wouldn’t have to struggle to find the words.
‘Give me a shout then, when you’re ready.’
All Cooper needed were his clothes, his computer and stereo, a few books, CDs and pictures. He felt like a student setting oil for his first term at university, his anxious parents insisting on ferrying him to his halls of residence to settle him in. There were some things he could leave behind at Bridge End Farm. So it would still, in a way, be his home.
The first picture he took down was the one that hung on the wall opposite the foot of his bed. He realized he hadn’t looked at the picture for a while. But then, he didn’t need to — he knew every detail of it. He was familiar with every face on each of the rows, even with the patterns and texture of the wall behind them and the concrete yard beneath their boots. Without looking, he could have described the way each one held his arms, which of them was smiling, who looked suspicious of the photographer, and who hadn’t fastened his tie properly that
224
morning. He knew exactly the feel of the mahogany frame in his hands, the smoothness of the edges, the slight ridge in the wood near one corner that his Hnger always found, like a necessary flaw. He remembered the slight scratch in the glass that was almost hidden by the shadow of the chair one of the officers sat in on the front row. If you turned the picture towards the light, the scratch became obvious. He couldn’t remember how it had happened. Somehow, it had always been there.
He put the photograph in the box first, wrapping it up carefully in tissue paper, then several layers of newspaper. Several less important prints went in after it. Perhaps the photograph would have been better protected if it had been on top. But it felt right for it to be at the bottom, deep in the accumulated objects of his life. It would have to take pride of place in the sitting room of his new Hat, though. It would give a sort of tacit approval to the place. Cooper already had in mind the exact spot where it would go.
Soon after he and Matt arrived at Welbeck Street, the flat became a whirlwind of activity. His sister-in-law Kate drove down with the girls to have a look, and the three of them insisted on hunting for cleaning equipment and wiping down all the surfaces in the kitchen and bathroom until they shone. Matt stood in the conservatory and looked at the tiny overgrown garden and the backs of the houses that overlooked it. Then he walked through to the sitting room and looked out of the front window at the street. A row of cars stood directly in front of the houses opposite, and melting snow dripped slowly from the roofs.
‘Rather you than me, Ben,’ he said, after a while.
Cooper knew what his brother meant. Although Welbeck Street was only a few miles from Bridge End, there was a world of difference. But he believed he could adapt to it. It was Matt who would have the most trouble adjusting to a different life, if it ever came to selling the farm.
He had discovered that his new landlady had a Jack Russell terrier called Jasper. He could hear it now, yapping in the backyard next door.
22S
A little later, Mrs Shelley herself came in from next door to see how he was getting on. Lawrence Daley was with her, and hewas wearing his how tie. He went round and shook hands with
O
everybody, including Josie and Amy, which made them giggle hysterically tor more than hall an hour atterwards. Mrs Shelley watched Kate cleaning the kitchen, nodding approvingly.
Then Cooper’s sister Claire appeared briefly. She always complained of being too busv for anything. But she had managed to spare him a tew minutes, to help him settle in, she said. She brought him a card and a bottle of white wine, then vanished again in a perfumed bree/,e, off back to her craft shop in Bold Lane. In the conservatory, the girls were cooing over the cat, who was enjoying the attention immensely. His purrs were vibrating the windows.
Cooper sat on a suitcase and watched the activity. He lelt very strange. Lie was surrounded by his lamilv, the people he had known for many years, some of them all his life. He had lived in the same house as Matt for twenty- nine years. But because they were all in an unfamiliar place, he felt as though he were an alien among them. In half an hour they would be gone; the tide would go out again and they would ebb away, leaving him high and dry, stranded like a bit of seaweed tossed on to the rocks to drv out in the sun. When they all went home, he would stay here on his own in this little house, where he didn’t even know how to find the electricity meter.
Even Uncle John and Aunt Margaret had stood in the doorway and made remarks about the convenient location until they felt able to make an excuse and leave. They had all come out of curiosity, out of bafflement that a member of the family was cutting hirnsell oil in this wa. Lor that’s what he was doing, in their eyes. Coopers did not live on their own. The family was there to provide support why should he want to cast it aside? He sensed that Claire and his aunt and uncle had suspected there was a woman involved, someone he was living with on the quiet, but they had seen no signs of one. He was sure there would be later surprise visits to check.
Mrs Shelley had discovered that Matt was a farmer, and had
226
decider! he was the anti-christ. Rut she didn’t say anything until he was gone, and then she confided her views in Cooper.
‘I can’t abide people who ill-treat animals,’ said Mrs Shelley. ‘What respect have they got lor people if they treat animals like that? It makes me sick.’
‘Yes, you’re right, Mrs Shelley.’
‘Don’t let Miranda out at the front, will you? The cars arc too dangerous. They go hatting down this road like idiots. They have their music turned up full blast and their windows open. Music! It’s a wonder their brains don’t (all out.’
‘Yes, you’re right.’
‘I see your brother has two children, though,’ said Mrs Shelley. ‘That’s nice.’
‘Matt says they’re getting to be a difficult age.’
‘Oh, I know. Rut they’re beautiful when they’re babies, aren’t they? All that time I spent telling Lawrence he ought to become a father …’
‘Auntie, I think Ren might prefer to be left to settle in now,’ said Lawrence.
Mrs Shelley gave a little giggle. ‘LawTcncc says I talk too much. You n’i/7 look after Miranda, won’t you? Only I can’t have her in my own house, you see.’
‘Rccause of the dog, I suppose.’
Mrs Shelley glared at him. ‘What’s wrong with my dog?’
