Agatha
After the champagne was poured Agatha presented her guests with a starter of filo parcels with brie and cranberry on rocket with a balsamic glaze dotted prettily around the plate. She was particularly proud of this dish, having made it up all by herself. She felt certain that something of this caliber would be served in a Jamie Oliver restaurant, and after taking 13 pictures and posting 9 of them on Instagram she reluctantly placed them in front of her guests.
Sitting down and eagerly picking up her knife and fork she began the conversation she had been rehearsing in her head all day.
"So Charlie, I hear you've -"
She was cut off abruptly.
"My name is Charles," he said brusquely, looking at her under his mad mop of curly hair.
"Oh, sure. Sorry Charles."
Agatha sucked in her breath sharply, it was most definitely not a time for her sensitivities to surface. 'Don't cry, don't cry' she thought, keeping her eyes down on her food and refocusing her efforts on the conversation. Try as she might, she couldn't bring herself to speak.
Charles.
'Ok so she called me Charlie again. This night can not end fast enough,' he thought grimly as he sawed way through the overcooked filo parcel. Yes he felt slightly bad, and yes he was perhaps a tad rude to her, but who calls a complete stranger by a nickname anyway? A nickname he only allowed one person to use. Ever. Still, he felt bad, especially when he happened to glance up as she was trying to quash her tears. He checked the clock on the wall. 'Only ten minutes have passed', he thought glumly. 'Only another 2 hours and 50 minutes before it would be polite to leave.'
Ruby
'Is she CRYING?' Thought Ruby critically. 'Wow, she needs a Valium or something.' Ruby had barely said a word since they had sat down, focussing all her energies instead on forcing the inedible substance down her throat. Once she had successfully swallowed the last morsel she placed her knife and fork down carefully, so as not to draw attention to herself and placed her hands in her lap. Her fingers started tapping out a rhythm - she always did this when she was nervous. She didn't even realise she was doing it most of the time. The silence became deafening.
Ben
After what seemed like an age after "Charlie's" little outburst, Ben finished his tasteless starter and asked a question.
"So you're in a jungle and you have no way of getting out alive. Would you rather die quickly from being eaten by an anaconda or die slowly but gracefully by a snake bite? I must warn you, the anaconda will spit your bones out afterwards, leaving them floating in a swamp somewhere, whereas the snake bite would be so poisonous that it'll turn your kidneys to mush."
They guests looked at Ben with a mixture of disgust and horror on their faces. The awkwardness fell like a blanket so he tried again.
"I think I would prefer the anaconda. I mean how cool would it be to see inside of a creature that big? Who knows what you'd see inside its belly? Boots? Umbrellas? Shopping trolleys?" He laughed and looked around at their faces, before stopping abruptly and sighing. He picked up his champagne and downed the rest of the glass, suddenly wishing he had kept his stupid mouth quiet.
Agatha.
Although she had stopped herself from crying, she was thoroughly unsuccessful in playing the perfect host. Not for the first time she wondered why on earth she was doing this dinner, for 3 complete strangers. It was all because of her nan, her crazy, stupid, dead nan.
Chap 2
Two years previously.
Ben stepped out of the ground floor flat that he shared with his brother and gulped the cold air deep into his lungs. It was frosty out this morning, his breath misting in front of him, but Ben hardly felt the cold, he was just so happy to be outside.
He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and walked the short distance to the local corner shop, Dougs, where the only items on his list was 2 strawberry cornettos and a bottle of vimto. His brother had had a hankering for these things, and once he had something in his mind it was impossible to steer him away. But Ben didn't mind in the slightest, he always enjoyed his brothers whims and he hadn't been out of the house for a few days, not since Giles' last bout of pneumonia.
Ben lived with his older brother who was 18 months his senior and who had been living with motor neurones disease for the last 10 years. It was just the two of them...their father died when Ben was two and their mother walked out on them when Giles' disease became more than just a whisper. She found a fella, the kind who preys on vulnerable women then takes them for a whole lot of money before magically disappearing forever and a day. Except he hadn't reckoned on Trisha blackthorn and she completely dug her claws in and refused to let go. So they left, rowing and slapping one another on a beautiful Sunday morning in June, and never came back.
Since then they had been there for each other...Ben became the provider when Giles couldn't work any more; Ben became the carer when Giles' body wouldn't work any more; and Ben became the home maker - cooking, cleaning, doing the diy, when Giles didn't have the energy. But Giles provided the emotional support that Ben needed and they were best friends.
Ben had his own IT consultancy business which meant he could mostly work from home, but a few days a week he had to go to meetings in the city. It worried him every time he had to leave his brother but Giles had a panic button and they had a few neighbours who were willing to check in on him from time to time.
Ben was dressed thoroughly inappropriately for a visit to Dougs, in his superdry jeans, his Armani leather biker jacket and his Gucci sneakers. Only 10 minutes ago he'd been slumped in his lazy chair playing a great video game in his most treasured and loved pyjamas, faded, threadbare but oh so comfortable. He liked to look good, he felt happy when people admired him and actually really enjoyed clothes.
He liked dressing well, smelling good, and crying...really crying. He cried over everything...John Lewis adverts on the TV, when he finished a good book, or visits to the donkey sanctuary. He liked to listen to people's problems, he was always being told how good a listener he was.
He had never really had a relationship with anyone - well not since the 6th form when he had fallen in love with Gemma May Powell - a busty blonde with a killer ponytail and skirts shorter than Ronnie Corbett. He had no time and no interest, he loved his life. It was just him and his brother, and that's the way Ben wanted it.
He reached Dougs and pushed the door open, hearing the familiar tinkle of the bell. Just behind him an elderly lady he vaguely recognised entered, so he held the door open until she was through. The shop had a heavy air of quietness about it, and although this was nothing unusual - it was only 9 o clock on a Sunday morning, and most of Dougs customers were still in bed - there was something almost eerie about it. Ben glanced around cautiously but saw nothing untoward.
"Hello? Mr Singh?" he called out tentatively.
"Oh hello, we are closed," came the sing song welsh accent of the shop owner.
"Are you sure? Your door sign says open."
"Oh no, we are closed. Goodbye."
"Now listen up mr Singh, this charming young man and I have come into your dingy little shop to buy something," said the elderly lady behind Ben, making him jump. "I've come in for frozen peas and a card for my friend Eleanor, and this young man has come in for - what have you come in for dear?"
"Oh, um cornettos and vimto" he said quietly to her.
"Well don't tell me, tell him."
"Oh right, um Cornettos and Vimto. Mr Singh."
"That's right, now come out here so we can see you're alright."
"Oh I can't do that Mrs Monroe, please, you must go."
At this point a young man wearing a pink balaclava came round the aisle and held a gun up to them both. Ben instinctively put his hands up like he knew you were supposed to in these situations and started thinking about the things he should've done before he left. 'Who will look after Giles? Who will pay my monthly subscription to canoe and kayak? Oh thank goodness I put clean underwear on.'
"Matthew Goodyear, give me that toy and take off your sisters balaclava."
The person under the mask faltered and said "no, now give me your money."
"Matthew Goodyear, if you think I'm falling for that silly voice then you are even more stupid than you look right now. I'd know you anywhere, delivered you into this world for goodness sake."
His shoulders slumped and Matthew Goodyear took off his mask.
"Hand over the gun."
He handed it sullenly over to the old woman.
"Enough of that cheek, boy. Now what will your mum say when she hears about your latest escapades?"
"I dunno," he scuffed the floor with his shoe.
"Beg pardon? Speak clearly. I'll tell you what she'll say, she'll tell you that she's sending you off to juvenile detention again for your 9th attempt at armed robbery."
At this point a shaken Mr Singh walked from the back of the shop and took his place behind the counter.
"And as for you Mr Singh, you should know better than to let this boy bully you. He's done it to you three times now, will you never learn? Honestly, it's a wonder this shop is still standing."
"Can I go now Mrs Monroe?"
"Yes you can go, but I'll be keeping this." She indicated the gun.
"Oh but it's my sisters, she'll kill me if I don't bring it home."
"Good, then maybe we'll all have some peace. One more attempt like this and I'll strangle you with my own hands."
With that he scampered out of the door and ran out of sight. Ben looked in awe at the old lady.
"Oh don't look at me like that," she said, rolling her eyes. "I've known that boy for 15 years, he's good really, just a bit angry at the world. Now Mr singh, have yourself a sweet cup of tea then pull yourself together. You really must not let these teenagers take the better of you. Now, what did I come in for again?" she muttered to herself.
"Peas and a card for your friend Eleanor I believe Mrs Monroe."
She looked at Ben suspiciously and then nodded. He thrust out his hand towards her.
"Hello, I'm Ben. Ben Blackthorn. I live in -"
"I know who you are. How is your brother, Giles?"
"You know about Giles? Um he's been better, just had pneumonia. But
He's asking for ice cream so he must be on the mend."
"Can your brother wait for his ice cream or will he be anxious if you don't return?"
"Why, are you thinking of taking me hostage now as well?" Ben joked, producing one of his best winks.
The old lady gave him a withering look and shook her head.
"Those tricks might work on the young ladies of the world, but they don't work on me."
"Oh no Mrs Monroe, Mr Blackthorn is gay, he does not wink at young ladies," interjected the shopkeeper.
"Ben Blackthorn is most definitely not a homosexual I'll have you know, he just likes to pretend he is so people will leave him alone."
Both men's jaws dropped and they both looked at the woman, unable to speak.
"How do you..."
"Now Benjamin, come with me for a quick cup of tea at Sally's. I'm parched and I think you need to leave that flat for a while."
"Oh no, thank you but I really should be getting back to my brother."
"He's fine, I think it's you who needs looking after in my opinion. Right Mr Singh, don't forget that sugary tea, you'll feel right as rain in no time. I'll be back in an hour for my peas."
With that she marched back out of the door and waited for Ben outside.
Ben looked bewildered and found himself following her orders. He waved to the shop owner who simply did not look surprised at anything concerning Mrs Monroe, and walked out to the street.
"Now Sally will be expecting me to buy a stale Belgian bun from her display, because it's what I normally do. But it's a messy thing to eat and it always gets stuck in my dentures so I won't be having one today. But she is a funny old thing and will be offended if I decline so I'm going to let you have it but you must make sure you eat it discreetly or she'll be calling her big brothers on you."
Without being able to get a word in edge ways they arrived at the local greasy spoon, Sally's. Ben had come in once, the first time he and his brother had come to check out the flat before they rented it. He had walked back out after a rather dodgy egg roll and lukewarm, insipid cup of coffee and sworn on his brothers life that he would never step foot in there again. And now here he was, stepping both his feet back in through the door. Ben glanced towards the flat with a frown.
"Oh hi Atta," Sally, the middle aged woman with voluptuous breasts and brown stained apron shouted.
"It's Mrs Monroe, Sally," she replied with a twinkle in her eye.
"Right you are Atta. I'll get your usual for you now. What does your man here want?"
"Just a tea please."
"Rightio, one big breakfast coming up."
"No," Ben began, but Mrs Monroe put her hand on his arm.
"Just go along with it," she whispered. "Sally isn't all there and she gets awfully depressed if people don't like her food. You just be grateful she doesn't recognise you as the man who vomited up her bacon bap."
"It was an egg roll, and how do you know about that? In fact, Mrs Monroe, how do you know all those things about me?"
"Oh please, call me Atta."
"Alright. Atta."
"A long time ago I was a midwife, as you might have gathered. I delivered babies day and night for many years. I remember every baby that came screaming into my arms, and stay in touch with mothers and their Offspring alike. You are no different. Its just that you didn't know it."
"You...you delivered me? Oh, that's amazing. I never knew."
"No, not all of you do. But your mother keeps in contact with me from time to time."
"My...my mother? Huh, I doubt it, I don't think she even knows that we're living in London. She's too engrossed up her own arse to know anything about us."
"Language, Benjamin."
"Sorry."
"When you were born you were a bright little thing. 21st June, 9lbs 10 if I remember, quite a big baby, especially seeing as your mum was so tiny. Your dad held you in his arms while I dealt with the afterbirth, and I swear he didn't stop crying with happiness for the next hour. That's probably where you get your love of crying from."
"What? You knew my dad? I don't exactly have a "love of crying" - wait, am I like him?"
"No, you're more like her. Giles is more like your dad, you must've seen pictures of him?"
"No, my mum threw all the pictures away when he died, then went out on an all night bender. She left the two of us, young children, on our own."
"You have to understand something about your parents. He was her rock, she couldn't do anything without him. He made her into a mother, he helped her, was patient with her, he loved her, despite her funny ways.
"When your father died she went to pieces...she didn't know how to cope with you young boys, both tearaways, so close in age. I helped her out as much as I could of course, but she didn't want help."
"I don't remember you. Why don't I remember you?"
"I was mostly there at night when you were in bed. I came over most evenings, once or twice helped put you to bed. You used to have a rabbit, what was his name? Bun buns? Buggy?"
"Bugsy. I still have him. I think I remember you. You always had banana flavoured sweets in your bag?"
"That's me. Don't like them myself but kids always enjoyed them."
"Not me. I used to store them in my mouth and hide them when you weren't looking."
"Oh I know you did. I always found them stuck under the dining room table."
"How is she? My mum?"
"Oh she's alright, under the circumstances."
"What circumstances?"
Atta stretched across the table and took his hand. She looked into his eyes and in that moment he knew something was about to change in his life forever.
"She's homeless. That rotten man she took off with kicked her out two years ago and now she's taken to sleeping rough on the streets."
Ben felt the colour drain out of his cheeks.
"I didn't know. She...she never tried to make contact."
"She was too proud...still is. But that doesn't mean she doesn't try to find out all she can about you. I've met her here a few times."
Ben looked around at the cafe with its peeling wallpaper and faded decor. He glanced at the corner where a couple of men were guffawing over a rude joke. He looked back to Atta, who was still holding his hand.
"Here we are my lovelies," said Sally as she navigated her way through the empty tables with a tray.
"Your usual Belgian bun Atta, made sure I put one by for you, and one big breakfast for the young man. Let's hope he's got a stronger constitution these days shall we?" She raised her eyebrows at him knowingly then shoved his shoulder before walking away laughing.
"She likes you, you should be grateful," said Atta, picking up the bun and wrapping a serviette around it.
"Mm. This is lovely, best one yet Sal," she suddenly shouted without looking up.
"Yep, only the best for you Atta."
"It's Mrs Monroe."
"Right you are Atta."
"Go on, tuck in Ben. You'll be needing a pick me up and believe it or not this food is not going to kill you."
Ben picked up his fork and stabbed a sausage, too stunned by the recent revelations to object. He found himself wolfing it down, and surprised himself by actually enjoying it. He mopped up the final remains of yolk with his toast then popped it in his mouth, thinking of something as he did so.
"Why haven't you introduced yourself to me sooner?" He said, when he had finally finished chewing. "I mean you know enough about me and my brother, stuff that nobody else knows. How?" Ben took a swig of his tea.
"It's simple really. I go round when you're not there. I've even got my own key."
Ben choked on his tea and sprayed it on the table in front of him. He made such a commotion that Sally came over to see if he was being sick again, and when she saw that he had spilt tea all over her white tablecloth she found the first thing she could get her hands on, which happened to be the serviette with the Belgian bun in.
Attas eyes widened and she went to grab the incriminating evidence out of her hands but it was too late and Sally was using it to mop up the mess.
Ben, seeing the panic in Attas eyes stood quickly and pointed out of the window, grabbing Sally's arm so abruptly that she dropped it on the floor. Whilst she was craning her neck to see out of the window at whatever Ben was pointing at, atta ducked under the table much faster than you would expect someone of her age to be able to, and retrieved the bun from the napkin, shoving it straight into her handbag.
"What you looking at? I can't see," Sally complained to Ben sullenly.
"Oh it's gone now, I thought it was a golden eagle or something." Ben could see in the corner of his eye that the old lady was giving him the thumbs up.
"In the middle of London?! Really Ben, what were you thinking?" exclaimed Atta, tutting and shaking her head.
"You never know Atta, these zoos have animals escaping all the time. My uncle once saw an emu walking down the street towards him, happy as you like. The emu kicked him in the back, nasty things," she added to Ben.
"It's Mrs Monroe, Sally."
"Right you are Atta. I'd better be getting on with tidying up."
Ben had enjoyed the moment but realisation suddenly hit and he remembered the old lady's confession. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and dropped two notes on the table.
"That should cover it. I'd better get back."
And he walked out of the cafe, slamming the door slightly harder than he had intended to.
Atta shook her head slightly and stood up from the table. 'That could have gone better', she thought, picking up her bag and waving to Sally. She opened the door and saw Ben jogging back towards the shop, his lanky legs taking quite big strides.
Chapter 3
Ben walked in through the front door with the cornettos and vimto and called out cheerfully to let his brother know he was back.
"Giles? I'm home, sorry I'm late, there was an armed robbery at Dougs and some stupid kid totally tried to shoot me. I'm like, totally fine but it was touch and go." He put the Vimto in the fridge and hid the bottle of whiskey that he had concealed in his coat in a cupboard that Giles could no longer reach. "Course I took him out with a near fatal karate chop to the jugular and pinned him down until the police got there. I might even get a medal or something. Giles?" he called out again.
There was still no answer so he walked quickly to the front room to check on him. Still calling he eventually found him passed out by the toilet, lying in a puddle of urine with a trickle of blood above his eye.
"Ok Giles, I'm here, come on big bruv, wake up."
Ben lifted him up gently into a sitting position and put his arms around his slender shoulders. It wasn't the first time Ben had found his brother like this, and although he was used to the piss and shit he could never adjust to seeing his brother so weak and helpless. He slid his other arm under his legs and lifted him effortlessly, placing him on Bens own bed with a pillow under his head.
"Come on brother, time to wake up. I've got a cornetto with your name on it."
Giles still lay unmoving, but Ben seemed unfazed by it. He stripped off his wet clothes and inwardly groaned at the bill he would receive from this much dry cleaning. He stripped down to just his underwear.
"So Giles, I have a question for you. You're in a wrestling competition and you've made it to the final. But the other finalist is a terrifying old woman with superpowers and telepathy and great one liners that you can't beat. Would you rather let her beat you or would you rather just walk away and be the laughing stock of the whole wrestling world?" Ben picked up his towel and turned to head to the bathroom to take a shower when his brother piped up.
"Neither. I'd take her on and I'd win. I'd kick her false teeth out then whack her with her Zimmer frame. Then I'd deliver her a winning blow by saying something clever like "you and your teeth are entirely welcome.""
Ben, still facing the opposite way gave a chuckle and walked out of the room.
"She's wanted to meet you for a really long time you know," he called, trying to raise himself up onto his elbows but failing. "She kept on about how you needed an outlet, how you needed to be a young man again. I just told her that we were ok, you know? We didn't need anyone else."
"It's fine Giles," Ben said, turning slightly so he could see his brother from the corner of his eye. "I just wish I'd known that an old lady was coming in every day to take care of you. And old lady who has a key. And who knows that I cry a lot. And who knows where mum is."
"I didn't think you'd want to see her. She's been out of our lives for so long and you've always spoken of her with such hatred. I just wanted to spare you any more pain."
"It's not up to you to decide for me."
"I know, I knew I was doing the wrong thing but..."
"But what Giles?" Ben came in the room in two strides and towered over the bed. "But you're just trying to protect me? You were just helping me? Taking the burden of knowing our mother was some homeless tramp, wandering from shelter to shelter without a penny to her name? I thought we shared everything, knew everything about each other. Now you've got this secret life that I know nothing about."
There was silence for a moment and Ben thought he had gone too far. He and his brother rarely fought and it was never pleasant when they did.
"For your information Atta and I will be getting married next spring and we are completely and utterly in love."
Ben looked at his brother for a long while then burst out laughing.
"Yep, we've got the honeymoon booked, I think Bali should be pleasant in May, don't you?" Ben slumped on the bed next to his brother and rested his head next to his arm.
"Just shut up Mr lover man."
"Ew, don't lie so close, you're only wearing pants."
"Shut up, you're the one soaked in piss."
"Yeah. On your bed."
Ben picked up the pillow from under his head and threw it down on his brother playfully.
"Loser."
"Idiot."
They lay like this for some time until Ben finally spoke.
"So come on then, how did you come to have a secret tryst with such a lady?"
Giles told him the story then, of how one innocuous day she came and knocked on the door once Ben had gone to a meeting. "It was on a hot day, remember that time in June when we just sat in pants all day with the windows open? Well you'd gone off and left me with a Breaking Bad box set to hammer my way through when suddenly she knocked on the door. It frightened the crap out of me so I paused the telly and sat quietly until I thought they'd left. But then she came to the window and looked in through the curtain. I told her we didn't want to subscribe to any charity but if she popped her details through the post we would have a read and then she started climbing through the window."
"She did what?"
"Yeah. Climbed through the window. I was about to call the police and tell them that a clepto was breaking in but then I kind of recognised her."
"Huh," said Ben. "She really is an old lady with super powers."
"Right? She climbed through as though she was getting out of bed, no effort at all."
"So what then? She tidy up and make tea or something? Maybe give you her Belgian bun?"
"What kind of euphemism is that? Nah, she sat down and watched Breaking Bad with me. Turns out she's well into it, loves herself a bit of Jesse Pinkman apparently." They both laughed, Ben unable to imagine anyone over the age of thirty finding Jesse Pinkman desirable.
"She's just...cool, you know? She comes over whenever you go out, keeps me company. Helps me to the crapper and all. She's strong for one so old."
"Shut up Yoda. But why didn't you just tell me? What was I going to do, break up your little party cos I was jealous?"
"To be honest Ben you kinda like to be in charge. I think you get off on doing everything around here and looking after me. Not that I've got a choice but I kind of feel indebted to you. And she...she was just a different face I suppose. You've given up everything to look after me and I don't know how many days I've got left on this earth but I don't want to spend them worrying that you are wasting your life by being here with me. She helped me escape that guilt for a while. Plus she's really funny."
"I like doing stuff for you. It's you and me, I don't want to be anywhere else."
"What about having a relationship and kids? What about going on holiday, going out for a meal, the cinema? You're giving up all that stuff for me and I don't want you to."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that it doesn't have to be this way. I knew she would run into you today. In fact she even set up that whole thing with Matthew Goodyear in the shop so she would have a reason to talk to you."
"You mean...?"
"He's not really attempted robbery 9 times, he's actually got a paper round at Dougs and sings in the church choir every Sunday. Nice kid."
"But Mr Singh...he was scared and shaken!"
"Turns out he used to be quite a thespian when he was back in school."
"Why not just invite her round for me to meet her? Why all the drama?"
"She doesn't do anything by halves, Mrs Monroe doesn't. Wanted to take the measure of you apparently. Anyway don't freak out but she's coming round in 30 minutes."
"What?" cried Ben, shooting up from the bed suddenly.
"Yeah. And she's bringing our mum."
Ben's shoulders tensed. "Have you seen her? Since she walked out on us? Has she been here?"
Giles just nodded. Ben looked at him for a minute then sprang into action. First he went to the bathroom and ran the shower. Second he went back to his bedroom, picked up his brother gently and carried him in. He proceeded to wash him, dry him, change him and place him on the sofa, all without saying a word. Then he went to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of whiskey and went to sit on the chair next to Giles, still in his underwear, still wreaking from the urine, still fuming from the revelations.
"What do you think they'd enjoy?" he barked. "Jeremy Kyle?" He turned the TV on and they watched a woman shouting at her husband for a full twenty minutes. Then the door bell rang.
No comments:
Post a Comment