It came, inevitably. It came when we felt safest, on a calm, honey-warm early September night. The doorbell rang. As was our custom, Arthur was upstairs and I was in the kitchen, just starting to think about getting his dinner. Neither of us moved. The bell rang again and went on ringing. Then came a series of bangs on the door and a man’s voice. He sounded a bit drunk.
“Hey! Can you put a light on? Come on, Arthur, I need to talk!” He pressed on the bell again, and then we heard another voice.
“Tony, leave him alone, it doesn’t matter! Tony, leave him alone!” “I’m not leaving him alone, it’s for his own good! He got a fucking invitation! Hey, Arthur!” The voice dropped to a placatory, treacherous singsong. “Come on, mate, barbie time! You gonna come and enjoy yourself or what?”
“Tony! Stop it, please-”
“Tell you what, Arthur, I got a drink right here for you. Get you in the mood, mate. Come on, s’only us and a few friendly faces, what’s your problem?”
“Oh, Tony-have some consideration!”
“Wha’s the matter? Look, Mum, does he or doesn’t he need a firm hand? I’m only doing what you said!”
“I didn’t say bully him! Leave him alone!”
The ringing and banging subsided and eventually stopped. Then the bell sounded again, tentatively, and above it came the woman’s voice again.
“Arthur, it’s me, Rosemary. Mrs. M! It’s all right, Arthur, don’t worry. He doesn’t mean any harm. It’s only Tony. Arthur? Arthur!”
He was still upstairs. The voice became wheedling. I began to tremble.
“Arthur, would you open the door a minute, dear? I’m so sorry, he didn’t mean it. He wants to say sorry. Arthur, could you please come to the door?”
The man’s voice added, “Yeah, sorry, mate, didn’t mean no offence. OK?”
Arthur didn’t stir.
“Arthur, it’s Rosemary. I can’t go till I know you’re all right.”
The man called, “OK, so how about you put a light on, Arthur? Show us you’re okay, mate. OK?”
Only a few feet lay between us and the front door. Those people were just on the other side of it. If Arthur didn’t go down to them they could burst through it and be upon us in seconds, yelling and cajoling, pulling him around. Suddenly I saw that all my efforts to protect us had been pointless. In the end, doors and locks and walls stand for nothing and against nothing. They are only the weakest of defences against any purpose, including urgent and violent goodwill.
I stood with a tea towel in my hand, straining to hear above the shunk of the washing machine behind me and the hammering of my heart in my throat. Then I heard Arthur’s tread at the top of the stairs. Without thinking about it, I knew the best way to protect him. I ran out to the conservatory and through the sliding door into the dining room. The door from there out to the hall was closed; I opened it a fraction and pressed close against the wall. Through the gap I could see the outline of Arthur’s body, halted on the stairs. Shapes moved under the porch and shadows dappled the hall floor. The woman’s voice came at us again.
“Arthur, I have your spare key here, dear. I’m coming in, all right? Just to see you’re all right. It’s just me and Tony. Tony’s with me, we just want to see you’re all right.”
I heard Arthur whimper as the lock turned. Feet clumped across the threshold, lights flashed on. They were in the hall, just out of my sight line. Arthur had slumped down on the stairs.
“Arthur? Oh, Tony didn’t mean any harm. Did you, Tony? He just wondered why you didn’t answer our invitation.”
I pushed the tea towel against my mouth to stop myself from screaming. Arthur pulled himself up and came unsteadily downstairs.
“Here you go, mate. Lager OK for you?” I heard the snap and hiss of a can. “Oops! There you go then. Get that down you. Do you good.”
Arthur cleared his throat, giving up an attempt to protest. He had his back to me and I fancy I saw him retreat from them, inclining a little in my direction, to protect me, to explain to me perhaps that he was accepting the drink just to stall them there. He had to submit to their interest in him, not so far as to encourage them to think themselves welcome, but enough to get them to leave with both neighbourly impulses, prurience and conscience, satisfied.
“Thing is,” Tony said, “Mum’s just trying to help. She’s done this whole barbecue, see? And bugger me, there’s all of us in the garden over there just trying to be friendly and you don’t turn up. Not very polite, mate.”
“Barbecue?” Arthur’s voice sounded tight with confusion. “What do I want with a barbecue? I don’t know anything about any bloody barbecue!”
“I did tell you, Arthur,” the woman said. “We said it’d be good for you to see a few of the neighbours. You agreed. There were proper invitations, dear.”
“I’m busy. Sometimes things slip my mind.”
“But I wrote it all down. You said you’d come.”
A few days ago there had been a handwritten card with a drawing of a smoking hamburger and a glass of wine on it. I’d torn it up.
“Mum’s gone to a lot of trouble. It’s a lot of work, a barbecue. Hey, mate, you OK?”
Arthur had started to sway on his feet, probably because he’d just tipped his head back to swig some of his drink. I saw him grope for the banister and the can fell from his hand. Tony marched forward and grabbed him and Mrs. M let out a wail. “The carpet!”
“Whoa, there! OK, mate, let’s get you sat down,” Tony said.
“Leave me alone!” Arthur said, recoiling. “Don’t touch me! I just got light-headed for a second. Slight loss of balance. Comes and goes.”
“Need a decent meal, I’d say. You
Of course we had stain remover. She returned, sank down on the carpet between Tony and Arthur, and began dabbing with a sponge.
