The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper(48)

“Well, yes. A young woman sees her parents split up, and then her mother gets a rough new boyfriend. I presume that’s why Miriam followed that doctor chap she worked for when he moved back to India. Why else would you go somewhere so very foreign?”

Arthur blinked. Understanding washed over him. No wonder Mrs. Kempster had been so sour-faced with him. She’d gone through a divorce, her daughter flitting abroad and an errant lover. She was a survivor.

“Thank you, Vera. That is most helpful.”

“That’s fine. Anytime.” She pushed her tortoiseshell glasses up her nose. “I suppose you think I stand here gossiping all day?”

“I, er...”

“Well, that’s not true. I talk to people about what they know, what they’re familiar with. The post office is a community hub. It’s important to village life.”

“I understand. Thanks again.” He felt a bit humbled at how obliging she had been.

Turning to leave he found a small semicircle of pensioners around him. They had their heads cocked at various angles as they listened in to the conversation. For a moment he remembered a zombie film he had watched late one night on TV where the undead honed in on their victims, ready to eat their brains. But he was being unkind. They were probably just lonely, like him. “Hello.” He raised his hand. “Nice to see you all. I was just having a lovely chat to Vera. Can I just squeeze through? Thank you. Thanks.”

He walked back outside and the sun had come out. He had solved another charm. There was nothing untoward about this one. Perhaps the others might be the same, throwing up no other lovers, or questions, or unease. Yes, he felt better now.

“Oh, hello, Arthur.” Across the road Bernadette spotted him and waved. She ushered Nathan across. “Well, just look at you. You go to Graystock and then there’s no stopping you on your travels again. You’re like Michael Palin all of a sudden.”

Arthur smiled.

“I called ’round today with a pie for you. That nice man opposite with the lawn mower said that you’d gone out. I gave the pie to Mrs. Monton instead.”

“Sorry about that. I should have told you.”

“You don’t need to explain to me, Arthur. I’m not your keeper. It’s nice to see you out and about, that’s all.”

“How is the university search going?” Arthur said to Nathan.

The young man shrugged. “S’okay.”

“The uni in Manchester looked interesting,” Bernadette said. “Very contemporary.”

“Good.”

“You have a rucksack,” she said.

“Yes. And sandals.”

“You do look like a real traveler.”

“I’ve been to London.”

Nathan looked up, his face full of anticipation. Arthur didn’t elaborate. He didn’t want to talk about De Chauffant.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” Bernadette asked. “I’m doing rag puddings. I cook them in white cotton handkerchiefs.”

Arthur’s mouth began to water, but he had already thought of a plan. “I’ve decided that I’m going to visit my daughter,” he said. “It’s been too long since we saw each other.” He didn’t want to risk Lucy disappearing out of his life as Miriam had moved away from Pearl.

“Lovely. Well, it was nice to see you. Perhaps another time?”

“Yes, definitely. Cheerio, then.”

Arthur took out his mobile phone and rang his daughter. When she didn’t answer, he hung up. But then he dialed again and left a message. “Lucy. It’s Dad. I’ve been in London. I’m just phoning to see if we can start over. I, er, I miss you and think we should be a family again. I need to talk to you about something to do with your mother. I’m going to call ’round to yours at ten-thirty tomorrow morning. I hope to see you then.”

He then stuffed his post office purchases into his rucksack and walked back toward his house. Now he knew why Miriam had set off on her travels. But why hadn’t she told him anything about them?





Green Shoots


SOMETHING HAD CHANGED when Arthur woke up the next morning. For one thing, he had overslept. His alarm clock had stopped, the digits frozen at three in the morning. He knew it wasn’t that early because outside the sky was tissue white and he could hear Terry’s lawn mower. His watch showed it was nine o’clock. Usually this would have thrown him into a state of panic. He was already an hour late for breakfast. But now he lay back on his pillow and thought of nothing except going to Lucy’s house.

When he got up, he didn’t lay his clothes out on the bed. He went downstairs in his pajamas. He decided that he would eat breakfast with his cereal bowl on his knee in front of the TV rather than sit alone at the too-big kitchen table. He enjoyed ignoring his routine.

He left his house at nine forty-five, giving himself plenty of time to walk. Terry gave him a wave as he went past. “Arthur. You’re back. Your daughter was looking for you the other day.”

“I believe so.”

“Uh-huh. I think she was worried. I mean, you don’t really go out much.”

“No, I don’t suppose I do.” Arthur stood poised with one foot in front of the other, ready to be on his way. Instead, he reconsidered and crossed over to speak to his neighbor. “I went to Graystock Manor in Bath and then I went to London. You know, sightseeing and things.”