The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper(36)

He took the bracelet from his pocket. “I’m here to see if you gave her this charm on her bracelet. It’s a book. Inside is an inscription. It says Ma Chérie.” All the time he spoke he knew that his words were lost. The old man didn’t show any realization that someone was there talking to him. Arthur stood there for a while but then sighed and turned away.

Sebastian stood in the doorway, his arms folded. For the first time Arthur saw the bluey-gray bruises that punctuated his arms. He walked over. “Did he do this to you?” he whispered.

“A few, when I have to move him around and he gets confused. Last night, though, I was lonely. I called an old...friend. He came over. Things got out of hand. He shook me.”

“Did you call the police?”

Sebastian shook his head. “It is my own fault. I know what he is like. But still. I needed someone to hold. Do you understand what it is like, to be so lonely, Arthur?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

Sebastian made his way downstairs and Arthur followed.

“I will have to move him downstairs soon. I am not strong, though.”

“You need help. You shouldn’t be doing this alone.”

“I will work things out for myself.”

In the hallway Arthur held out the charm bracelet. He could not let his journey here end with the sight of De Chauffant curled like a dead leaf in his chair. “Inside this book charm, it says Ma Chérie. Can you tell me anything about it?”

Sebastian touched the charm, and then he nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I think I can.” In the front room he bent down and opened up a cupboard. Then he handed a book to Arthur. “I know Fran?ois’s work inside out. I’ve read all his novels and poems and musings, in between cleaning and changing his clothes. There is a poem in here. It’s called ‘Ma Chérie.’ It is a coincidence, yes?”

“Yes. Maybe.”

Sebastian flicked to the page. “It was written in 1963. This was the same year you think Fran?ois and your wife were friends?”

Arthur nodded. He didn’t want to read the words, to see if they uncovered what had gone on between the novelist and his wife, but he knew he had to look, to know.

“Keep it. He has a good ten copies. He always was a fan of his own work. I do not like his work. It is so...overwrought. So dramatic. I love him because I remember what he was, but I hate him because he keeps me here. I am like a bird in a gilded cage.”

“You should contact social services.”

“I am illegal. I do not exist. I cannot give my name. I do not have a number. I am invisible and must remain so. I am a nonperson. I have only two choices in my life—to stay or to go. If I go, where will this be?” He threw up his hands. “I have nowhere. I do not know what I am without him.”

Arthur suddenly felt full of responsibility for this young pink-haired man whose life was on hold because of an old man who had always been selfish. “You must find out. You are young. You have your full life in front of you. You are missing out on adventure and experiences and love. Leave a note, send a letter, make an anonymous phone call, but you must live your own life. You will find someone. Do not settle for anyone who hurts you. Find someone who loves you, who is perhaps your own age.” He wondered where his words came from. The last time he tried to advise Dan on his science homework, his son had snatched the workbook away. (“Don’t tell me what to do. That’s Mum’s job. You’re never around.”)

Arthur had stared at him, stunned at the outburst. He wasn’t around as much as Miriam, but he could still support his children. After that he kept his mouth firmly shut and left homework to the rest of the family. Miriam was the empathetic one, the one who “understood.” He knew his place, which was to go out to work and provide.

“Thank you, Arthur.” Sebastian leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I hope that I have helped you.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Arthur had never been kissed by a man before, except toddler kisses by his son. If felt strange, unwelcome, really. But at least he felt useful.

It had been a long day. He hadn’t found what he expected. He wondered if Miriam had felt trapped in their marriage as Sebastian was here. He took hold of Sebastian’s arm, gently, below the bruising. “If you want to go, go now,” he whispered. “I will stay here. I will make the arrangements for Mr. De Chauffant. He will be fine.”

Sebastian froze, considering Arthur’s offer. He shook his head. “I cannot ask that of you. I can’t leave him. Not yet, anyway. But I will think about your words. You are a kind man. Your wife was lucky, I think.”

“I was the lucky one.”

“I hope you find what you are looking for in the book.”

“I hope that things work out well for you.”

The sky was sapphire blue when Arthur left the house. Lights were on in each of the houses in the crescent, giving a glimpse of the people’s lives inside. As he walked away from De Chauffant’s house, he saw a girl with a black bob taking a piano lesson; two teenage boys stood on the windowsill in the front room flicking the “V” sign at passersby, and a woman with blond hair and black roots wrestled one baby carrier into her house, then another. “Twins,” she shouted to him. “Double the trouble.”

Arthur wondered if the neighbors knew what was going on at Number 56: that a young immigrant boy was looking after his ill, elderly former partner, who was once a prominent writer. He could not tell anyone; he could not compromise Sebastian’s situation. It wasn’t his business.