me a cup of tea. And now you have, I’m a happy man.’

  After the lunchtime session, Maddy made herself a cup of coffee so strong it tasted like boiled rubber tyres. Steeling herself, she put a call through to Top Taverns and spoke to Tracey, the woman Dennis grandly referred to as his PA, but whom Maddy happened to know was simply an admin assistant for about six of the regional managers and barely did anything to help Dennis on account of disliking him so much.

  ‘Rather you than me,’ Tracey remarked cheerfully as she assured Maddy that Dennis would visit the Havenbury Arms the following morning to discuss the lease renewal. ‘Any excuse to keep him out from under my feet is fine by me,’ she added as Maddy thanked her.

  She then settled down to do the ordering but, even with the strong coffee, she found herself slumping into a doze, waking suddenly, her head on a pile of invoices, with barely twenty minutes until she had to open for the evening.

  The bar was busy again, and the evening flew. It was only when she was totting up the till – another decent night – that she remembered Ben had mentioned dropping in and felt a pang of disappointment that he hadn’t.

  She was just putting the last glasses back on the shelf and trying not to think about the emails waiting for her to answer upstairs when there was a gentle tap at the door.

  ‘Closed!’ she shouted. The tap came again, more insistently. She peered through the patterned glass of the door, making out a tall, broad-shouldered figure. Her heart raced and her fatigue vanished as she went to unlock the bolts again.

  ‘I thought you weren’t coming,’ she said, as she let Ben in.

  ‘I thought I wasn’t coming too. I d
idn’t want to rock up so late but I decided it was better than not showing up at all. You look done in.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she replied with a wry grin. ‘You say the sweetest things.’ She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face, tired as she was.

  ‘So,’ he replied slowly, swinging a chair down off the table and setting it onto the floor for her before doing the same for himself. ‘I saw him. He’s doing “as well as can be expected”’ – he shrugged – ‘but he was still quite confused and out of it. He seemed to want to see someone called “Helen”. Whoever that is. Do you know?’

  ‘My mum; at least I assume that was who he meant. We look a bit alike, despite the obvious age difference. But he hasn’t seen her for years. They fell out over something; I don’t really know what. Why?’

  ‘Do you think she might be prepared to come down and see him?’

  ‘God, I don’t know. I suppose she might,’ replied Maddy, confused. ‘She knows he’s ill …’

  ‘He’d be more settled, maybe,’ Ben suggested, ‘and that can only help his recovery …’

  ‘I’ll call her. She can get the train and stay here, there are plenty of bedrooms.’ She sighed. There were indeed bedrooms upstairs, but it was going to take a fair bit of work to make one comfortable for her mother. Another job to add to the growing list.

  ‘Go in tomorrow morning and tell him,’ suggested Ben. ‘That’ll cheer him up.’

  ‘Can’t. Got Dennis coming in to talk about the lease before I open up for lunch.’

  ‘Have you now? Would it help if I came in and helped you set up? You can’t do both at once.’

  Maddy was tempted. ‘No, it’s fine. I’ll manage.’

  ‘If you’re sure,’ said Ben, standing up and replacing the chair on the table. ‘Now. Are you done here?’ he asked, looking around the bar.

  ‘More or less.’

  ‘You really do look exhausted, Maddy.’ He gave her a penetrating look that made her intensely conscious of her shiny face and unwashed hair, scraped back into a ponytail. The circles under her eyes were so deeply etched she could even see them in the blurry reflection of the darkened windows.

  ‘I just need a good night’s sleep.’ She tried to smile at him, but her lips wobbled.

  ‘Okay, well, make sure you get one,’ he said.

  After Ben had left, Maddy went upstairs and brewed herself a revoltingly strong instant coffee. Her heart raced as she waited for her laptop to boot up and collect all her emails. It was worse than she thought. There was a message from their contact at Adams and Quinn, politely informing her that they had been impressed by ‘elements’ of her submission but that they were planning ‘at this time’ to invite proposals from other consultancies.

  Fair enough. She wouldn’t have engaged herself either. Simon would be furious. Yep, here was a message from him. Typically, he ranted about their having wasted their time giving out free ideas for them to use without giving him, Simon, any money for thinking them up. On the other hand, Maddy was always too keen – he said – to overdeliver before any money had changed hands. This time, he had been right.

  She sighed. Simon hadn’t responded to their email and she was blowed if she was going to look rude as a result of sour grapes. She quickly formulated a regretful and brief reply, inviting them to contact her again at any time in the future if she could be of any assistance. Pressing send, she noticed the time and groaned. Sending emails at nearly two in the morning didn’t look dedicated, it looked desperate.

  She checked through and dealt with several others and then allowed herself a quick look at Serena’s draft business plan, which she’d agreed to help with. It was all looking fabulous and Serena’s ideas were great – all she had to do was get down a few of the marketing strategies. The website was vital …

  Next thing she knew it was four in the morning.

  In bed at last, Maddy lay on her back with her eyes pinned open. Her heart pounding and brain racing, she stared at the ceiling, endlessly turning over problems in her mind until she fell asleep, exhausted, just as the sky was beginning to turn from navy to indigo.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Her head was throbbing before she even opened her eyes barely three hours later and black coffee didn’t improve matters. She couldn’t face breakfast. Just as she was dragging the hoover out there was a tap on the locked door of the bar.

  ‘You again?’ she said, secretly pleased when she saw it was Ben. ‘People will begin to think you’ve got a drink problem, the amount of time you spend trying to get in here when the bar’s closed. You were sweet to offer your help last night, but I really am fine.’

  ‘Forgot you turned me down. Must be the alcohol-related memory loss. Anyway, I thought I’d better bring you some breakfast,’ he added, presenting a greasy paper bag.

  ‘Not hungry,’ said Maddy, but when she smelt the bacon roll her mouth watered. Maybe just half … ‘Actually, it is good you’re here. I’ve got to get the cleaning done in double-quick time so I can meet Dennis. If you help I think we can crack it.’

  ‘Do you want me to stay for the charming Dennis too?’ asked Ben. ‘Give you a bit of moral support?’

  She wavered. Her pride said she wanted to deal with Dennis on her own and these were sensitive business issues, after all. On the other hand, another set of ears would be handy … and Ben was Patrick’s friend.

  ‘Yes please,’ she admitted, ‘but first tell me why on earth you were here talking to Dennis about buying the pub when I arrived. I’m not at all sure we’re on the same side.’

  ‘Fair point,’ said Ben. ‘As it happens I was just sniffing around trying to find out what had happened to Patrick when Dennis arrived. As he’s so extraordinarily self-important and narcissistic, the fact that he turned up with selling the property clearly on his mind manifested into assuming I was there to buy it.’

  ‘So he seriously asked you if you wanted to buy it?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘And you said “yes”?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘So you lied.’

  ‘I prefer to think of it as “going along with his agenda in order to further explore his reality”.’

  ‘Do a lot of that in your line of work, do you?’

  ‘Quite a bit.’

  ‘Okay, so, there’s to be no encouraging the little squirt to get ideas in his head this morning, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Right-o,’ agreed Ben, relieving Maddy of the hoover and switching it on, killing further conversation.

  Maddy gave Ben a long look, unobserved. It was too easy to rely on his help – God knows she could do with an ally – but she wished she had overhead more of his conversation with Dennis that day. Just to be sure she knew whose side he was really on.

  ‘Ah, how nice,’ came a smug voice from the open doorway, ‘a welcoming committee.’

  Maddy turned with something approaching a snarl on her face.

  ‘Dennis, good morning.’ Ben leapt forward to shake his hand, giving every impression of being delighted to see him and buying her a chance to compose herself.

  ‘Let me get the kettle on,’ he continued. ‘Dennis, what’s yours? Tea or coffee?’

  ‘There’s no milk,’ said Maddy crossly. She didn’t see why he should have anything.

  ‘Yes there is,’ said Ben, annoyingly. ‘I bought some, just in case,’ he added, magicking a pint of milk from his rucksack.

  By the time Ben had solicitously provided tea all round and sorted out the issues of milk, sugar and even biscuits, which he also had in his rucksack, extraordinarily enough, she had overcome the tremors of rage and nerves – she wasn’t sure which – that had overcome her when Dennis had arrived.

  ‘So,’ said Maddy, ‘as you know, Patrick has asked me – us – to cover for him for a brief period while he continues to recover. To do that I – I mean, we – thought it was important to understand precisely what this upcoming lease renewal consists of so we can make sure everything goes through smoothly.’ She was determin
ed to coolly give the impression there was no doubt about renewal.

  Dennis wasn’t convinced.

  ‘That’s all lovely, Maddy,’ he said, dabbing his pursed, red lips with a paper napkin. ‘But I am sure Patrick will have brought you up to speed with the difficulties we are facing. The lease renewal is far from a done deal, as I am sure you know.’

  Maddy was at a loss, but luckily Ben stepped in. ‘Of course, Dennis,’ he said confidently, ‘we are fully apprised but – nonetheless – I wonder if you would indulge us by running through the detail from Top Taverns’ perspective.’ He smiled, coolly. ‘Maddy and I are keen to represent Patrick’s interests in his – brief – absence and it’s important that we have full disclosure from you to ensure we have the most accurate picture possible.’

  Dennis blinked, and then looked enquiringly at Maddy.

  ‘Yeah,’ she muttered. ‘What he said.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Dennis, shuffling papers importantly. ‘You’ll have seen this, of course,’ he said, waving a wodge of paper with ‘Lease Agreement’ written on the top of the first page. Ben quietly grabbed it and started scanning through. ‘So,’ continued Dennis, ‘you’ll know that Patrick had a ten-year lease, which ends on the first of January next year?’

  ‘Ten years?’ queried Maddy. ‘That can’t be right. He’s been running the Havenbury Arms for longer than that – from what he’s always told me it must be coming up to twenty years or so now.’

  Ben nodded in agreement.

  ‘Of course,’ agreed Dennis. ‘But Top Taverns only bought the pub ten years ago. Prior to that it was owned by a small freeholder with an interest in just a handful of pubs. It was bought as a job lot, as I understand it, when the owner’s business went bust.’

  ‘I never knew that,’ muttered Maddy, looking at Ben for reassurance. ‘But Patrick has always paid a fair rent, whoever he was paying it to, surely?’

  ‘Depends what you call a “fair rent”,’ said Dennis, clearly disapproving of the concept of ‘fair’. ‘If I’d been in charge then I’d certainly have set the terms somewhat differently …’