Page 6

H e was a strange little man, Dylan. Skittish and seemingly unsure of everything around him, reluctant to even step close to the staircase up to the main house.

I didn’t really blame him because upstairs was all musty smells and dust. I hadn’t dared to open the fridge door but had run the washing machine on empty to get rid of what was clearly mould on the door seal.

Simple hygiene. Something this man had no doubt once mastered, since the kitchen cupboards were neatly stacked. I’d noticed when I’d had a little look around, still not convinced he wasn’t hiding bodies up here.

No bodies. Just the remnants of what had once been a family home.

Toys and clothes put away in the children’s rooms; what had once been the living room, now a space full of boxes.

Papers and folders were piled in the master bedroom on the top floor.

Yeah, I was nosy, and I told him that when I reported back that there were no leaks or damage, no squatters trashing his house and suggested he should turn on the heating for a bit, since it felt so cold and unloved up there.

He squirmed at that comment, and with every well-meant sentence that got that response, I was building a picture.

Money. He simply had none left, and I could understand that.

He wasn’t working and had fought all these court cases, travelling back and forth—I didn’t even want to think about potential child support payments that now had him sitting here like a broken spare part.

He had to snap out of this. Easier said than done.

But he did as he was told, even if he did protest while doing it, and I liked that.

There was still some go in him, and I used it to the max.

Gave him simple chores, therapeutic tasks like scrubbing out the sink, wiping down the surfaces while I hoovered around.

Even the beds upstairs were now bare mattresses as the washing machine did round after round.

He made me a cup of tea. I took that as a massive win, despite having to provide the milk from across the lawn.

“I think we should call it a day now,” I decided, having forced him back outside to sit on his patio. No crying. What a difference twenty-four hours could make.

“Thank you,” he said. He wouldn’t look at me, still full of shame and embarrassment, which was a good thing, and I told him as much. He clearly didn’t believe me.

“So what now?” he asked.

“I think…” I said that a lot. Perhaps I should extend my vocabulary. “We take a stroll down to Tesco. Get supplies. Then we go over to my place and cook. I put those other sheets in the wash to freshen them up, and they still have another hour in the tumble dryer.”

“You’re so domestic it scares me.”

“I’ve run things on my own for years. My son and his husband aren’t exactly domestic gods, and Agnes who used to help us had her third baby last year, so she’s not as available as she used to be.

In a way, I suppose redundancy came in handy, both for myself and my son.

He hasn’t worked since but is instead studying for a degree.

He wants to finally finish school and make something else of his life. I’m too old for all that.”

“We’re never too old to learn something new,” he argued softly. “Your son and his husband?”

“Yes, husband,” I repeated sharply. I wasn’t having any stupidity here. “Is that an issue?”

“Absolutely not,” he said. “I just never…paid attention to what was happening beyond these walls.”

“That’s city life, isn’t it? We live next door to each other on this tiny, gated road, and, well, I sometimes say hello to Mrs Aziz, but she spends most of her time in Dubai now, so that house is empty apart from her maid, who comes and goes.

And the Fitzgibbons only step out of their car and scurry inside.

I don’t think either of them has ever said hello to me. Who’s that guy again in number ten?”

He stared at me blankly.

“Mr Parsons,” I filled in. “Plastic surgeon. The kids say he looks like a robot. Rude, I know, but I have to agree with them.”

He twitched again at the mention of the kids. Something I intended to fix .

“I will be mentioning the grandchildren, and my son, a lot. It’s something I can’t not do.”

Nods. Acceptance with a small sigh. Hard work, this man, but once in a while, there would be a small smile, like the real him was still somewhere on the inside.

He must have been a successful human at some point.

Confident. Happy. I wondered what he’d been like, in his former life as a father, husband, lawyer.

“Tell me about your work,” I tried.

“No,” he said. “Talk about your family instead. Less painful.”

Grumpy bugger.

“Okay, well, Jay is ten, and Jasmine is six. Biological siblings, both of them now adopted. Came to the boys as fosters a few years back, and it’s been one hell of a roller coaster. Wouldn’t change a thing, though.”

“I see.” He didn’t, his mind clearly elsewhere.

“What do you want to talk about?”

He cleared his throat, suddenly flustered. “I didn’t mean to offend, you know, about your son being gay.” He was looking straight at me. I liked that. Honesty. “I don’t want to sound like a cliché…but I absolutely do. ”

“What? Your cousin is gay? Brother?” I smirked. Usual thing. I suppose we were both total clichés.

“No,” he said quietly.

“Not your cousin then,” I said dryly, dragging a faint smirk out of him.

“No.” He was kind of funny. Strangely, this man made me laugh, but I still made my point.

“I don’t take homophobia or any kind of hate lightly.

There’s no need for it. I didn’t know my son had a thing for men, not really, until he dragged Gray home and I kept finding him in my son’s bed.

Penny dropped pretty quickly then, and looking back, maybe there were signs, but as a father, I simply didn’t understand back then.

Now I can see things differently, and it was actually the best thing that ever happened to Reuben, finding Gray.

And to me too, I have to admit, because that silly boy changed my life.

If not for him, I’d still be living in a council flat in Peckham. ”

That seemed to catch his attention.

“That’s quite a change.” He sat up a little straighter.

“A story for another time. I think that laundry can look after itself while the two of us take a stroll. ”

“You sound like my father.”

“In a good way, I hope, and anyway, we’re similar in age, are we not?”

“You said you were, what? Fifty-eight?”

“Yes.” I smiled. My age. Sore point. “Still a few years off being able to draw my pension. Hence, a job will be required at some point. Can’t be sat around like this for the next two years. The grandchildren are at school all day; I’ll lose my mind.”

“I’m fifty-one,” he said quietly. “And I’ve already lost mine.”

I couldn’t say the company was thrilling, but it was starting to feel like a more honest one.

Hours later, his bed was neatly made with fresh bedding, and I’d pretty much forced him to occupy my patio chairs for a change, a glass of juice in his hand.

No more tea for him. Mine was decaf; I wanted to have a full night’s sleep without having to constantly get up to empty my bladder.

Something I, of course, shared with my new friend.

“Your place is nice,” he said, looking over his shoulder. He’d been inside and inspected my humble abode, which was neat and tidy. There were a few books and things covering the surfaces, making the place look lived in, but it was clean, and it was mine. Well…

“The house belongs to the boys. I pay rent and do chores. Keep everyone in check. Wake them up in the mornings and sort out the finances on occasion and valet the cars. Driving is something I’m rather fond of, so I do a bit on the side for Gray’s manager, running around bigwigs for events.

It can be entertaining, the money’s decent, and you meet some interesting people. ”

“How interesting?” That he was talking was a good thing. Major progress from earlier.

“Rich. Famous. Doesn’t mean smart, though. Some of them are a bit… dense.”

He grimaced. “That doesn’t surprise me. I met quite a few dense people in my former profession. It makes no difference how many law degrees you have if you can’t hold a decent conversation and spurt nonsense you’ve read on social media as facts.”

“I stay off all that. Watch the news in the evenings and still read the papers. I like a proper paper. There’s something grounding about sitting down and reading it in the garden.”

“With a cup of tea,” he added .

I chuckled. “You know me already.”

We sat in silence for a while, comforting smells wafting out from the simple stew in a pot in the oven.

“You don’t have any photos up inside. No pictures of those kids. At least, I couldn’t see any.”

He was obviously paying attention.

“I usually see them every day, morning and night, and have them down here all weekend. My son has always lived with me, and then Gray did too. Even now, when they’re away, I speak to them on the phone, so I still see them. I’ve never been keen on photos, but I have some on my phone, I think. Here.”

He flinched, but I held up a picture of Jay and Jasmine grinning into the camera. He looked away.

“I know it’s painful, and I know how it feels. I don’t mean to make you upset, but you did ask.”

“Feels too personal.” He shuddered slightly. “You don’t have to feed me,” he tried, once again changing the subject.

“And you don’t have to be here. If you want your own company, you can just go back to your place. I know socialising is not always the answer, but you are always welcome here. Just turn up. Knock on the patio doors. Make yourself at home. Grab a cup of tea.”

“You mentioned…” He looked uncertain, like he wasn’t sure of me at all, which was fair enough. We didn’t know each other, and I’d more than invaded his privacy, demanding to clean his home and getting right in his face. Forcing him to shower and put on some clothes.

Not my place. Not my tasks to complete. But I was a stubborn old man who was bored and lonely. I had a feeling he was too.

“I think we can help each other,” I said in a voice I hoped was friendly and inviting. I had been known to be stern and brusque at times. Came with the job.

The previous job. The one I no longer had.

“You said you worked at a hotel?”

“I did. Head doorman at The Clouds Westminster.”

“Nice.” He didn’t look impressed.

“It was a good career. I enjoyed every day there. I dealt with people from every path of life, from the homeless, the petty criminals, the people on the game, gangs of every sort to the ultra-rich and famous. The spectrum of humans who passed through those doors was broad and varied.”

“I can imagine. You must have seen some things.”

“So must you, having worked in law.”

“Building law is not that exciting. It’s mostly wordings and fine print, balancing the laws of planning versus the client wanting to get as much profit as possible out of their projects. At the end of the day, it’s all about money.”

“Of course it is. It’s why we work.”

“And when we don’t, it’s…difficult.”

“You feel like you lose all purpose. Like you’re not even a functioning human anymore.”

“I don’t know if working would make me feel human again. I think I’ve forgotten how to be anyone of any substance.”

“Don’t say that,” I said cheerily. “Now, let’s eat, and then I promise you, you’ll feel better about a lot of things.”

He huffed. “That’s a big promise to make.”

Perhaps it was.