The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper(29)

“What do you think of that?”

“I dunno, really.”

Struggling to spark any conversation that seemed to interest the boy, Arthur began to ramble. He found himself telling Nathan that when he was young it was natural to follow in your father’s footsteps. His own father was a locksmith so that was the career path mapped out for him.

“We didn’t call them careers then, though. They were just jobs or trades. I had to do an apprenticeship. It meant working for two years shadowing a locksmith, just standing watching him a lot of the time, not being paid much. He was a good fellow was Stanley Shearing. He always took the time to explain things to me, show me how things worked. I’m not sure that young people have that these days, someone to take an interest in what they do. You seem to get set free in the world, to university and to make your own way in life. I suppose times change. We got married a lot younger in the old days, too. By then I was established in my job so I could bring home quite decent money. We wouldn’t have survived on my apprentice money or a student grant.”

All the time he spoke, Nathan stared at his phone. He wriggled both thumbs on the screen.

Bernadette brought three cups of coffee in. “Are you boys having a nice chat? I’ll make myself scarce, then.”

Arthur stared after her helplessly as she left the room. What could he possibly have in common with this young man? He obviously didn’t want to speak about work or university. In the end he said, “Who on earth is MC Hammer?”

Nathan looked up. “He’s an American rap artist from the eighties. He wore baggy trousers with a low crotch like the ones that you’re wearing. He’s a preacher or holy man now.” He moved his fingers around his phone again, then held up the screen.

Arthur looked at a photo of a black man wearing glasses and voluminous silver trousers. “Ahh,” he said. “So, do you like music?”

Nathan nodded. “Mainly rock. But I like really old stuff, too, like the Beatles.”

“I think I actually have an old Beatles album somewhere. You can have it if you like. It’s a vinyl record, though. You’d need a record player to listen to it.”

“Mum has one in the attic. What is it called?”

“Rubber Soul, I think.”

Nathan nodded. “I have it as a download but it would be good to listen to vinyl. I didn’t think you’d like the Beatles.”

“Miriam liked them more than I did. She was a John Lennon fan. I always appreciated Paul McCartney more.”

“That kind of figures. George Harrison was the coolest, though.”

Arthur edged a couple of inches along the sofa. “Can you look anything up on your phone? Is it like a library?”

“Kind of.”

“Can you look something up for me?”

“Sure.”

“I’m looking for a French novelist. His name is Fran?ois De Chauffant. I want to know where he lives.”

Nathan tapped his phone screen. “Simples,” he said.

Arthur took the phone from him. There was a small, square photo of a white stucco-fronted maisonette. It looked very grand. Underneath there was an address in London. “Is this address current?”

Nathan tapped around a bit more. “It’s the only one for him, unless he’s gone back to France. Well, actually, he’s from Belgium originally. His family moved to Nice when he was a small child.”

“Does it say all that on your phone?”

“I knew some of it. We studied De Chauffant in class. He’s one of the most influential novelists of the sixties. His novel Stories We Tell is a classic. Have you heard of it?”

“I have actually.” Arthur thought of Kate’s tale of how he had stolen it from Graystock and wondered what man would do such a thing.

Nathan took his phone back. “Do you have your own mobile with you? I can Bluetooth you the link.”

“I’ll just write it down,” Arthur said. He found a pen and scrap of paper in his suitcase. “Can you read it out for me? My eyesight isn’t very good.”

Nathan rolled his eyes but he read the address out in a flat voice. “Did you really get attacked by a tiger?” he said as Arthur slipped the address into his back pocket.

Arthur nodded, then unfastened the wrist button on his shirt and rolled up his sleeve. The padding that Kate had taped in place was just about hanging on. Blood had seeped through and dried leaving rust-colored stripes. He saw Nathan’s eyes widen but then the young man seemed to remember that it wasn’t cool to show any interest. He shrugged and slumped back.

Bernadette appeared again, this time holding a plate of jam puffs. “I’ve made these while you were chatting,” she said. “You just roll out the puff pastry, cut it into squares and add a blob of jam in the center of each. Then pop it in the oven and voilà! It’s a very simple recipe. Now, eat them while they are still warm.”

Arthur and Nathan both reached out to take a jam puff at the same time. They sat and blew on them, then ate.

“Nathan and I are thinking of visiting Manchester next week.” Bernadette settled on the sofa beside Arthur. “You are welcome to join us again, if you fancy another outing. I hear it’s a vibrant city. The English course at the university is supposed to be superb.”

Arthur picked up his cup of coffee, which had now gone cold. “Actually, I was thinking of maybe trying London out next,” he said. “There’s a novelist’s house that I’d like to visit. I think that my wife might have been connected to him in some way.”