The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper(69)

He pulled on his slippers and walked out onto the gravel. “Bernadette? Lunch is ready.”

“Lunch?” For a moment she frowned, her thoughts elsewhere. “Oh, yes.”

They sat at the table. Since Miriam had died he didn’t usually bother with how food looked—he just tipped it on a plate and ate it—but he was pleased with how the sandwiches had turned out. He had cut them evenly and left a small gap between each quarter. Bernadette sat in the seat that used to be Miriam’s. She took up more room than his wife. She was colorful, too, reminding him of a parrot with her red hair and purple blouse. She had green nails today, the color of the emerald in the elephant charm’s howdah.

“So, you went to Paris?”

Arthur nodded. He told her about Sylvie and the wedding boutique and how Lucy had met a nice waiter. He had wrapped Bernadette’s lavender bag in pink tissue paper and he handed it to her now, before they had finished.

“What is this?” She seemed genuinely surprised.

“It’s just a small gift, to say thanks.”

“For what?”

Arthur shrugged. “You’re always so helpful.”

She opened it, turned it around in her hands and held it to her nose. “It’s a lovely gift,” she said.

He had expected her to give him a big smile and squeeze his arm. Something ebbed away inside him when she did not. It was only a small present but a big gesture for him to give it to her. He wanted to show that he appreciated her, that he liked her, that he valued her friendship. He had invested a lot of his feelings into that little bag. But how was she to know that? He wished that he had added a thoughtful note, especially as she might be going through a difficult time. His mouth grew dry as he tried to find the words instead. “You’re a very kind person,” he managed.

“Thank you, Arthur.”

They finished their lunch. However, his mind wasn’t still. His insides felt churned up and he wasn’t sure if the sandwich and pie would stay put in his stomach for long. He found that as well as worrying about Bernadette he was also itching for Sonny to ring him, to answer all his questions.

“Did you ever wonder what Carl’s life was like before you met?” he asked as casually as he could.

Bernadette raised an eyebrow but answered, anyway. “He was thirty-five when we met, so of course there’d been other women. He had been married before, too. I didn’t question him as I didn’t want to know, if that’s what you mean. I don’t suppose it mattered if he’d been with two women before me or twenty. It’s Nathan I feel sorry for. He was so young to lose his father.”

Arthur knew he could confide in this dignified woman—his friend, even if she was a little distant today. It didn’t yet seem the right time to mention her appointments.

“Is there something you want to say to me?” she prompted.

Arthur closed his eyes and saw himself sitting naked on a stool, his body white and crinkled. He saw Miriam smiling seductively for her portrait painter. “I...” he started, then broke off, unable to find the words, unsure if he wanted to speak them. “I just wonder why Miriam stayed with me. I mean, look at me. I’m nothing to look at. I had no ambitions, no drive. I don’t paint or write or create. I was a bloody locksmith. She must have been so bored.”

Bernadette frowned, surprised by his outpour. “Why would she be bored? Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He sighed. He was fed up of this now, fed up of this mystery. “She had such an exciting life before she met me. And she didn’t tell me about it. She hid it away from me. All the time we were together I wonder if she was thinking back to her life of India, tigers, artists and novelists and she was stuck with boring old me. She got pregnant and had to settle for the life that I gave her when really she wanted to be doing something else.” Embarrassingly he found tears pricking his eyes.

Bernadette was still, her voice calm. “You’re never boring, Arthur. Having kids and being a grown-up is an adventure in itself. I saw the two of you once at a church fair. I saw the way you looked at each other. She saw you as her protector. I remember thinking that you belonged together.”

“When was that?” he challenged.

“A few years ago.”

“You were probably mistaken.”

“No,” she said firmly. “I know what I saw.”

Arthur jerked his head. He knew that nothing she could say would make things better. He would be better keeping his thoughts to himself and his mouth shut, rather than passing on his maudlin mood.

“You never know what is ’round the corner.” Bernadette stood and carried the plates into the kitchen. She began to rinse them under the tap, even though she hadn’t finished her food.

“Leave them,” he called after her. “I’ll do them.”

“It’s fine.” Her voice wobbled.

Arthur froze. It sounded as if she was crying. He should not have mentioned Carl, or argued with her about the church fair. Now what was he supposed to do? He sat stock-still, his shoulders stiff. Bernadette sniffed. He stared straight ahead, pretending that this wasn’t happening. He wasn’t good at this emotional stuff. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

“Me? Yes, of course.” She spun on the tap. But as she moved to retrieve the tea towel he saw that her eyes were wet.