Seven Days(56)

James laughed. ‘You’re still not cool, Dad. It’d take more than a Cure concert to make you cool.’

‘You might be right.’ He studied his son. ‘Everything OK?’

James’s eyes moistened and he looked away. It took a few seconds for him to reply.

‘Not really.’

‘Me neither,’ Martin said. ’But Mum’ll be OK.’

Martin’s throat constricted. Tears came to his eyes. He put his arms around James. They hugged for a long time, then Martin leaned back. In some ways James might still be an adult but in others he was still his baby son. He would always be his baby son.

‘By the way,’ he said. ‘Mr Best is coming for lunch at two, but that gives us a few hours. Want to go for a pint?’

‘Best’s coming? Why?’

‘Mum bumped into him at the supermarket. She invited him over.’

James rolled his eyes. ‘Today? The day before she goes for chemo? Why?’

‘Because she thought it might be good for him? He’s lonely.’

‘But she goes to the hospital tomorrow!’

‘I know. But I think she needs something to take her mind off things. And he’s not that bad.’

‘He’s weird.’

‘He’s not. And he was a good tutor for you.’

‘I guess. He used to ask all kinds of questions about you and mum. And Maggie.’

‘What kind of questions?’

‘Everything. Your jobs, if you had brothers and sisters, if your parents were still alive, where they lived. All kinds of stuff.’

‘He was lonely, James. And it’ll be nice to see him. Come on. Let’s go and have a beer.’





3


They went to a pub in Thelwall, the Feathered Egg, where they had gone as a family for Sunday lunches. When they got back a few minutes after two p.m. there was a car – a blue Ford Focus – parked on the road outside the house. James recognized it from the times he had been to Best’s house for maths tutoring.

‘He’s here,’ he said. ‘Right on time. I was kind of hoping he wouldn’t make it.’

His dad nodded. ‘Be kind, James.’

He would be. The beer – they’d had two pints – had taken his mind off lunch with Best. It was amazing how it did that, how it put a veil between you and the world. It was also good to be able to go out with his dad for a beer. He was interested to see how many people knew him, and how they all seemed pleased to see him; when his dad had gone to the loo, one guy had leaned over to James and muttered that his dad was a great bloke. James had swelled with pride.

Best was in the living room, sitting on the couch. He had a small glass of white wine. Sandra was opposite him; she had a large glass of water.

‘You’re back,’ she said. ‘Mr Best was asking how James got on with his A levels.’ She looked at James expectantly. ‘So?’ she said. ‘How did you get on?’

‘Great,’ he said. ‘Had a really good time. Results come soon.’

Best smiled. ‘How were your studies? Went well?’

‘Really well. It’s very interesting.’

‘Do you still enjoy maths?’

Had he ever enojoyed maths? He was going to study engineering; it was kind of required.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I really love it. How about you? Are you well?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Best sipped his wine. ‘I’m fine. Nothing much new since I last saw you.’

‘Do you still live near the school?’

‘I do. I doubt I’ll ever move,’ Best said. ‘You get used to a house and it grows up around you. I have certain things I like to do and if I moved I don’t think any other house would meet those needs.’

‘Like gardening?’ James said.

‘Exactly.’ Best nodded. ‘And my darkroom. I still take film photos, even though digital is so much easier. And then there’s all the stuff I’ve accumulated over the years. It all has a place. If I moved I don’t know what I’d do with it all. Not that I need it all. There are things in that house that I acquired years ago and which have never seen the light of day since.’ He shook his head. ‘But we hold on to things, don’t we? Even when we no longer need them, or they’re taking up space we could use for something else, we don’t want to let go.’

James glanced at his dad. He caught his eye.

See, he is weird.

His dad gave a little shake of his head.

‘Another glass of wine?’ he said.

‘Are you having one?’ Best replied.

‘No. James and I went for a walk and ended up in the Feathered Egg, so I think I’ll have a cup of tea for now.’

‘I’ll join you,’ Best said. ‘Tea would be wonderful.’

‘James?’ his dad said. ‘You want tea?’

James nodded. ‘I’ll make it. Milk and sugar, Mr Best?’

‘Milk. No sugar, thank you.’

James walked towards the kitchen. When he reached the door he glanced back into the room. Best was watching him, a wistful, almost longing expression on his face.

He didn’t care what his dad said. Lonely or not, Best was weird.