12

THE MAN WHO CAME TO DINNER

um had spent the whole day cleaning. I came home to a hum of air freshener, a gleaming kitchen and a spotless bathroom. She’d even been in my room, which now didn’t resemble my room at all. Surfaces were uncluttered and shelves neatly stacked, everything in its place. I wasn’t used to this kind of order. I’d never find anything now.

‘Since you’re home early you can help move the living room furniture,’ Mum said, more energised than weary from work. ‘There’s only so much I can do one-handed.’

‘He’s coming to eat, not inspect the place. Why move the furniture?’

‘Tonight we’ll dine properly. Not off our knees in front of the telly and not in the kitchen. We’ll move everything back and pull out the nice table we never use. Do we have enough chairs?’ she asked herself. ‘Ah yes, there’s a spare in my room. Be a love and fetch it.’

‘Shouldn’t it be just the two of you?’ I said, carting the chair downstairs. ‘Just you and him?’

‘Don’t be silly. This is your evening too. Did I say how much he was looking forward to meeting you?’

‘Several times.’

‘It won’t kill you to have a night in, will it?’

‘Suppose not.’

‘Now set that down and help me with this,’ she said as we entered the living room.

‘No, I’ll do it. You have a rest.’

She perched on the spare dining chair while I pushed the heavy sofa tight against the window and the two armchairs to each side of the room. Earlier, unable to move them by herself, Mum had cleaned around them, and dusty grey outlines remained where they’d stood.

‘I’ll see to that,’ she said, on her feet again. ‘Then we’ll set up the table.’

I stood back while she vacuumed up the dust bunnies. The maisonette hadn’t been this clean since we moved in. Everything sparkled as if a veil had been lifted. With the table in position she brought polish and place mats, the best silver cutlery and candles.

‘There,’ she said. ‘Now I’ll check the roast, then get myself showered and smartened up. He’s due in an hour.’

Taking a last look around the room, I sensed a difference, not in the re-arrangement of furniture and shiny surfaces but something else – something missing, or new, or out of place. It was probably only a detail, nothing important. The previously wonky art prints on the wall were now straightened and the keepsakes and ornaments stood where they always had.

But then I had a slow sinking feeling. On a shelf above the TV was a framed photograph, a holiday snap of Mum and Tom Sutherland on the harbour at sunset. What I was missing was the photo of Dad it had replaced – Dad wearing a Superman T-shirt and blowing a kiss to the camera in the garden in Swanley, looking happy and content before his troubles began. His photo was nowhere in sight. She’d swept it away.

‘Something wrong?’ Mum said.

‘No, nothing. You did a good job, that’s all.’

‘Ah, thanks, hon.’

It was only a small thing, but to me the missing photo was significant. If she’d hidden it because seeing it made her sad, I would gladly keep it in my room. I’d ask her about it sooner or later but I wouldn’t say anything tonight in front of our guest.

But I was restless now, my nerves on springs. Upstairs in my room, I thumbed a couple of DC comics without reading them, then put them aside and crossed to the window to check the street.

The wall across the way stood in darkness, its graffiti messages invisible. I was glad about that, but not so glad to see the two figures standing in front of the wall, their long shadows stretching across the road towards our block.

They were probably the same two from yesterday, still on duty, still keeping watch. From this distance they appeared to grow from the darkness itself, creeping out in human shape. When they both looked straight up at my window I swung aside and fell back against the wall, holding my breath.

When I dared to look again a car’s headlights were turning in from Lansdowne Drive. The two watchers had moved on, but they could be in hiding anywhere now. The bedroom door flew open behind me and I nearly screamed.

‘So what do you think? Will I pass?’ Mum said, fussing her hair, wiggling her hips in a smart black dress. She sucked in her tummy and looked at me as if everything depended on my opinion, but I was still preoccupied with the watchers outside.

‘You look amazing,’ I said. ‘I hardly recognise you.’

‘Well, thanks a lot.’

‘That came out all wrong. What I meant—’

‘Never mind. Are you ready? Is that what you’re wearing?’ A host of anxious questions hung about her lips.

‘You think I should wear something else?’ I said. I hadn’t thought of changing.

‘No, you’ll do. He’ll probably find the school uniform charming. Oh good grief. . .’ she gasped as the intercom buzzed. ‘On your best behaviour now. No backchat.’

‘It’s my evening too,’ I reminded her.

Mum rolled her eyes. ‘Smart mouth.’

She hurried to answer the door.

My initial thought, seeing him for the first time, was that he looked nothing like Dad. Tom was as handsome as his photograph and wore a smart, charcoal suit jacket and pale chinos. He was handing Mum a bouquet of flowers when he heard me on the stairs and looked up.

‘Well, hello. You must be Ben. Glad to meet you, sonny.’

‘I’ll put these in water,’ Mum said.

I came down and shook his hand, and I tried to smile but I didn’t speak. Until Mum returned from the kitchen I felt stranded. A large brown paper bag Tom was holding rustled at his side.

‘Aperitif?’ Mum said, ushering us to the living room. I’d never actually heard her use that word before, and I wondered if she needed to try so hard. ‘Shall we go through? Excuse the mess.’

‘What mess?’ I said, and her look said that was quite enough, thank you.

‘Very nice,’ Tom said, scanning the room. If he noticed the new photograph he didn’t comment. ‘Did I mention I grew up not far from here? It was a different area then, though. Quite trendy now, isn’t it?’

‘Well, I suppose,’ Mum said, bringing two sherries and a tumbler of lemonade on a tray. ‘We were lucky to find something so close to the park.’

She placed the tray on the table and Tom turned to me, smiling, showing me the bag.

‘For you.’

‘Oh, that’s nice,’ Mum said. ‘You shouldn’t have.’

‘What’s in it?’ I said warily.

‘Let’s see, shall we?’ He winked at me and reached inside the bag. ‘Careful how you handle this. It bites.’

He took out a miniature cactus, unusual but quite beautiful, no more than six centimetres tall with red and gold markings and pale silvery bristles as fine as baby hair. Delicate, creamy-white flowers grew from its prickly pear-like stems. A protective cylinder of plastic surrounded the plant.

‘You’ll want to remove this to let it breathe,’ Tom said. ‘I’m no expert on cacti, but this is one of the most striking I’ve seen. Just a token from a farm on the island. Do you like it?’

I nodded.

‘Say thank you, Ben,’ Mum said, and to Tom she said, ‘Never has much to say. It’s that age, you know.’

‘Thank you.’ Frowning at her, I lifted the container for a closer look. A faint sweetish scent drifted from it. ‘It has a funny smell,’ I said.

Tom nodded. ‘I noticed that too. Like ripe bananas. A pleasant enough smell, though, unless you can’t stand bananas. You might like to draw it sometime. Your mum tells me you’re a keen artist.’

I wondered what else she’d told him, but the shapes and contours of the plant were irresistible. I would’ve wanted to draw it even if he hadn’t suggested it.

‘So I brought you these too,’ he said, this time lifting from the carrier a large Moleskine sketchbook and an elegant varnished wooden pencil case with hand-carved swirling patterns on its lid.

‘It’s made to order,’ he said. ‘Crafted by a friend of mine. If you look closely you’ll see it’s personalised – made just for you.’

I set the cactus down and took the box from his hands, running a thumb across its textured surface. At first I didn’t see what he meant, but then I found the two words hidden among the delicate swirls: Ben Harvester.

‘Amazing,’ I said, flipping the lid. A set of twelve yellow-bodied pencils nestled inside, every weight of black from faintest to heaviest. ‘This is the best. These are the best. I always wanted a Moleskine too, but they’re dead expensive. Thanks.’

‘That’s more like it,’ Mum said. ‘Ben, run these things up to your room while I check our dinner. Tom, you haven’t touched your sherry.’

‘A bit of a nag, isn’t she?’ he joked as I went out.

‘You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,’ she said, and they laughed and tapped glasses.

Upstairs, I peeled the plastic surround from the cactus and placed the plant on the shelf between a Hulk action figure and the knick-knack tin containing my four-leaf clover chain. Inside the tin, the clovers were still healthy and green, but I couldn’t imagine why. By rights they should have died off weeks ago. It had to be some kind of magic.

Hope, faith, love and luck, I thought, remembering Becky’s explanation of what the four clover leaves signified. I wondered where she was right now, perhaps bracing herself in the Mustang’s back seat while Lu sped her and Mr October across town.

Coming down the stairs, I saw them together in the living room doorway, holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes. I hung back in the hall and cleared my throat, and they coughed and pulled apart.

‘It’s ready,’ Mum said, hurrying out to the kitchen. ‘Are you hungry?’

I shrugged.

‘I could eat a horse,’ Tom called.

‘That’s a shame. We only have chicken.’

Dinner was served. I hadn’t been looking forward to it, I wasn’t good around strangers, but the talk was light-hearted, no difficult silences, and now and then Tom would say something to make Mum laugh and she’d go off into an embarrassing schoolgirl giggle while I studied my plate.

From their conversation and the looks that passed between them I gathered they’d already spoken about Dad, though Mum had told me they hadn’t. They didn’t mention Dad now, but he seemed to be in the air, not far from their thoughts. At one point I asked Tom about his family, if he had one, and a strained look crossed his face before Mum quickly changed the subject. That was when I knew, or thought I knew. He understood what it meant to lose someone too.

‘Hope it was all right,’ Mum said at the end of the meal. ‘Roasts are my speciality, but I can do other things too.’

‘It’s a treat,’ Tom said.

‘Our usual idea of a treat is a takeaway from Hai Ha’s,’ I said, and Mum rolled her eyes.

‘Well, it’s been lovely,’ Tom said, raising his glass. ‘To our fabulous hostess. And a pleasure to meet you, Ben. I hope we’ll become good friends. Next time we’ll do this at my place. In fact, how are you both fixed at the weekend?’

‘I’m busy,’ I said.

Another of Mum’s reprimands came my way in a look. ‘He’s always off doing something. But there’s no reason why he can’t change his plans just this once.’

Just this once. But I’d already changed my plans for tonight and I couldn’t keep missing shifts. I looked at the window, hearing a raven caw-cawing past.

‘We can work something out,’ Tom said, ‘even if it’s only for a few hours before you get back to whatever you’d rather do. Shall I have my driver pick you up, say, Saturday noon?’

‘Your driver?’ I looked at him, gobsmacked.

Mum smiled and arranged her cutlery on her plate. She knew much more than she’d been letting on. The gifts he’d brought were nothing to Tom Sutherland, a spit in the ocean. He was loaded. Really nothing like Dad at all.

‘A driver,’ said Mum, ‘and a big house in Belsize Park. You should come along, Ben. No one’s forcing you but I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Personally, I can’t wait to see it.’

‘No pressure,’ Tom said. ‘It’s only a thought. But you’d make your mum happy by joining us, and her happiness is what counts, right?’

‘Yeah, I suppose,’ I said.

‘Oh no,’ Mum said suddenly. ‘But I have a hospital appointment on Saturday morning. I’d completely forgotten my clinic starts again so soon.’

‘No worries,’ Tom said. ‘We’ll drive you. We’ll pick Ben up later on our way back.’

‘Are you sure it’s no bother?’ Mum said.

‘None whatsoever,’ Tom said.

I had a strange sense of a door closing firmly, taking the light with it and shutting me out.

‘But I always go with you, Mum,’ I said. ‘The hospital’s my job.’

‘You’ve always done a fine job too,’ she said, ‘but you can help in other ways, Ben. Give yourself a break for once, no arguments now.’

And that was the end of that.

Later, after Tom had left and I’d moved the furniture back into place, Mum gave me a goodnight hug, holding me in such a way that I found myself looking straight at the photograph, so I closed my eyes.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘It’s going to be fine, I’m going to be fine, and you don’t have to do anything to prove you love me. Let Tom help out if he wants to.’

‘You’re serious about him, aren’t you?’ I said.

‘Oh, it’s a bit soon to say serious. But I enjoy his company, and he makes me feel good.’

‘Well, it shows.’

‘Thank you, darlin’. That’s quite a compliment, coming from you.’

Perhaps it was too soon, but it seemed to me that Tom Sutherland was already replacing Dad in her life – and now in this one small way he was replacing me too. The clinic was always an ordeal, the hospital full of departed and soon-departed souls and demons and chemical smells that made me gag, but getting Mum through it was one way I’d been able to help, and now I couldn’t even do that.