The Couple at No. 9(37)
Larry Knight’s house is a red-brick Edwardian detached in one of Leeds’s affluent suburbs with two ball-shaped miniature trees in square metal planters at either side of the black-painted front door.
Theo manages to find a space outside, under a huge shedding cherry tree, its petals already coating the pavement. It’s a beautiful evening: the sun is low in the sky, casting striated ice-cream colours across the horizon, and the road is quiet, apart from the tweeting of birds and the far-off sound of children playing.
It had been a bit of luck, Theo felt, tracking down Larry. After a lot of ringing around he’d finally got hold of a clinic he was listed under, and was told, as he’d expected, that he had retired. Just as he was about to hang up, the receptionist revealed the business was now in the capable hands of Larry’s son, Hugo. He left a message and Hugo called him back to say he’d speak to his father. Then, just a few hours later, Larry rang him and agreed to meet face to face. So here he is now, on this unfamiliar street in Leeds. On a beautiful Wednesday evening.
He’s only a few minutes late but he suspects Larry has been waiting for him because the door swings open before he’s even had a chance to press the bell. An elderly man, who has made up for his receding hairline by growing a white bushy beard, stands on the threshold. He’s wearing a cardigan over a shirt that pulls at the belly. He’s got kind blue eyes that crinkle at the edges when he smiles, which he does the moment he sees Theo. ‘Good gracious,’ he says. ‘You’re the spitting image of your dad at the same age.’
‘Hopefully that’s where the similarity ends.’ Theo laughs to lighten his words.
Larry looks surprised but moves back to allow him over the threshold. Theo stands in the large hallway. The walls are adorned with a vast collection of family photos, all in different sizes but somehow complementing each other. He casts his eye over them. Family holidays in exotic locations; wedding photos; windswept children on beaches in welly boots; grandkids snuggled under checked blankets on squashy sofas; even the family pets are framed. It couldn’t be more different from the house he grew up in where the only photo on the wall is of his dad receiving a golfing award back in 1984.
He turns to the old man, to Larry Knight. He can see why the partnership with his dad didn’t work out. They are polar opposites. Theo feels a sudden pang for what his childhood could have been like if he’d been brought up in this family, with siblings in wellies, building sandcastles on winter beaches, a home full of dogs and cats and guinea pigs and hamsters. A house bursting with love and laughter, not fear and intimidation. A life documented on hallway walls. He wants all this for him and Jen if they’re ever lucky enough to be parents.
Then he thinks of how sad Jen looked when he left her this evening. How she’d sat on the sofa with a hot-water bottle pressed against her stomach, her lovely pale green eyes shining with tears she was trying not to shed. Another period, another chance missed. He hadn’t wanted to leave her but she’d insisted. ‘As long as you bring me back some Maltesers,’ she’d said good-naturedly, as he kissed her goodbye.
‘You have a lovely home,’ Theo says now, meaning it. Two ageing Golden Retrievers with grey whiskers come waddling up to him and he bends to pat them.
Larry smiles in response. ‘Come on, then,’ he says, clapping Theo on the back, like he’s known him for years. ‘Let’s go through to the sitting room. Do you want a cup of tea? Marge,’ he bellows, before Theo’s had the time to answer. An older version of the woman cuddled up to Larry in the photos appears in the hallway. She’s tall with high cheekbones and shoulder-length white hair and looks smart in a silk blouse and navy trousers.
‘This is Theo, Victor’s boy.’
‘Hi, Theo,’ she says, grasping his hand warmly. ‘Good to meet you. Cup of tea?’
Theo says he’d love one, then follows Larry into a cosy room at the front of the house. He perches on the edge of the sofa while Larry sits in an armchair, one of the Retrievers at his feet. The other dog sits beside Theo on the sofa and rests her head on his lap.
Larry chuckles. ‘Bonnie likes you.’
Theo strokes her head. ‘I love dogs. Hopefully one day my wife and I will get one.’
‘Well,’ says Larry, hands on his large stomach, ‘I was surprised to hear from you. I haven’t seen Victor in … gosh … years. How is he doing?’
‘Okay, thanks. He’s retired.’
‘How is your mum? I went to their wedding … What must it have been now? Thirty-five years ago.’
‘My mum … she died fourteen years ago. An accident.’
Larry’s face falls. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. She must have been young.’
‘Yes. Too young.’ Theo swallows. ‘I know it must seem strange, me asking to meet you, but …’ He looks across at the kind-faced man, with the large, happy family, and knows he can be honest. ‘I found something of my dad’s and it’s raised more questions than answers.’
‘Okay.’
‘You and my dad had a clinic together. Back in the 1970s.’
‘Yes, that’s right. A private practice. We worked together for years.’
‘And I was wondering …’ He pauses when Marge comes in with two mugs. He takes one from her, careful to keep it away from Bonnie’s head, which is still resting on his leg.