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‘Are you packed?’ said Patrick, as Gulliver opened the front door to let him in.
‘Yes,’ said Gulliver heavily.
Patrick raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ll need more than a pair of underpants and a phone, you know.’
‘I’m packed!’
‘Good to hear.’ Patrick made his way to the kitchen, where he found Benedict.
‘He’s packed, apparently,’ Patrick said.
‘Only because I stood over him,’ Benedict replied.
‘Flight doesn’t leave till this afternoon!’ Gulliver thumped down on a kitchen chair. ‘What’s the panic?’
‘So says the seasoned traveller,’ said Patrick. He glanced around. ‘Where’s Aishe? I thought we might go to the café for a bite before we leave. It’ll be my last chance to eat bacon.’
‘She’s, er, upstairs.’ Benedict gave him a pointed look. ‘Getting ready.’
‘Right,’ said Patrick. ‘I’ll pull up a chair then. And you,’ he nodded at Gulliver, ‘can make me a cup of coffee.’
‘Life lesson seventeen,’ said Benedict to an outraged Gulliver. ‘Yes. You are his slave.’
Muttering, Gulliver started to get up. But then his mother appeared in the doorway.
‘Sit down,’ she said to him.
Gulliver spread his hands in disbelief. ‘Is this, like, beat the crap out of Gulliver day?’
‘Just sit,’ said his mother. ‘Or I’ll never be able to do this.’
Patrick and Benedict exchanged a look, and moved quietly towards the rear of the kitchen.
Aishe slid into a chair opposite Gulliver and sat with her spine stiff and straight. Held tightly in her hand was a very battered Polaroid photograph. She frowned down at it and then, as if releasing the pin from a grenade, shoved it hastily across the table towards her son.
‘This is your father,’ she said. ‘I do know his last name. It’s Thorvaldsen. Jonas Thorvaldsen. The rest was the truth. He doesn’t know about you. And I haven’t the faintest idea where he is.’
Gulliver stared the photo and then turned wide eyes on his mother.
‘You’re shitting me.’ He leapt to his feet. ‘Holy crap!’ he yelled, and ran out of the room. They heard his feet pounding up the stairs, at least three at a time.
Aishe gazed after him, mouth open. Then she stared at Patrick and Benedict.
‘Was that a bad reaction?’ she said to them. ‘I’ve lost the ability to tell.’
But before they could offer an opinion, Gulliver came thumping back down the stairs and rushed into the kitchen, panting, face flushed, with the laptop in his hand.
‘Jonas Thorvaldsen!’ He brandished the computer at Benedict, who caught Aishe’s eye and gave a helpless shrug.
‘Jonas Thorvaldsen!’ Gulliver said again, and wrenched out a chair. ‘Holy crap!’
‘Gulliver,’ said his mother. ‘Seriously – what the fuck?’
Gulliver was bashing away at the keypad. He gave one final, triumphant click and pumped his fist in the air. ‘Fuck yeah!’
Then he swung the laptop around so Aishe could see the screen.
She squinted at the web page. ‘I don’t believe it.’
Unable to contain their curiosity, Benedict and Patrick clustered round.
‘Jonas Thorvaldsen,’ read Benedict. ‘Drummer in Barstad.’ He frowned. ‘Did they play that the godawful death-metal music you tortured me with?’
‘He’s famous!’ said Gulliver to his mother. ‘They’re like the biggest thing since, like, Slipknot!’
‘Don’t ask,’ said Benedict.
Patrick was peering at the screen. ‘They’re going on tour,’ he said. ‘First stop, Hammersmith.’ He looked at Aishe. ‘Well, now you know where he is. Or at least, where he’s going to be in two weeks’ time.’
‘Hammersmith, where’s Hammersmith?’ Gulliver seized control of the laptop. ‘That’s in London!’
Aishe sank her head briefly into her hands. ‘I’m cursed,’ she said. ‘Someone in our bloody family must have cursed me.’
Gulliver’s shoulders sagged. ‘I can’t go see him without you, though,’ he said to his mother. ‘He won’t believe me.’
‘Gulliver—’ Aishe was struggling for words. ‘He may not even want to see you — you do realise that, don’t you? I mean, how would you feel if your fourteen-year-old son turned up out of the blue?’
‘I’d feel like something had gone seriously wrong with the space-time continuum,’ said Gulliver. Then in a small voice, added, ‘Do you really think he won’t want to see me?’
‘I don’t know!’ Aishe caught herself and softened her tone. ‘Really. I’ve no idea.’
‘But you’ll come and meet him with me, won’t you?’ said Gulliver.
His mother stared at him for a long moment. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’ll come.’
Benedict saw Patrick look over him. He did not fail to observe the look of hollow desolation.
‘I wouldn’t worry,’ Patrick said to him. ‘He doesn’t actually look like her type.’
‘The love of her life was a three hundred pound black man,’ said Benedict. ‘I’m not sure either of us will ever measure up to that.’
‘Well?’ Patrick rubbed his hands together. ‘Who’s for huevos rancheros and waffles? My shout?’
‘Have you got time?’ Aishe sounded weary.
‘My arteries might disagree, but yes.’
Patrick laid his hand briefly on her shoulder.
‘Come on, my brave girl,’ he said. ‘As I always like to say, there’s nothing that doesn’t look better after a strong cup of coffee. And, in this case, a side of streaky fucking bacon.’
As soon as they entered the café, they were hailed by Michelle, who was there with Chad.
‘Pull up that table!’ she said. ‘Join us!’
‘Where’s the rest of the family?’ said Aishe.
‘Lowell and Virginia have taken the children to the playground,’ said Michelle. ‘Grandparents! They’re freaking awesome!’
Chad was stifling a yawn. Michelle gave him a fond glance.
‘We didn’t get much sleep last night,’ she said. ‘Kids had too much food, too much excitement. But we did have sex!’ she added. ‘So it wasn’t a complete debacle.’
‘Mitch, seriously,’ said Chad. ‘Do you have to?’
‘I don’t know why you even bother to ask that,’ said his wife.
Xavier appeared at the table. ‘I hear you are leaving,’ he said to Patrick, when he’d taken their order. ‘I hope you enjoyed it here.’
‘How did he manage to make that sound like a threat?’ said Patrick, when Xavier was at safe distance. He frowned. ‘And who told him, anyway?’
‘Small town,’ said Michelle. ‘No, I lie. It was me. He was asking about you.’
Patrick slid a surreptitious glance over to the counter. ‘Definitely time to go home.’
‘Hola!’ Angel was beaming down at them. ‘Do you have room for three more?’
‘More like two-and-a-half,’ said Malcolm. ‘Ron is undersized.’
‘It’s stress,’ said Ron. ‘I’ll get to die young and thin. At least that’s one thing to look forward to.’
‘Gulliver—’ Patrick nodded at him to help shift over more chairs.
‘Yeah, yeah.’ Gulliver rolled his eyes, but got up quickly enough.
‘Lessons are paying off,’ said Benedict to Patrick.
‘I know the promise of a swift kick in the slats always motivated me,’ Patrick replied.
Aishe frowned at Chad. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be at work?’
‘Yes, I am,’ he said. ‘But they can’t fire me. I have dirt on them.’
‘Really?’ Michelle stared at him.
‘No.’ He gave her a slow smile. ‘But paranoia is such a useful weapon, isn’t it?’
Michelle leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed happily. ‘I love you.’
‘Are you all flying to London today?’ Chad said to Aishe.
Aishe glanced quickly at Benedict. ‘No,’ she said. ‘We’ll go over in a couple of weeks.’
‘Which isn’t a moment too soon for me.’ Benedict made a face. ‘Now that you’ve mentioned paranoia, I should perhaps confess that I am working here illegally.’
‘Don’t worry, señor,’ said Xavier, arriving with the coffee orders. ‘If the immigration police come, I’ll distract them, so you can make your getaway.’
He set down the cups in brisk fashion and left.
‘There’s a deep and disconcerting vein of sarcasm in that lad’s character,’ said Patrick.
‘It is the Spanish in him,’ said Malcolm. ‘They’re a cruel race, the Spanish.’
‘Cruel?’ Angel placed his hand on his heart, as if mortally wounded. ‘We are not cruel. We are tragic!’
‘Tragic?’ said Michelle. ‘That sounds like a cue for one of Malcolm’s jokes.’
‘Better be the one about the identical twins,’ said Patrick, ‘or I’ll go to my grave wondering about it.’
‘You too?’ said Benedict.
‘Oh, God.’ Aishe briefly closed her eyes. ‘Well, go on then,’ she said to Malcolm. ‘Get it over with.’
Malcolm’s own expression was delighted. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘A woman accidentally gets pregnant. It turns out she’s having identical twin boys, and as she’s single and very young decides to put the babies up for adoption. One is adopted by a family in Spain—’
‘That is because we Spanish are so loving and generous,’ said Angel.
‘Who name the boy Juan,’ Malcom continued. ‘The second twin is adopted by an Egyptian family, who call their boy Amahl.’
‘I can’t think where this joke is going,’ said Benedict. ‘Nowhere good, I suspect.’
‘Shh!’ said Michelle. ‘Don’t make it last any longer than it has to!’
‘Fifteen years later,’ said Malcolm, ‘the woman has married, but sadly, she and her husband cannot have children of their own. The woman starts to think about her boys, her twins, and decides to write away to their adoptive families, to find out how they are. She is afraid that after all this time, they won’t respond. But from Spain, she receives a letter, with a photo of her son.’
‘Is what I say — we are a generous people,’ said Angel. ‘Not like those selfish Egyptians.’
Malcolm ignored him. ‘The woman shows the photo to her husband, and says, “This is wonderful. But I wish I had a picture of my second son.” Her husband shrugs and says. “Why? They’re identical twins. When you’ve seen Juan, you’ve seen Amahl.”’
‘Oh, my God . . .’ Benedict sank his head into his hands.
Gulliver snickered. ‘Good one.’
‘No,’ said Aishe. ‘Nothing like good.’
Patrick was chuckling.
‘Oh, I dunno,’ he said. ‘I’ve heard worse.’
‘I know those ones, too,’ said Malcolm, but was forestalled by Michelle, waving at a group by the café’s front door.
‘Virginia! Lowell!’ she called out. ‘Over here!’
Gulliver got up immediately. ‘More chairs,’ he said, heavily. ‘I’m on it.’
Lowell had Rosie in his arms and a broad smile on his face. ‘Guess what?’ he said, face bright with gleeful pride. ‘My girl here took a few steps!’
‘Oh my God!’ Michelle stared at Chad. ‘We missed it!’
‘You mean—?’ Chad hesitated. ‘Rosie’s walking?’
‘She is almost a year old.’ Virginia had Harry by the hand. ‘It’s not really that early.’
‘Your daughter’s on the loose.’ Patrick was shaking his head. ‘Sorry to say it, but from now on, that’s it. You’re fucked.’
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THE END