Chapter Eighteen

 

 

He was where Sue said, crouched by the side of the road close to the pub. I could see the reason for her concern. There was something peculiar about his posture. His head was bent and fixed on something in the gutter, his body shielding whatever it was from view. I took the liberty of parking in the deserted pub car park before hurrying to him.

I recoiled in horrified disgust when I saw what he was concealing. It was a dead cat, a small black and white creature. A car had hit it. There was a pool of dark blood on the asphalt under its body where it had collapsed or been flung. Its jaw was broken and hanging loose, revealing a tiny pink hooked tongue. One eye was hanging from a socket. It was revolting. He was sketching this grimness of feline death with no sign of emotion and such close concentration he didn’t seem aware of my presence.

“Dee-Dee.” I touched his shoulder. He didn’t respond, continuing to slash pencil on paper. I hunkered down beside him, my concern growing by the second. He looked gaunt with dark shadows smudged under his eyes. He clearly hadn’t shaved for a number of days, or changed his clothes. He was unkempt and smelled of sour sweat.

“Dee-Dee.” I repeated his name more forcefully. “Look at me.” He kept sketching. Grasping his wrist I took the pencil from him. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

He stared at me for a moment and then stated the obvious. “It’s dead, Si. I found it when I was out walking. I was heading for the cemetery to sit with Jen for a while and draw, but I found this.” His eyes brimmed.

“Why on earth would you want to draw it? It’s gruesome. Come away. Let me take you home. You don’t look well.”

The tears spilled. “I can’t leave the poor little thing here. I can’t leave it to be carrion for crows or foxes.”

The pub would be opening for evening trade soon. I didn’t want to leave him as a sideshow for curious drinkers. I had an idea. “I’ve got a sports towel in the boot of my car. I’ll get it. We’ll take the cat back to the bakery and bury it decently in the gardens. How’s that?”

“Yes.” His face brightened a little. “You’re right. We should return it to nature.”

I sprinted off to get the towel. Suppressing my revulsion I helped him lift the cat’s remains onto it and wrap them. I carried the little body to the car and placed it in the boot while he got in the front passenger seat. He slumped back, closing his eyes, turning his head away from me, obviously disinclined to talk.

He insisted we bury the animal as soon as we got back to the bakery. He chose a spot in the middle of a rose bed because he reckoned the thorns would deter would be predators from attempting to dig the corpse back up.

I borrowed a spade from the grounds store shed and dug as deep a hole as I could. He laid the wrapped remains in it and covered them over, pressing the soil well down before scattering rose petals on top. Leaving him paying his respects I returned the spade to the shed and then went back for him. He was still kneeling by the grave.

“Come on, Dee-Dee. There’s no purpose to be served in staring. You can’t bring the poor creature back.” Bending down I took his elbow, eased him to his feet and steered him into the building towards his apartment.

Mrs Royston made an appearance before Dee-Dee could even get his key in the lock of his door. She looked at us suspiciously, her eyes darting between us.

“I saw you from my living room window. What were you doing out there, why were you digging? It isn’t your place to dig. The contractors service the gardens.”

I decided truth was the simplest defence. “We found a dead cat down the road, Mrs Royston. We decided it would be kinder to give it a decent burial instead of dumping it in a bin or leaving it to rot by the wayside. Would you prefer me to dig it back up again?”

She sniffed. “That won’t be necessary, though I hope you haven’t set a precedent. We can’t have people turning the gardens into a pet cemetery. It’s unhygienic.”

“I’m sure it won’t happen, Mrs Royston. Now if you’ll excuse us.” Taking the key from Dee-Dee, I unlocked his door.

Once inside I insisted we both give our hands a thorough wash after handling the dead animal. Afterwards I put the kettle on to make tea while he slumped at the kitchen table.

He looked exhausted. I studied him as I waited for the kettle to boil, but didn’t speak until the tea was made and I was sitting opposite him at the table. I glanced around the untidy kitchen. “This place is a mess again, Dee, and so are you.”

“I know.” He flicked his eyelids up to glance at me and then lowered them again. “I’ve been depressed, let things slip.”

“When did you last have a bath or shower?”

He shrugged.

“A few days from the look of you.” I pushed a hand through my hair. “What the fuck is going on? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for weeks, and why shove that money in my mailbox? Why not give it to me in person?”

“Sorry.” The tears started again, rocking his body. “I couldn’t face you.”

I was appalled. “Because of what happened? Did you feel I took advantage of you after all? I swear I didn’t mean to. You seemed okay when you left that morning.”

“No, Simon, no. You don’t understand.” Pulling up his grubby t-shirt he wiped his eyes. “I was, am, fine with that night. I enjoyed it even if it was a drunken mistake. I didn’t want to see you because soon I won’t be able to see you and I hate the thought of it so much. I thought not seeing you and not getting to be better friends with you might make it easier for me to move away.”

“Move away?” I stared at him in total bafflement. “What do you mean move away? Jesus, but you talk in riddles.”

“I have to sell the apartment. I don’t want to, but I have to.”

“Sell?” I was shocked to the core. “No! Why? What the hell has happened? Is there some problem with your uncle’s finances?”

“Anne’s.”

“Anne’s?” I half got up and sat back down again. “Dee-Dee.” I took a deep breath. “Tell me exactly what you’re talking about, in straightforward terms, or I will strangle you.”

“Anne phoned me, the same day I left your place. I was so excited. She hasn’t phoned me in years. The only contact I usually get is an email with photos attached and a demand for artwork.”

“What did she want?”

The gall of the woman! I had to fight to control my anger as he unravelled the mystery of why he’d gone to ground.

I was almost as cross with him as I was with her. I let him know it. “You should have told me instead of hiding away and making yourself ill over it. I’ve been worrying myself sick because I thought you were upset about what happened between us.”

“You’ve already helped me through one crisis.” He twisted his shirt hem in his fingers. “The last thing I wanted to do was burden you with another one. Anyway, there’s nothing you can do about this. I’ll have to sell up. It’s the only way to get the money she needs. At first she said I didn’t need to move. All I had to do was use the apartment as equity to raise the money for her. I didn’t understand, so I looked it up. I can’t do it, Simon. I’ll never be able to pay the loan back from my allowances, not and be able to live as well. I’d end up losing it anyway. I told her. She said I’d have to sell up and find myself a place to rent.”

His mother claimed to be in financial straits, something about the IRS and a whopping unpaid tax bill regarding the nightclubs she owned with her partners. She told Dee-Dee she needed money, a lot of money, so he would have to use his apartment to raise the funds, either by securing a loan against it or by selling. Her argument why revealed a long held grudge. She claimed it should have been hers in the first place. She should have got a portion of her uncle’s estate. He had got everything, and it wasn’t fair. He didn’t need a big apartment, not for himself. It wasn’t like he entertained or had a family. She said her uncle would expect Dee-Dee to do the right thing by her.

I offered a blunt opinion. “You don’t have to sell. She can’t make you.”

“She’s my mother. She said she might go to prison if she doesn’t pay her back taxes.”

“Is she bankrupt? Are her partners? Is she in danger of losing her home?”

“I don’t think so.” He rubbed his forehead with the knuckle of his thumb. “She said she owed thousands of dollars in tax and it was up to me to bail her out or they might lose the clubs. She said it was money I owed her, because I got what she should have had.”

“Listen, Dee, the way I see it you don’t owe her anything. It might sound harsh, but you don’t. She gave birth to you, but she hasn’t been a mother in any real sense, has she, be honest?”

“I suppose not.” He gazed at me, his eyes sad. “I don’t want to leave the bakery, Si.”

“Then don’t. Your uncle left you his estate because obviously he loved you. He went to lengths to make sure you were taken care of and protected after his death. This is your home. It seems to me Anne and her partners are trying to safeguard their own assets by stripping you of yours. They must have some resources. I mean one of her fellas runs a publishing business, she’s a successful writer, and they have the clubs. Let them sell them. It was their responsibility to make sure they paid the proper taxes. It’s now their responsibility to find the money to pay the deficit.”

“You don’t think I should sell?”

“No. I don’t. Why should you lose your home so they can maintain their lifestyle without making any sacrifices at all? It isn’t right. They should look to liquidise some of their own assets, not rob you of yours. I didn’t know your uncle, but my guess is he’d be appalled and angry at what Anne is trying to do to you. I think he’d also be cross with you. He didn’t leave you this apartment so you could sell it and hand over the cash to the first person who asked, leaving yourself homeless in the process.”

“I’ve been so scared and confused, Si. I haven’t been able to think straight. Anne said I had to get her the money. She said it was my duty. She shouted at me. I didn’t know how to say no. I didn’t know if I had the right to say no, with her being my mother. I know it makes me sound stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, Dee. You’re just a shade or two more innocent than some people. We’ll straighten this out, don’t worry.”

“She’s flying over in a few days time, to help put the apartment on the market.”

“Call her. Tell her to put the airfare towards her tax bill. I know it’s none of my business, and you can tell me to butt out, but if you want me to I’ll call her and have a word.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course. You’re my friend and friends help each other out.”

“Thank you.” He gave a shaky smile and stood up. “Is it okay for me to give you a hug?”

“I’d say so.” I got to my feet. “In fact I think it might be statutory law for friends, especially gay friends, to hug each other in times of crisis.”

After hugging him I patted his back. “No offence, man, but you stink. Go and have a shower and put on some clean clothes while I tidy up in here a bit and make us something to eat.”

“You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I haven’t got anything in, not unless you fancy a bowl of cornflakes doused in sour milk. I haven’t been shopping for days. I haven’t had much appetite.”

“It’ll have to be fish and chips then. I’ll nip to the chippy while you freshen up, but you’re paying for them, seeing as you’re loaded again.”

He laughed, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “Fair enough. There’s some money on the Welsh dresser over there. Help yourself.”