The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper(17)

After they had finished, the waitress took the bowls and brought over their cooked breakfasts.

“These sausages look really tasty,” Arthur said to Nathan, trying to make conversation.

“Are.”

“You mean, they are,” Bernadette corrected.

Nathan’s face was blank. He speared a full sausage and ate it from his fork. Arthur was sorely tempted to give his foot a kick under the table. He was sure that Bernadette would have taught her son excellent table manners.

“We’re going to look at the first university today. It looks promising,” Bernadette said. “Are you coming with us, Arthur?”

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to head off to Graystock. I’ll take the train to Bristol and change for Bath there.”

“I’m sure it’s only open on Fridays and Saturdays, and today is Tuesday.”

“It doesn’t need to be open to the public. I can knock on the door.”

“I think maybe you should phone ahead...”

He wasn’t in the mood to be told what to do. He was feeling rather single-minded and had made up his mind that he was going to pursue his mission. He cut into his bacon.

“And where shall we pick you up afterward?”

“I can’t ask you to do that. I’ll make my own way home from the manor.”

Bernadette’s face fell a little. “You can’t do that. It will take you ages. We’ve only booked in here for one night.”

“You’ve done enough for me already,” Arthur said firmly. “I shall visit and then see what the day brings.”

“Well, don’t be rash. Ring and let me know. You’re welcome to travel back with us. But I do want to be back for my class.”

“Class?”

“Mum does belly dancing.” Nathan sniggered.

Arthur chewed. An unwelcome image of Bernadette wearing purple chiffon and shaking her hips popped into his head. “I didn’t know that. It sounds, er, energetic.”

“It gives me a bit of exercise.”

Nathan sniggered again.

Bernadette ignored him. “How is your bacon, Arthur?” she asked.

“It’s great,” Arthur said. He was glad that he was going to spend time alone today. Whatever he found out about Miriam should be private. He wanted to be on his own with his thoughts. “I like my bacon nice and crispy. And don’t you worry about me at all. I’ll be just fine visiting the manor on my own.”





The Tiger


BERNADETTE AND NATHAN dropped Arthur off at the Cheltenham train station. He had decided to walk the two miles to Graystock Manor after arriving in Bath.

It had seemed a good idea at the time. The sun was out and the birds were singing. Arthur started off happily, tugging his case across the station forecourt, past the queue of black cabs. From a map he had sketched on a piece of paper, he headed across a small roundabout, then onto a B road that led all the way to the manor house. He felt quite the adventurer, proud with himself that he had taken this decision. He strode forward purposefully.

The pavement soon ran out and he found himself traversing nettles and thistles that prickled his ankles. The ground underfoot was uneven and he wished that he had worn his sturdy brogues rather than his gray suede moccasins. It was virtually impossible to wheel his suitcase across the stones and gravel that pocked the pathway. He alternated between dragging and carrying it along.

“Oi, Granddad.” A shiny red sports car whizzed by and he was sure that someone’s backside hung out of the back window.

After half a mile or so, the pathway narrowed. He found himself wedged between a scratchy hedgerow and a wide, raised curbstone. Unable to manhandle his case any farther, he stopped and stood with his hands on his knees while he caught his breath. The farthest he had walked since Miriam died was to the post office. He was seriously out of condition.

There was a gap in the hedge and he stood and watched a bumblebee. Cows stood, placid and chewing. He admired a red tractor plowing the field. He set off again but there was a pile of bricks and a wire shopping basket in his way. This was the last straw. He couldn’t stand tugging the suitcase any longer. He picked it up and pushed it into the gap in the hedge, then rearranged the foliage back around it.

Looking around he made a mental note of his location. He was opposite a road sign for a car trunk sale this Sunday and there was another sign that said Longsdale Farm 1 Mile. He would carry out his visit to Graystock and then pick up his case on the way back. It was made from sturdy nylon so a stay in the hedge should see it just fine.

He was lighter and quicker now. It was usually Miriam who planned what to take on their trips. The house would become overrun with small piles of things—underwear, his shaving stuff, cookie two-packs and sun cream in every conceivable SPF. He doubted very much if she would be impressed by his stashing of his suitcase in a bush. However, he felt rather pleased with himself. He was being resourceful, making decisions and pushing on.

Graystock was still a way away and he pressed onward, not stopping to admire the bursts of shepherd’s purse that sprung from beneath the hedges or the fields of yellow rapeseed. He refused a lift from a couple of attractive blonde girls who pulled up alongside him in their silver convertible, and also informed a tractor driver that, thanks for asking, but he wasn’t lost. People really were rather pleasant around here and he could forgive the bum-baring incident by the boys in the red car. The sun must have brought out their hijinks.