The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper(16)

“I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I...just kind of wanted to see you. Your neighbor, the one who loves his lawn, said he’d seen you with a suitcase.”

“He’s right. I’ve decided to visit Graystock Manor. It’s the place where the tigers live, in Bath.”

“I’ve heard of it. But, Dad...”

“Bernadette and her son, Nathan, were headed that way and asked me to join them.”

“And you wanted to go...?”

“Well, Nathan is looking at universities. I’m, er...well, I thought it would be a change.”

Lucy closed her eyes. Her father wouldn’t even have a cup of tea with her if it wasn’t scheduled and now he had taken off with his flame-haired neighbor. He had been holed up in the house for a year. She sensed there was something not quite right about this sudden trip, that her father was keeping something from her. “It’s a long way to go on a whim.”

“It’s got me out of the house.”

Lucy had worried that her father might be vulnerable living on his own. The newspapers were awash with stories about gullible pensioners. Now she didn’t know what to think. Why had he agreed to go with Bernadette all the way to Bath when she couldn’t get him to go to the garden center for a potter around the bedding plants? She tried to control anxiety from coming through in her voice. “When are you coming home?”

“I don’t know what time I’ll be back. I’m at a bed-and-breakfast now, and then off to Graystock tomorrow. Anyway, I have to go now, darling. I’ll give you a call when I get home, shall I?”

“Dad... Dad.” The line went dead. Lucy stared at her mobile.

She was about to ring him back, but then she started to think about his other strange habits, his strict routines. Whenever she saw him he wore that dreadful mustard sweater-vest. He hadn’t phoned her for weeks. He talked to his plant.

She’d never thought of her parents as old until Mum died. But she did now. If her dad could no longer cope on his own, she would have to start looking into home help or even old people’s homes. She wondered how quickly his mind would go.

Her mouth went dry as she imagined helping him upstairs, feeding him, taking him to the toilet. Instead of a baby to look after, she would have her father.

She stood up and her knees wobbled as she walked toward the garden gate. On top of everything else that had gone wrong in her life, she now had to deal with her father succumbing to dementia.





Bed-and-Breakfast


THE BREAKFAST BEING served downstairs at the B and B smelled delicious. At home he and Miriam only ate cereal. If he had toast, then it had to be with Flora margarine rather than Anchor or Lurpak butter. Miriam said that he had to look after his cholesterol, even though the doctor had tested and told him that it was low. Arthur was used to waking and smelling only freshly washed cotton sheets rather than a full English fry-up. This was a treat. But he did feel guilty about his wife not being here to enjoy it, too.

Despite having dropped off yesterday in the car on the way to the B and B, he had slept right through the night. It was the seagulls that had woken him that morning, cawing overhead and tap-dancing on the roof.

After his phone call with Lucy last night, he had felt rather tired. He knocked on Bernadette’s door and asked if she minded if he didn’t join her and Nathan for dinner. An early night beckoned and he would see her the next morning. Bernadette nodded but gave him a look to show she was deeply disappointed in him.

He showered, dressed and shaved and made his way to the breakfast room. It was rather jolly, with yellow wipe-clean tablecloths, silk daffodils and framed seaside postcards on the wall. Bernadette and Nathan were already seated at a table for four by the window.

“Morning,” he said brightly, joining them.

“Nin,” Nathan managed as he poked at the flowers with his knife.

“Good morning, Arthur,” Bernadette said. She reached out and lowered her son’s hand. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a log, actually. And you?”

“I didn’t have a good night. I woke around three and then things started to wander around my mind. I couldn’t stop them.”

Arthur was about to ask what she had been thinking about but a young waitress who wore a smart black skirt and a yellow blouse offered tea or coffee. He noticed that she had an anchor tattooed on one wrist and a rose on the other. This seemed to be a disturbing new trend for young people. He couldn’t understand why such a pretty girl would want to resemble a sailor. Then he scolded himself for being such a fuddy-duddy. Miriam had always encouraged him to be more liberal. “I like your tattoos.” He smiled. “Very nice.”

The waitress gave him a confused smile as if she knew the tattoos looked like they had been done by a toddler with access to a needle and pot of ink. Arthur ordered tea and requested a full English breakfast minus the grilled tomatoes.

He and Bernadette both stood at the same time and walked over to the sideboard on which sat miniboxes of cereal and a glass jug of milk. Arthur picked up Rice Krispies and carried them back. Bernadette picked two boxes of Frosties. “They never give you enough in these little boxes,” she said.

The three of them ate in silence. Nathan looked as if he was about to fall asleep at the table—his head was bowed and his hair almost dangled in his bowl.