“Good, yeah.”
“Cracking day for it.”
“Is it?”
“See for yourself,” Arthur said, spreading both arms but feeling hurt. Lawrence just shrugged. It had as good as happened overnight, this growing up, and it would likely be as quick in the reverse. Coming to the end of your life just as your child was beginning theirs. Somehow it just didn’t seem fair.
He took Lawrence to the Ogden. The indolent river had taken on a syrupy glaze thanks to the shards of summer sun. As the two of them picked their way through the wood, a tawny owl called, emitting its rich, billowing thread. Arthur stopped at the sound, put his fists together, thumb against thumb, and blew into the gap between them, mimicking the owl’s song. After a moment the bird duly called back. Lawrence smiled.
They sat together on a bed of rock, a chthonic door of industrial-looking grey.
“Why am I here, Dad?”
“I want you to tell me about this Swarsby lass.”
“And here’s me thinking you were going to ask us home.”
“That goes without saying,” Arthur said.
“How come?”
“Because you’re old enough to make up your own mind.”
“No, why do you want to know about Evie is what I mean…”
Lawrence began to construct a tower of pebbles. He built it up then knocked it down. Repeated the action. Meanwhile, Arthur bided his time. It was important to be careful around the lad. At least with his cheek healed and the mask gone, he could convey a truer honesty. A tender welt remained on his face and his eye was still foxed with purple, although Arthur didn’t mind the eye so much. Black eyes have a certain appeal. They aren’t called shiners for nothing.
“Because I’m guessing this disaster wi’ school happened thanks to her,” he said. “Least in part. An’ I need to know what’s going on wi’ you. I’m your dad.”
Build those stones. Knock them down. “What do you want to know?” Lawrence asked.
Arthur reached out and ruffled his son’s hair. He’d missed doing that. “You’re like your mam you’re so guarded,” he said. “Just tell us how the two of yous met.”
Gently does it.
“None of that were her fault,” Lawrence replied, after a while. “Evie’s amazing.”
“I’ll bet.”
“No, really. Her family came from London. You’ll have heard of the dad. I met her in the woods. Bend of circumstance, I suppose you’d call it.”
“But you’re being careful… You know what I mean…”
Lawrence blushed. “We’re just friends.”
“How come? She have a fella or summat?”
“Don’t think so.”
“She never mention no one? Someone from her past?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Old bloke, posh? Tell me who he is.”
Lawrence stood and said sharply “Why don’t you ask her yourself if you’re that bothered?”
Arthur thought fast. “Sit down. Reason I ask is I worry. Your dad does. ’Cause I know girls like her… No, wait, don’t look like that. Girls like this Evie. Not pretty girls, as such… I mean the compelling ones, the ones with summat beyond their looks—”
“She’s not—”
“Lawrence, you’re forgetting I’ve met her.” Arthur paused. Lawrence was finally listening. “And I know for a fact that ones like Evie are the ones you watch. Take your mam. Why else do you think I’m wi’ her?”
Lawrence fixed him with a pointed stare.
“Because of that,” Arthur countered. “Women like your mam have dimensions no matter which way you turn ’em. Diamonds. They’re the ones you’ll come back to when you’re an old duffer like me. I mean who wants to spend the rest of their puff running around with someone who’ll do anything you say?”
Arthur had the impression Lawrence was just going along with this conversation, still, he’d say his piece◦– experience was worth nothing if you didn’t make use of it.
“Evie’ll have a past,” he said. “It might give you an angle.”
“She doesn’t tell me nowt.”
“Nay, you just need to speak to her the right way.” Arthur threw one of the stones from Lawrence’s pile into the river. “Try that, and, if you want, when she opens up, tell us what she says… I’ll advise you.”
“She thinks I’m an idiot, Dad. Daft and ugly.”
“Oh, don’t do yourself down. It’s the eternal fortune of men that women aren’t that bothered about our looks.”
It was a joy to see the way Lawrence’s face crinkled. “Course they are.”
Arthur clapped him on the shoulder. “On the contrary, it’s your flaws they find appealing, kid. Which is part of the problem.” His smile faded. “As if you’re anything like the rest of us it’s your flaws you can’t get over and what will destroy you in the end.”
The stones were knocked over for good. The owl called again, that mercurial silver tone. Arthur had long since realised the trouble he would have been saved if his own father hadn’t been too embarrassed to discuss some of this stuff when he was a boy. “I’ll tell you summat, Lawrence. As I’ve lived,” he said. Out came the canteen. “It’ll come in handy, whatever you might think of me, I never lie to you.”
There was nothing Lawrence could say to that.
“If a girl’s not got her face on around you, it isn’t because she doesn’t care, it’s because she feels that comfortable around you that she can be herself. If a girl says she doesn’t mind when you do summat wi’out her, she’s lying. If a girl says she wants nowt from you, she’s testing to see what you’ll do.”
“But that’s—”
“Shut it. You’re never not being tested, an’ you’ll never know what the pass mark is either. Fail though and you’ll find out. None of this a lass will admit to. Least at first.”
Lawrence messed with his socks and swept the remaining pebbles into the Ogden. “They’re impossible,” he said.
“Aye.” Arthur laughed. “That’s what keeps us coming back.”
The following Monday, with Shell at work, Arthur dressed in black and chain-smoked in the kitchen, aiming the smoke at the open back door. The way he went through with questionable plans was to first convince himself of their pragmatism. He’d once stolen the Yorkstone from a vacant house around the corner from his mam’s and spent the money he made on a family trip to Bridlington. He’d lifted up the underlay, levered the slabs out with the crowbar and carted them away one by one in the wheelbarrow, cursing his pit-ravaged back and telling himself that if he didn’t do it, someone else would. Later, watching Lawrence paddle in the sea and Shell lick melted ice cream from her wrist, he’d felt so distant from the choice and terms that had forced it that it was as if some other idiot had stolen the stone and no way would he ever do a thing like it again. And as it had been then, so it would be now. Arthur went to the front window when he heard the car arrive: Asa’s Fiesta. There was no greeting for him as he got in. Asa just shifted gear and drove them away.
There are comfortable silences and friendships that can withstand silence. These are two different things. Then there was the quiet of that little red car. It was Sunday-dead, all the way to Threndle House. Asa and Arthur parked near to the property then hurried to its outer wall.
It was six o’clock, no sound save their shoes scuffing the brick, tights capping their heads and a cricket bat shared between them. Asa and Arthur slid down the wall like a pair of tom cats and landed in the barked flower beds of the mansion.
Dew flecked against their bare arms from the leaf tips. The two men crouched, hidden against the wall by a large, pink azalea. Surely no one had seen them. They were on their haunches, breathing. Arthur’s heart boomed. It was bright as anything today and he still had the lawn’s splendid fabric to navigate.