The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper (28 page)

As he left the flat he was sure he heard the man muttering to himself, asking why the chair wasn't where he left it.

He considered writing a note or posting through some money, but he knew how proud Mike was. Instead, he lifted Mike's letterbox and pushed the watch through. The small thud it made when it landed on the doormat gave him a feeling of satisfaction like no other.

Journey's End?

“FACTOR FORTY?” LUCY SAID,
reading off her checklist.

“Yes,” Arthur replied.

“Lip balm?”

“Check.”

“Does it have an SPF?”

Arthur picked up the navy blue stick and peered at the small white writing. “Yes. Factor fifteen.”

“Hmm,” Lucy said. “You could do with a higher one.”

“It'll be fine.”

“I'll see what I've got in my makeup bag.”

“It's fine. I
have
been on holiday before, you know.”

“Not anywhere as far, or as hot,” Lucy said firmly. “I do not want a phone call telling me that you have sunstroke.”

Arthur changed the subject. “Did you go to the cinema with Terry?”

Lucy smiled. “We had a lovely time. We're going for a meal on Friday, to that new restaurant in town. He absolutely loves kids, too,” she added.

Arthur had asked Terry to keep an eye on the house. “Frederica likes watering first thing in the morning so she has moisture for the full day.”

“You've told me five times,” Terry said. “And I will switch your lights on every night and close your curtains so that people will think you're still at home.”

“Good. And if ever you want me to look out for the tortoise, that's fine.” Really, he had no idea what he would do with the little fella, but he felt good for offering.

“Have you packed your sunglasses?” Lucy started again.

“Yes.”

“Hold on. Are those the ones you wore when I was little?”

“I've only ever had one pair. They're quality ones. Tortoiseshell.” He put them on.

“I suppose they're quite fashionable again now.”

Arthur flipped the lid on his suitcase shut. “I have everything. If I've forgotten anything I can pick it up at the airport.”

“You've never actually been to an airport before, except to see Dan off.”

“I'm not a child.”

They both laughed. It was something Lucy used to say when she was a teenager.

“Seriously, though, Dad. A month abroad is a long time. You need to be prepared. It's not going to be like your holidays to Bridlington with Mum.”

“I hope not.” He laughed. “I want to try new food and culture.”

“You certainly have changed. I wonder what Mum would say if she could see you now.”

Arthur picked up his sunglasses. “I think she'd be pleased.” He glanced at his watch. “The taxi is ten minutes late,” he said.

“You have plenty of time.”

As another ten minutes ticked past, Arthur began to worry. “I'll phone them,” Lucy said. She carried the phone into the kitchen. “Right. They said they didn't have a note of your booking. They're going to get someone here as soon as possible but they're short-staffed. It's rush hour and so it might be an hour.”

“An hour?”

“I know. It's not good enough. We need to get you on the road now. If you get stuck in traffic... Is there anyone you can ask for a lift?”

“No,” Arthur said, but then he did know someone, a friend he could rely on for life.

Bernadette and Nathan arrived at the house ten minutes later. “You do know the way, don't you?'' He could hear her voice before the doorbell sounded.
Briiiiing.

“How does she make it sound so loud?” Lucy asked.

Arthur shrugged and opened the door.

“Don't worry, Arthur.” Bernadette bustled in. She pressed a carrier bag into his hand. “Some fresh sausage rolls for the journey. Nathan will get you there on time.”

Nathan nodded. He obediently picked up Arthur's case and travel bag and put them in the trunk. Then he got into the car and waited. Lucy and Bernadette stood in the hallway. Arthur felt like a schoolboy with two aunts waving him goodbye.

“I always take some cereal bars,” Bernadette added. “In case I'm not keen on the food when I get there.”

Arthur gave Lucy a huge hug and a kiss. “I'll send you a postcard.”

“You'd better do.” She nodded and then left the house. “Love you, Dad.”

“Love you, too.”

Bernadette seemed quite choked up. “I'll kind of miss you, Arthur Pepper,” she said.

“You have plenty of other lost causes to attend to.”

“You were never a lost cause, Arthur. Just one who had lost direction a bit.”

“Who will I hide from now?”

They both chuckled and he noticed for the first time how clear her eyes were and that they were a kind of olive green with brown speckles. He loved how she embraced life and held it tight against her ample bosom, never letting it go.

“You never gave up on me,” he said. “Even though I gave up on myself.” He reached out to hug her. Bernadette hesitated for a moment and then stepped forward. They held each other for a few seconds before pulling away. He would have liked to have held her for longer and the feeling took him by surprise. She fitted against his body well, as if it was a place that she was meant to be. “See you in a month,” he said brightly.

“Yes,” she said. “You will.”

Nathan commanded the traffic. He nipped in gaps, took side roads, skipped a couple of traffic lights on amber. All the time he was calm. He hummed and tapped his finger on the steering wheel to the music that was so quiet Arthur could hardly hear it. “I'll get you there, no worries,” he said. “My friends are well jell of you, y'know. Everyone wishes their granddads were like you, y'know, adventurous and stuff. I sort of told them you were like a surrogate granddad to me, seeing as I don't have one of my own.”

It was a role that Arthur was keen to develop further. He had already made a mental note to stock up on icing, flour and those edible shiny balls when he got back, in case Nathan fancied a spot of cake-making together one day.

He sat back and marveled at this transformation in the young man. He had judged him by his hair, and that was a mere fashion that disguised a sensitive nature. “Is your mum okay now?”

“Yeah, thank God. I was worried that I was, you know, going to be an eighteen-year-old orphan. That would have sucked. Thanks for being there for her. It's good to know that when I go to catering college she has a good friend to look out for her. Scarborough's not too far away, either.”

“I've been to the college,” Arthur said, smiling about the life-drawing class. “The art department is lovely.”

“I can cook for you as well as my mum.”

“That's great. Though please don't make me marzipan cake.”

“Don't worry. I hate it.”

“Me, too. I don't know how to tell your mum that, though.”

“Me, neither.”

The airport was as bright as a dentist's studio and the shops were stuffed with jewelry, teddies, clothes, perfumes, alcohol. He wandered around and bought some marbles and a cuddly elephant and a travel book for himself. He opened the front page and there was a map of the world. England was a tiny smudge. There is so much to see, he thought.

When his gate number was called he felt as if he had grasshoppers in his stomach. He joined a line of people and held his passport open on the correct page as instructed. He shuffled away along the queue. A small shuttle bus took him to the airplane. He hadn't imagined it would be so huge—a shiny white beast with a Roman nose and red tail. A friendly lady with a blond bob welcomed him aboard and he found his seat. He sat down and strapped himself in, then absorbed himself in the activity around him—people finding their seats, announcements, a free magazine in a pocket of the seat in front. The lady next to him offered him her spare inflatable neck cushion and a mint candy. The engine roared up. He watched the cabin crew's emergency instructions intently, then he leaned back in his seat and gripped his armrests as the plane tilted upward.

He was on his way. On his next journey.

The Future

ARTHUR SAT ON
the edge of his sun lounger and dug his bare toes deep into the hot white sand. His cream linen trousers were rolled to the knee and his loose-fitting white cotton shirt was half-tucked into his waistband. The heat enveloped him tightly. It made him feel lethargic, slower. Sweat prickled under his arms and formed on his forehead like tiny glass beads. He liked it, this feeling of being in an oven.

He watched the blue sea lap against the shore, depositing a stripe of white foam. A group of small boys ran in fully dressed, splashing one another. There were wooden boats around him, upturned, the fishermen having already been out to sea and returned with their haul of fish. He could smell it on the barbecues in the shacks along the beach. Soon the tourists would descend, in their brightly colored beach wraps and beads, to eat supper and drink beer from the bottle.

The sun was setting and the sky was already striped with ribbons of fuchsia and orange, like a woven sari. Palm trees reached out like hands to touch the magnificent sky. A rainbow of scarves, sarongs and towels hanging from the beach huts billowed in the breeze.

Arthur stood and walked to the edge of the water. The sand felt like warm dust beneath his feet. In one hand he clasped the elephant charm tightly, and in the other he held his half-read book:
A Rough Guide to India
.

It had been a difficult decision to choose Goa over Australia. But he needed to come to where his journey had begun, from the phone call he had made to Mr. Mehra. It had changed how he saw his wife, how he saw himself.

He and Lucy had already arranged to go and spend Christmas with Dan. That suited his daughter better, when she could travel in the school holidays.

He opened his hand and the gold elephant shone. As the sun began to dip farther, sinking into the sea, the light slid over the charm and Arthur could swear that the elephant winked at him. “You are getting old,” he said aloud to himself. “Seeing things.” Then he noticed that he hadn't said,
You
are
old
. He had said,
You are
getting
old
. He was just on the way there.

“Mr. Arthur Pepper. Mr. Pepper.” A small boy, no more than six years old, ran toward him. He had ears that looked like cup handles and a thatch of black hair. “Sir. It is time for tea back at the house.”

Arthur nodded. He made his way back to the sun lounger, slipped on his sandals and followed the boy off the beach. They passed a cow that stood chewing the frayed leather on the seat of a rusting red motorbike. “Follow me, sir.” The boy led them both through a heavy turquoise iron gate and into a courtyard garden. After having arrived in darkness the previous night, Arthur was glad for an escort back to his host.

Rajesh Mehra stood waiting by a small fountain that was studded with mosaics. Water trickled and looked like flowing silver. A small round table had been laid with a silver teapot and two china cups. He was dressed all in white and didn't have one hair on his head. His eyes were hooded and kind. “I still cannot believe that you are here, my friend. I am so glad you came to stay with me. Are you enjoying your sunbathing?”

“Yes. Very much so. I've never been quite so warm before.”

“It can be stifling. Now, it is not so bad. Miriam used to like the sun. She said that she was like a lizard and she needed the sun to warm her bones.”

Arthur smiled. She'd said the same thing to him. At even a hint of sun she would lie in the garden with a magazine and soak up the rays.

They took their tea in the courtyard. “I am a creature of habit,” Rajesh said. “I like to have my tea at the same time each day. I like my newspaper folded in the same way and I take precisely thirty minutes to sit and read.”

“Then I am spoiling your routine.”

“You are not spoiling it. You are enhancing it. It is good to shake things up.”

Arthur told Rajesh about his own routines, how they had started as a comfort and became a prison. He was about to say that a very nice lady named Bernadette had helped him out of it. But it was he himself who had done it. He had found the bracelet. He had called Mr. Mehra. He was responsible for the change in his life.

“I remember that Miriam was not one for routines. I think she was a free spirit,” Rajesh said. “I think she was a special lady. Did she have a good life?”

Arthur didn't hesitate. “Yes,” he said proudly. “She looked after you. She played with tigers. She inspired a poem. She influenced great art. She was a fantastic mother. We truly loved each other. She was remarkable.”

He waited for Rajesh to pour his tea, then he took a sip. The china cup was dainty and painted with tiny pink roses. Miriam would have loved it.

He and she had lived their lives in opposite directions. Miriam's had been colorful and lively and vibrant but then quietened and calmed when she met him. He in turn had never wished for more than his wife and the children, yet here he was, his sandals white from sand and his ankles suntanned. It was unexpected, invigorating. And his wife had led him here.

“I shall take you to see her room, yes?”

Arthur nodded, a lump rising in his throat.

Her room was small, no longer than eight feet and around five feet in width. There was a simple low wooden bed and a writing desk. The walls were white plaster and there were holes where photos and paintings had been pinned over the years. He imagined her sitting at the desk, looking out of the window and laughing at the children playing in the courtyard, rolling marbles between her fingers. She could have optimistically written a letter to Sonny here, not knowing what terrible events would unfold when she got home.

He stood at the window and closed his eyes, allowing the falling sun to warm his face. The back of his neck was already pink and tingly, just as he liked it.

Just then his mobile phone vibrated in his pocket. “Hello. Arthur Pepper. How may I help you?” he said without looking at the screen. “Oh, hello, Lucy. I'm fine. Please don't stay on too long. These mobile phones are very costly...Don't worry about me, really. It is very beautiful here and Mr. Mehra and his family are very welcoming. I can imagine your mother here as a young woman. She must have felt so happy and free, her life ahead of her, like yours is now. Like mine is. We must enjoy it. It's what she would have wanted...Okay, well, goodbye, darling. It's so lovely to hear from you. Love you.”

He slipped the phone back into his pocket. Then he gave a small smile and left the elephant charm on the bed, back where it belonged. He walked back into the courtyard. “My daughter was on the phone,” he said. “She worries about me.”

“We worry about our children and then they worry about us,” Rajesh replied. “It is a circle of life. Enjoy it.”

“I will.”

“Did you know that Miriam and I walked to the village together each day? Our treat was to buy a fresh bread roll each and to pull the soft bread out of the center and eat it on the way back. One day I proclaimed my love for her and she was very sweet. She told me that, when I grew older, I would meet the love of my life and it would be the real thing. She was right, of course. Miriam said that she longed to find her own true love, too. ‘I won't compromise,' she told me. ‘I will only marry once. I will take it seriously and marry the man that I will spend the rest of my life with.' I remembered her words when I met Priya and I felt that lightning bolt of love strike me in the chest. And I hoped that Miriam had found it, too. And of course she did, when she met you. She followed her heart.”

Arthur closed his eyes. He pictured the rows and columns of photographs that Dan and Lucy had arranged in his front room. He saw Miriam smiling, happy. He saw the words in her letter to Sonny. “I'm proud that I was the one for her, just as she was the one for me. I believe that her life was the one she chose to lead.”

Rajesh nodded. “Come. Let us walk.”

The two men walked back to the edge of the quicksilver sea. Behind them a line of fires shone from the beach shacks. The smell of barbecued fish hung in the air. Two dogs chased each other along the beach. Arthur kicked off his shoes and let the sea kiss his toes.

“To Miriam.” Rajesh raised his cup of tea in a toast.

“To my wonderful wife,” Arthur said.

Then they stood and watched as the orange sky darkened to indigo and the sun finally sank into the sea.

* * * * *