Meeting the English (20 page)

‘Steady on.' And Myfanwy said:

‘I was living with my lover at sixteen, I'm not opposed.'

‘She said she was eighteen at first,' said Ron.

‘I'm just pointing out,' said Myfanwy, ‘that I can't give financial support. And nor can Juliet's father. So it would have to be you.' And Ron said:

‘Anyway, we only frotted.'

*   *   *

‘Well,' said Bill, ‘I think that's conclusive.'

‘I'd never have believed it,' said Giles. ‘Never. Phillip was tight as a virgin's arse all his days. Especially about rights.' Struan said:

‘Sometimes when stroke patients come round, they're no the same at all. Sometimes they're terrible, to be honest. I've known nice douce wee men do nothing but swear their heads off—'

‘And Phillip Prys has become a generous old dotard,' said Giles. ‘Well, I'm blessed. I really think I am.'

‘This is really something, though, Struan,' said Bill, ‘this is a huge, huge breakthrough. You'll have to tell that consultant, Struan.'

‘Aye,' said Struan, wretchedly, remembering Shirin, ‘but that'll be down to Mrs Prys, no me.'

‘That's right,' said Giles, ‘we'll have to tell Shirin. Have to tell Myfanwy too, can't imagine she'll be delighted actually. She can hardly stick him in a nursing home now. Fortunes of therapy he'll have to have.'

‘Coffee?' said Bill, getting out a flask.

‘In which case, Shirin probably should sell
The Pit,
' said Giles. ‘Keep him at home, get him on a programme. Probably what she's thinking of. Probably saw this coming. Thinking of Phillip all along. You're right, Struan, I was playing Lord Peter Wimsey. Wise young chap you are.'

‘It's all good,' said Bill.

‘All good,' said Giles, grinning at Bill.

‘I brought some panettone,' said Bill, and Giles took a big piece. Bill raised his coffee mug.

‘Well, I'd just like to say,' said Bill, ‘that this was a beautiful thing for me. This is a man healed we've seen here today. A man revived. An incredible thing to witness. And I'd like to raise a mug to Struan, here, to thank him.'

‘Hear, hear!' said Giles and raised a coffee to Struan, who was stooped over the wheelchair, adjusting the wraps, the muscles of his stomach and arms showing in the gesture like the famous Greek statue of the discus thrower. Two months in the sun had expanded and joined Struan's freckles into a creditable golden tan and bleached his hair to something like brass.

‘Me?' said Struan. ‘I havenae done anything.'

‘You're right,' said Giles to Bill. ‘He is a beautiful young man.'

*   *   *

Then Juliet summoned herself. She said:

‘Look, all I've done is fail my exams and had a snog. I've not, you know, dropped off the cliff of existing as a person. I don't want to move back with you, Mum, cos I think I'd go mad. And I don't want to go back to school. I'd be better getting a job, I honestly think so. And I don't want to move in with Ron, either. I just want a boyfriend. You know. Someone who likes me and likes me rabbiting on and doesn't mind how fat I am.'

‘Well,' said Ron Fox, ‘I could have a go at that.'

And he turned Juliet's face to his, and smiled with his shiny eyes, and she got funny squelching embarrassed heaving feelings inside as she gazed at him and remembered about the knickers.

And Myfanwy flinched, twitched, and everything might have been very different had they not, at that very moment, heard the creak and drag of the wheelchair, reentering the house.

‘Well,' said Myfanwy, ‘we'll see. But first, we have to talk to Struan.'

18

Struan was on his own. Giles had pushed off. Those were his very words. He said, ‘Struan, I'm going to push off now. Can't tell you how relieved I feel about you know, all that.'

‘But,' said Struan (Shirin, Myfanwy, Back-up, Help), and Giles had merely waved.

‘A most serendipitous morning,' he said, ‘especially the dip. Very serene. I'll be in touch, Struan, very soon – take care of the tortoise.' And then he'd dashed off. Ran, in fact, to catch up with Bill, and off they went down the street, loping shiny-headed Bill, teddy bear Giles. They were suited, Struan could see that – Giles always looking for consolation, Bill to console – but it seemed miles home, and heaving the wheelchair up the ramp was no joke, solo. He was sad and bruised before he even entered the kitchen, and spotted its inhabitants, seated round the table for all the world like the three woebegone gnomes who lived in the garden two doors up from his gran, forever dining off an all-too-convincing toadstool.

‘Been shopping, Struan?' said Myfanwy.

‘Hello, Struan,' said Juliet, who was still wearing the wee pink dress, a bit mucky now, ‘I've failed all my GCSEs but I don't want to go to the convent. I thought I might not go back to school at all. What do you think? Ron came in for a coffee. You remember Ron. Ron taught Struan English, Mum, at school. You didn't see Celia out there, did you? Her mother's been calling. Shall I make you a coffee?'

Mr Fox said: ‘Struan! You're back! We looked for you. How're you feeling? Quite a night, eh? Did you know you have a bit of a black eye coming up? Just a bit of bruising?'

Myfanwy said, ‘No coffee, Juliet. Please don't sit down, Struan.'

‘You what?' said Juliet. ‘Don't be stupid, Mum.'

‘Why don't you want me to sit down?' said Struan. And something about the way he said it made them all shut up. He loomed above them: his head up with the rosemary and colanders, nearly scraping the pink, beamed ceiling.

Myfanwy stood up too. She cleared her throat. She took a sip of coffee and put the cup down. She said: ‘I'll get straight to the point, Struan.'

And she made her points, one by one. How it worked was: her words rolled out of her mouth and expanded and flattened and filled the bright kitchen with cold, and the Points stuck into her words and held them down.

Point 1,
the MG. The car. Struan, said Myfanwy, had been driving the MG. Mr Riley had seen him in it the previous night, late, driving through Cricklewood, where Mr Riley lived. Mr Riley had thought he had seen him in it there before then, but hadn't got the registration number for sure. Last night, though—

(Struan, blindsided, groping: You're saying I was driving the car?

Juliet: Struan doesn't drive, Mum.

Struan: Aye, I do.

Myfanwy: When did you get in last night, Struan?

Struan: Four in the morning. And this is a tower of shite.)

Point 2.
The cash (£160). Myfanwy had left an envelope of cash in the study desk the previous lunchtime for Mr Riley. It contained cash (£160 in £10 notes) for materials Mr Riley had agreed to collect from a wholesaler's in Cricklewood the next morning. But when Mr Riley went to collect it at five o'clock, it was gone. He then recalled that at three o'clock in the afternoon he had seen, through the window, Struan Robertson rummaging in the desk, and that when Mr Riley entered the room, Struan Robertson had acted funny.

(Struan: Acted funny?

Myfanwy: You had written words on a notebook.

Juliet: But we went to the pub. Yesterday. We went to the pub, Struan was there.

Myfanwy: In the afternoon?

Juliet: I was out shopping.

Struan: Oh, aye. Those words.

Myfanwy: Exactly.)

Point 3:
The Bank. And then, at four in the afternoon, Mr Riley had seen Struan Robertson in the bank.

(Ron Fox: That really isn't the Struan I know.

Struan: Aye, I was in the bank. Uh huh.

Myfanwy: Were you his teacher? Didn't you write his reference?)

The bank was significant because, over the last week, there had been several large withdrawals in cash from Juliet's educational trust.

(Juliet, outraged: That's you though. You did that, Mum. Shirin told me.

Myfanwy: I removed some reasonable living expenses for you, Juliet. Shopping. And some expenses for Mr Riley. Quite reasonable when you are living in Yewtree, and all agreed with Giles. I did not write out three large cheques to cash and forge his signature.

Struan: You're saying I did?)

Point 4:
£1,246.

That was the total amount of cash that had been withdrawn from the trust using the cheques.

And those were the Points. When they were all stabbed in, and vibrating in their targets like spears, Myfanwy looked up at Struan Robertson, tall and grey with the tendons of his jaw showing suddenly. ‘Of course,' said Myfanwy, ‘I hate to make accusations. We have all been so open with you Struan, so trusting. But the cheque seems conclusive. Besides – who else would have the opportunity?'

‘Your boy would,' said Struan, ‘Jake Prys, that's who.'

Myfanwy smiled: ‘Jake hasn't been anywhere near the house for months,' she said.

‘He has so,' said Struan.

‘Which is very, very painful for me,' trilled Myfanwy.

‘He comes by at night. I've met him,' said Struan.

‘And I am sure, very, very painful for him,' added Myfanwy.

‘It's him that gave me this shiner and all,' said Struan, ‘he's a wee shite, if you want my honest opinion.'

Myfanwy stepped back. Juliet squeaked: ‘Jake was at the pub last night last night, Mum, I told you.'

‘You're sacked,' said Myfanwy, to Struan.

‘That's not for you to say,' said Struan, turning on his heel and marching to the sink, ‘but as it happens, I was going to hand in my notice anyway. You're saving me the bother.'

‘It's not as easy as that,' said Myfanwy. ‘We will be needing that money back.'

‘Well you won't get it here,' said Struan, turning on the tap, and testing the water with his finger for temperature, ‘because I didn't take it.'

‘We'll get the police,' said Myfanwy.

‘Fine,' said Struan, filling a glass, and turning to face them, ‘you do that. I'll repeat what I've said. Jake and all. Fucking druggie, if you ask me. See his eyes? Meantime, I'm giving you all notice. I'm away. I'll get the night bus this evening.' And he drank the glass of water without pausing, poured a fresh one, and went up the stairs, carrying it.

‘You,' said Juliet to Myfanwy, wiping her eyes with her skirt, ‘are a stupid cow.'

‘I really can vouch for his character, Mrs Prys,' said Ron Fox.

‘I'll have the law on you,' said Myfanwy, to Ron. ‘She's underage.'

‘Don't,' said Juliet, ‘listen to her. I'm sixteen.'

And Ron Fox got something out of his wallet. ‘My card,' he said, and gave one to Myfanwy, and one to Juliet. ‘Call me,' he murmured to Juliet, stroking her cheek, ‘I love sixteen.' Then he left.

‘And you,' said Myfanwy to Juliet, ‘you can go upstairs and start packing.'

‘You must be joking,' said Juliet. ‘I'm going to take Dad his lunch and make him comfortable for his nap.' Myfanwy stared, her eyes bulging from her head.

‘Well,' said Juliet, ‘someone has to, and you just fired Struan. Would you like it to be you?'

19

Struan was flat out on his bed. His skin itched from the pond water. Through the pillow, he heard the front door bang, then bang again. He wondered if he should go to the phone box and tell his gran all about it, then he thought of all the ten pees and fifties he had fed in that box because Myfanwy had told him to, his first day, and all the times Juliet had called Celia and stayed on the line an hour maybe, and the times when he had heard Shirin talking to people in wildly foreign tongues, probably abroad, and he thought fuck them, he'd just fucking give Gran a call from the phone in the hall. Then he realized he was shivering, and he wrapped the blanket round him tighter and thought about Myfanwy Prys saying those things with her pink painted mouth. He thought about his gran, hearing them. He thought about Jake Prys, lounging against the pub wall with his cig, and about Shirin, surrendering her mouth, her upreaching throat like a lily of the Amazon. And Struan put his pillow over his head and hoped to cease, there and then.

He thought no one would come for him, ever, but after a goodish time, he heard a heavy step on the stair and the door was kicked open, and ‘Struan,' said Juliet, ‘I brought you a sandwich.'

Struan lifted the pillow and peeped. Juliet had washed up; she was wearing her old white dress with the wee brown jacket on top of it. Her eyes were big and earnest over a tray bearing a large mug of tea and promising-looking brown object. He sat up.

‘It's toasted,' said Juliet, ‘the sandwich. Cheese and tomato. I peeled the tomatoes. And I gave Dad his soup and put his feet up and put a rug over him, but I did not change his nappy.'

‘Should be OK,' said Struan, ‘I washed him down at the Ponds.'

‘Please don't leave, though,' said Juliet, ‘I can't do nappies.'

‘Incontinence pads. That's not my lookout,' said Struan, grabbing the sandwich. ‘Do you want some of this?'

‘No,' said Juliet, sitting on the end of the bed with a small sigh, ‘I'm taking pills, Struan. I might as well tell you. They make me buzz around and not eat things. I've lost twenty-three pounds. Celia gave them to me, the pills, but now my hair's falling out.'

‘Then stop taking them,' said Struan, gulping tea, ‘for Christ's sake.'

‘I can't right now,' said Juliet. ‘There's too much else going on, but I will in a bit.'

Struan gobbled and chewed. ‘Juliet,' he said, ‘your dad, right? You know the wee finger thing? Your dad's definitely getting that back, a bit of control. He can signal, yes and no.'

‘Yay,' said Juliet, flopping back against the wall, ‘I knew I was right. Sucks and triple sucks to Mum.'

‘Yeah,' said Struan. ‘Look, you'll have to ask Giles about it, OK? Get him to fill you in with the details. He was there. Don't let them talk you out of that, when I'm gone. Not this time. Giles, talk to him. The wee finger on the left, OK? And you need to make sure your dad can see you, so you have to go right over round to the left, because his vision is restricted, I'm sure of it—'