Aishe lifted her head and stared at him, face streaked with tears. And then she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his lips down onto hers.
It was several minutes before Benedict became aware that they were perilously close to committing an indecent act in someone else’s kitchen.
‘Loath as I am,’ he said, trying to catch his breath, ‘I think we need to stop.’
‘There must be a room with a lock somewhere in this house,’ said Aishe with a scowl.
‘That is seriously bad form,’ said Benedict. As Aishe began to make the obvious suggestion, he added, ‘And no, we can’t leave yet. We haven’t finished the dishes.’
Aishe adjusted her hand in a way that made his knees tremble and his will waver.
But then she said, ‘All right. We’ll be polite for one more hour — and then you’re coming back to my place.’
Benedict frowned. ‘What about Gulliver?’
‘Gulliver can learn life lesson number twenty-three,’ said Aishe.
‘Which is?’
Aishe kissed him. ‘Everyone is having more sex than you are.’
Chad pulled off the pajama bottoms he’d worn in case he encountered his mother in the hallway, and flopped wearily back into bed.
‘Success?’ said Michelle.
‘That pumpkin pie looked just the same out as it did going in,’ he said. ‘Only nowhere near the same smell. And the amount of it. I practically had to hose her down.’ He blew out a breath. ‘But she’s asleep now. Until the next colonic onslaught, at least.’
Michelle wriggled right up to him and lay on her side, her hand resting on his chest. ‘Thanks,’ she said, and kissed his ear.
Chad turned his head. ‘Thank you.’
‘For?’
‘For doing what I hadn’t the nerve to.’
Michelle propped herself upon her elbow so she could look down at him. ‘You don’t mean when I had a shot of that Chinese whisky, do you?’
Chad shook his head. ‘That was insanity, not courage.’
‘Where did that stuff come from anyway?’
‘Jay gave it to Phil for a leaving present. Phil must have quietly stashed it in my briefcase.’
‘Jay’s an arsehole,’ said Michelle. ‘A twenty-four carat sphincter.’
‘Yup,’ said Chad. ‘But at least his choice of whisky was so bad you weren’t tempted to have another.’
‘I was pretty well behaved overall,’ said Michelle. ‘Considering. Patrick drank way more than I did, anyway.’
‘Yeah, but he can hold it,’ said Chad. ‘I liked him. I didn’t get to talk much to our ex-nanny, though.’
‘Well, he was too busy having sex in our kitchen.’
Chad lifted his head. ‘What!’
‘It doesn’t take that long to do dishes,’ said Michelle darkly. ‘They were fornicating. I know it.’
Chad sunk back onto the pillow. ‘You’re crazy.’
He became aware that his wife had gone quiet. ‘You OK?’ he said.
‘Do you still want to go?’ said Michelle.
‘You mean — on the trip?’
‘Because to be honest, I was kind of hoping that bringing your dad here might make you give it up. And at the same time, of course, encourage your dad to stop stockpiling pulses and erecting longboats. Two birds with one stone, as it were.’
‘I think Dad will give up living in the study now. I’m not so sure about the longboat.’
‘Has he always had these tendencies?’ said Michelle with a frown. ‘I mean, it’s one thing to be obsessed with linseed and isotonic contractions, quite another to construct a floating flammable coffin.’
‘Is it?’ said her husband. ‘Maybe it just looks that way from the outside.’
Chad stared up at the ceiling. ‘Personally, I hope he keeps building it,’ he said. ‘And I hope he uses it. If you’re going to go, why not go in a rage of Valhalla-worthy flame?’
‘And you call me crazy,’ said his wife.
Chad rolled on his side, facing her, and ran his thumb down the side of her face. Michelle turned her head quickly to kiss the tip of it.
‘I love you,’ she said.
‘I love you, too.’ Chad ran his thumb gently over her lips. His expression was thoughtful.
‘But I still want to go,’ he said. ‘I want us to go. As a family.’
‘Why?’ Michelle said. ‘I don’t think you’ve given me an honest reason yet.’
‘Haven’t I?’ Surprised, Chad considered this for a moment. ‘No, you’re right. I don’t think I have.’ He smiled at her. ‘You know how I said I admired you for always being so sure about what you wanted? Well, I used to be like that too. I know I may not have come across that way, but I was. I wanted to marry you, I wanted to have our children, I wanted to live in our house — and live that life for the rest of our days.’
‘I wanted that too,’ said Michelle. ‘Exactly that.’
‘I know,’ said Chad. ‘And maybe we could have had it. But then Dad got sick, and—’
‘Oh my God, you freaked out!’ said his wife. ‘Darrell was right.’
Chad frowned. ‘What did Darrell say?’
‘That you’d had a brush with your own mortality, and it gave you the heebies so much you had to run away.’
‘Good to know you two talk about me behind my back.’
‘She’s my best friend,’ said Michelle. ‘There is no aspect of my life about which she is ignorant. By tomorrow, she’ll even know how fat you’ve got.’
‘I’m not fat!’ said Chad. ‘I’ve put on a couple of pounds is all.’
‘You’re a chubster,’ said Michelle with satisfaction. ‘Welcome to the club.’
‘Anyway …’ Chad gave each syllable a pointed emphasis. ‘Darrell wasn’t entirely right. I did not freak out thinking about my death. I freaked out thinking about my life.’
‘How is that different?’
‘All right, maybe it isn’t,’ said Chad. ‘But can you not hound me about it?’
‘I do not hound!’ said Michelle. ‘OK, no, that’s a lie. I’m an Olympic-gold-medal-level hounder. All right,’ she added. ‘I promise to stay off your case. About this, anyway. So carry on — you were freaking out?’
Chad gave her an accusing look, but kept going. ‘For the first time,’ he said, ‘I started to seriously doubt that what I had done with my life was something to be proud of. All of a sudden, I had this urge to do more, to be more — before it was too late.’
‘What did you want to do?’ Michelle said. ‘What did you think was ‘more’?”
‘Well, that’s why I went away for the month.’ Chad screwed up his mouth apologetically. ‘I knew I still wanted you, and the kids — I had no doubt about that. But I had to figure out what else I wanted — or I’d go, as you like to say, bonkers.’
‘And?’
‘And — oh, shit, Mitch. The more I thought about what I wanted to do, the more I realised how much I hadn’t done. It’s such a big world. So please, Mitch.’ He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘Let’s go out there. Let’s see and do as much as we can.’
‘The kids are so young.’ Michelle felt her conviction slipping. ‘They’ll never remember it.’
‘Then we’ll go again,’ said Chad. ‘When they’re older. Why not?’ He smiled at her. ‘Who’s to stop us?’
‘Freakin’ A!’ said Michelle. ‘No one will dare get in our way.’ She blinked. ‘Shit,’ she said. ‘Did I just say yes?’
Chad cupped her face in his hand and kissed her. ‘Yup,’ he said. ‘And now it’s too late to take it back.’
‘Why didn’t you want to talk to your parents?’ Michelle asked, after a few more kisses. ‘Why was that so hard for you?’
Chad’s expression was rueful.
‘I wanted to have something concrete to tell them,’ he said. ‘I wanted to have a plan. I felt like if I talked to them without one, it would be tantamount to lying. Stupid, I know. And cowardly.’
‘No,’ said Mi
chelle. ‘Neither. But it would have been helpful to know all this several weeks ago.’
‘Same problem,’ said Chad. ‘I felt like if I didn’t have a concrete plan, you’d have me by the balls.’
Michelle reached down. ‘You mean like this?’
‘No. But please don’t experiment.’
Michelle shifted her hand upwards and was gratifid to hear her husband stifle a groan.
‘You know we haven’t done this in weeks,’ she said accusingly. ‘I’m expecting dedicated and lengthy foreplay.’
Chad moved his hand up to her breast. ‘Sounds like a plan.’
From a distant bedroom came a cry of ‘Mom-mee!’
‘Christ’s sake!’ said Michelle. ‘That’s Harry. He never wakes up.’
From another bedroom came a screech of a pitch and intensity that made it clear a delayed response was not an option.
‘Freaking hell!’ Michelle glared at the door.
‘Are you sure you want to take these two?’ she said to Chad. ‘Could we not put them in storage?’
Chad swung his legs out of bed. ‘Don’t forget to wear your pajamas,’ he said. ‘If my father catches you naked in the hall, it’ll cost us a fortune to ship the longboat all the way from Charlotte.’
40
‘Are you packed?’ said Patrick, as Gulliver opened the front door to let him in.
‘Yes,’ said Gulliver heavily.
‘You’ll need more than a pair of underpants and an iPod, you know.’
‘I’m packed!’
‘Good to hear.’ Patrick made his way to the kitchen, where he found Benedict.
‘He’s packed, apparently,’ Patrick said.
‘Only because I stood over him and forced him to,’ Benedict replied.
‘Flight doesn’t leave till this afternoon,’ Gulliver thumped down on a kitchen chair. ‘What’s the panic?’
‘So says the seasoned traveller,’ said Patrick. He glanced around. ‘Where’s Aishe? I thought we might go to the café for a bite before we leave. It’ll be my last chance to eat breakfast unsupervised. From now on, I’ll be back to hamster-pellet bran crap and piss-weak skim milk.’
‘She’s, er, upstairs.’ Benedict gave him a pointed look. ‘Getting ready.’
‘Right,’ said Patrick. ‘I’ll pull up a chair then. And you,’ he nodded at Gulliver, ‘can make me a cup of coffee.’
‘Life lesson seventeen,’ said Benedict to an outraged Gulliver. ‘Yes. You are his slave.’
Muttering, Gulliver started to get up. But then his mother appeared in the doorway.
‘Sit down,’ she said to him.
‘Wha—?’ Gulliver spread his hands in disbelief. ‘Is this, like, beat the crap out of Gulliver day?’
‘Just sit,’ said his mother. ‘Or I’ll never be able to do this.’
Patrick and Benedict exchanged a look, and moved quietly towards the rear of the kitchen.
Aishe slid into a chair opposite Gulliver and sat with her spine stiff and straight. Held tightly in her hand was a very battered Polaroid photograph. She frowned down at it and then, as if releasing the pin from a grenade, shoved it hastily across the table towards her son.
‘This is your father,’ she said. ‘I do know his last name. It’s Thorvaldsen. Jonas Thorvaldsen. The rest was the truth. He doesn’t know about you. And I haven’t the faintest idea where he is.’
Gulliver stared at the photo and then turned on his mother.
‘You’re shitting me,’ he said. He leapt to his feet. ‘Holy crap!’ he yelled, and ran out of the room. They heard his feet pounding up the stairs, at least three at a time.
Aishe gazed after him, mouth open. Then she stared at Patrick and Benedict.
‘Was that a bad reaction?’ she said to them. ‘I think I’ve lost the ability to tell.’
But before they could offer an opinion, Gulliver came thumping back down the stairs and rushed into the kitchen, panting, face flushed, with the laptop in his hand.
‘Jonas Thorvaldsen!’ He brandished the computer at Benedict, who caught Aishe’s eye and gave a helpless shrug.
‘Jonas Thorvaldsen!’ Gulliver said again, and wrenched out a chair. ‘Holy crap!’
‘Gulliver,’ said his mother. ‘Seriously — what the fuck?’
Gulliver was bashing away at the keypad. He gave one final, triumphant click and pumped his fist in the air. ‘Fuck yeah!’
Then he swung the laptop around so Aishe could see the screen.
She squinted at the web page. ‘I don’t believe it.’
Unable to contain their curiosity, Benedict and Patrick clustered round.
‘Jonas Thorvaldsen,’ read Benedict. ‘Drummer in Barstad.’ He frowned. ‘Did they play that godawful death-metal music you tortured me with?’
‘He’s famous!’ said Gulliver to his mother. ‘They’re like the biggest thing since, like, Slipknot!’
‘Don’t ask,’ said Benedict, when Aishe raised an enquiring eyebrow.
Patrick had bent down and was peering at the screen. ‘They’re going on tour,’ he said. ‘First stop, Hammersmith.’ He looked at Aishe. ‘Well, now you know where he is. Or at least, where he’s going to be in two weeks’ time.’
‘Hammersmith, where’s Hammersmith?’ Gulliver seized control of the laptop. ‘That’s in London!’ he yelled.
Aishe sank her head briefly into her hands. ‘I’m cursed,’ she said. ‘Someone in our bloody family must have cursed me.’
Gulliver’s shoulders sagged. ‘I can’t go see him without you, though,’ he said to his mother. ‘He won’t believe me.’
‘Gulliver—’ Aishe was struggling for words. ‘He may not even want to see you — you do realise that, don’t you? I mean, how would you feel if your fourteen-year-old son turned up out of the blue?’
‘I’d feel like something had gone seriously wrong with the space-time continuum,’ said Gulliver. Then he hesitated, and in a small voice said, ‘Do you really think he won’t want to see me?’
‘I don’t know!’ Aishe caught herself and softened her tone. ‘Really. I’ve no idea.’
‘But you’ll come and meet him with me, won’t you?’ said Gulliver.
His mother stared at him for a long moment. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’ll come.’
Patrick, glancing at Benedict, did not fail to observe the look of hollow desolation on the younger man’s face.
‘I wouldn’t worry,’ Patrick said to him. ‘He doesn’t actually look like her type.’
‘The love of her life was a three-hundred-pound black man,’ said Benedict with a certain acerbity. ‘I’m not sure either of us will ever measure up to that.’
‘Well?’ Patrick rubbed his hands together. ‘Who’s for huevos rancheros and waffles? My shout?’
‘Have you got time?’ Aishe sounded weary.
‘My arteries might disagree, but yes.’
Patrick laid his hand briefly on her shoulder. ‘Come on, my brave girl,’ he said. ‘As I always like to say, there’s nothing that doesn’t look better after a strong cup of coffee. And, in this case, a side of extra streaky fucking bacon.’
As soon as they entered the café, they were hailed by Michelle, who was there with Chad.
‘Pull up that table,’ she said. ‘Join us!’
‘Where’s the rest of the family?’ said Aishe.
‘Lowell and Virginia have taken the children to the playground,’ said Michelle. ‘Grandparents. They’re freaking awesome!’
Chad was stifling a yawn. Michelle gave him a fond glance.
‘We didn’t get much sleep last night,’ she said. ‘Kids had too much food, too much excitement. But we did have sex,’ she added. ‘So it wasn’t a complete debacle.’
‘Mitch, seriously,’ said Chad. ‘Do you have to?’
‘I don’t know why you even bother to ask that,’ said his wife.
Xavier appeared at the table. ‘I hear you are leaving,’ he said to Patrick, when he’d taken their order. ‘I hope you e
njoyed it here.’
‘How did he manage to make that sound like a threat?’ said Patrick, when Xavier was at safe distance. He frowned. ‘And who told him, anyway?’
‘Small town,’ said Michelle. ‘No, I lie. It was me. He was asking about you,’ she added.
Patrick slid a surreptitious glance over to the counter. ‘Definitely time to go home.’
‘Hola!’ Angel was beaming down at them. ‘Do you have room for three more?’
‘More like two-and-a-half,’ said Malcolm. ‘Ron is undersized.’
‘It’s stress,’ said Ron. ‘I’ll get to die young and thin. At least that’s one thing to look forward to.’
‘Gulliver—’ Patrick nodded at him to help shift over more chairs.
‘Yeah, yeah.’ Gulliver rolled his eyes, but got up quickly enough.
‘Lessons are paying off,’ said Benedict to Patrick.
‘I know the promise of a swift kick in the slats always motivated me,’ Patrick replied.
Aishe frowned at Chad. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be at work?’
‘Yes, I am,’ he said. ‘But they can’t fire me. I have dirt on them.’
‘Really?’ Michelle stared at him.
‘No.’ He gave her a slow smile. ‘But paranoia is such a useful weapon, isn’t it?’
Michelle leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed happily. ‘I love you.’
‘Are you all flying to London today?’ Chad said to Aishe.
Aishe glanced quickly at Benedict. ‘No,’ she said. ‘We’ll go over in a couple of weeks.’
‘Which isn’t a moment too soon for me.’ Benedict made a face. ‘Now that you’ve mentioned paranoia, I should perhaps confess that I am working here illegally.’
‘Don’t worry, señor,’ said Xavier, arriving with the coffee orders. ‘If the immigration police come, I’ll distract them — so you can make your getaway.’
He set down the cups in brisk fashion and left.
‘There’s a deep and disconcerting vein of sarcasm in that lad’s character,’ said Patrick.
‘It is the Spanish in him,’ said Malcolm. ‘They’re a cruel race, the Spanish.’
‘Cruel?’ Angel placed his hand on his heart, as if mortally wounded. ‘We are not cruel. We are tragic!’
The Not So Perfect Life of Mo Lawrence Page 36