The Other Son (28 page)

Once Matt has vanished indoors in order to change for work, Alice walks down to the car and retrieves her e-reader from her suitcase. She sets herself up beneath the widest of the plum trees and switches the device on. But though her eyes keep scanning the on-screen page, her mind refuses to take in the meaning of the words today, so she gives up and stares out at the garden. She watches three butterflies flirting or perhaps fighting amongst some wildflowers. She sees a bird soar overhead. She listens to the cicadas.
What a strange day,
she thinks again.

Almost as soon as Matt has driven off, Bruno reappears with the dog. “Hi Alice,” he says as if they haven’t seen each other for a while. “Did Matt get off all-right?”

“I think so,” Alice says. “Everything OK?”

Bruno nods nonchalantly. “Just a tiff,” he says. “You know how it is.”

“I
think
I do,” Alice says hesitantly.

“I...” Bruno begins. He hesitates, then ties the dog to a branch in the shade before pulling a chair over beside Alice. “An e-reader, huh?” he comments, nodding at Alice’s Kindle. “That’s modern.”

“Tim bought it for me a couple of Christmases ago. It’s easier on my old eyes,” Alice replies. “I can make the characters as big as I like. I have to hold paperbacks so far away these days... I’ll be needing longer arms soon.”

“Right,” Bruno says.

He looks a little sad, so Alice asks again, “Are you sure everything’s OK?”

Bruno nods vaguely. “I just regret letting Matt go,” he says. “Without making up, I mean.”

“You argued, then?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I hope it wasn’t about me.”

“Not really.”

“Oh,” Alice laughs. “That sounds ominous.”

“I was just angry that Matt hadn’t told you,” Bruno explains. “About me, I mean.”

So I was right,
Alice thinks. And even though she had prepared herself for this, her heart flutters a little. “You’re... together, then?” she asks.

“You worked it out. Matt said you would.”

Alice smiles knowingly. “I counted the bedrooms.”

“Huh. Well, he should have told you.”

“Maybe.”

“Definitely.”

“You know, it’s not
all
his fault. We’re not a very chatty family.”

“No. That’s what Matt said.”

“Your parents know, presumably?” Alice says, thinking that it’s a rather good, relaxed thing to say. “I mean, if this is their place and everything.”

“Oh yeah. They’ve always known.”

“Always?”

“Pretty much. Mom’s best friend was a gay guy, so I never even imagined there might be a problem, you know?”

“It’s a generational thing, I think. I mean, I’m not sure I’ve ever known a... a gay person... not in real life.”

“In real life?” Bruno asks, grinning. He seems to think this a rather ridiculous thing to say.

“On the telly,” Alice explains. “And in books. Actually, maybe my hairdresser...” Bruno laughs again, so Alice says, “That’s a horrible cliché, I suppose.”

“Most clichés are horrible. And most of them are based on reality, too.”

“Yes,” Alice says. “I suppose they are. How old are you Bruno? Do you mind me asking that?” She’s thinking that he seems exceptionally mature compared with his youthful looks.

“Twenty-nine,” Bruno says. “Why?”

“No reason.”

“And you?”

Alice smiles. “Me? I’m sixty-nine,” she says. “But people don’t generally ask women of my age that kind of question.”

“OK,” Bruno says, thoughtfully. “And how do you feel about it? I mean, are you OK about Matt and me?”

Alice tries to locate her feelings about Matt being gay, about Matt living with Bruno, but she finds them absent, or at the very least too confused to be quickly identified. She fears that her “feeling” circuits have been overused recently leaving her a little slow on the uptake, a little numb, a little dumb, even. “I think so,” she finally replies. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Thanks,” Bruno says, brightly. “I knew you’d be cool.”

Alice laughs. She’s not sure anyone has ever called her cool. “Matt said you’d show me wherever it is that I’m staying?” she says. She feels the need for something concrete to do, something practical rather than all this searching for missing feelings.

“Yep,” Bruno says. “We’ll have to walk it though. Unless you want to go on the bike?”

“The bike?”

“The old Suzuki down by the road. That’s mine,” Bruno says. “I could take you on that. If it will start. The battery might be flat, though. I haven’t moved it for weeks.”

Alice shakes her head. “Um, I don’t think so,” she says. “Not today, anyway,” she adds. She doesn’t want to
completely
cancel out her cool-ness. “Is it far?”

“Half a mile maybe. So no, not really.”

“I think a walk might be nice,” Alice says.

“A glass of water before we go?”

“No thanks,” Alice says. “I’ve never much liked water.”

Bruno laughs again.

“Is that funny?”

Bruno grins at her. “Well yes,” he says. “You’d be dead without
water
. We’d all be dead without water.”

Once Bruno has drunk two full glasses of the life-saving stuff, he locks the cabin doors and he and Alice start to make their way down the track towards the main road. “This must get muddy when it rains, doesn’t it?” Alice asks.

“Yes,” Bruno says. “It does.”

“So why did you decide to live here of all places?” Alice asks. “Oh, it’s your parents’ place. That’s what you said, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. It’s their summer house,” Bruno says. “But that’s not
why
we live here. We live here because we like it.”

Alice nods. “It’s pretty, I suppose,” she says. “As long as you don’t mind being so far away.”

“Far away from?”

“I’m sorry?”

“As long as we don’t mind being so far away from what?” Bruno asks.

“I don’t know,” Alice says. “From everything really.”

“I
love
it here,” Bruno tells her. “Matt does too.”

“Yes, that surprises me really,” Alice says. “He always seemed such a city boy.”

As they round the second corner the intense noise of the cicadas suddenly stops. Once they continue along the track it stutteringly starts up again behind them.

“Noisy buggers, aren’t they?” Alice says lightly.

“The sound of summer,” Bruno replies.

By the time they have reached the main-road, the silence has begun to feel uncomfortable, so Alice takes a deep breath and asks, “Did you say you met Matt in Thailand?”

“Yeah,” Bruno says. “I was trying to block the bottom of the door with toilet paper to stop the roaches coming in.”

“It sounds horrible.”

“It was, but kind of fun, too,” Bruno says. “Anyway, Matt had insecticide. He gave me a squirt of it and stole my heart.”

“Very romantic.”

“Well quite. And I kind of just liked him there and then, you know? He’s very likeable.”

Alice nods and thinks about this for a moment as they continue to walk side by side. “But how did you know?” she asks. “I mean... how could you tell?”

“That he was gay?”

“Yes,” Alice says. “I couldn’t.”

“Really?”

She shrugs. “No, I don’t think so. I wasn’t as surprised as I might have been. But...”

“It’s called gaydar,” Bruno says. “If you’re gay you can just tell.”

“Always?”

“Nah,” Bruno says. “No. I get it wrong all the time. But often.”

“Maybe I did know,” Alice says. “Deep down.”

“Anyway, we got together against the roaches and decided to travel on to Indonesia together. And we’ve been together ever since.”

“Well, I’m glad you... you know... get on.” She winces. Her choice of words sounded wrong there, but then again, even she’s not sure quite what she meant to say.

“We
do
get on. Matt’s very cool. You should be proud.”

“Huh! I don’t think I had much to do with that.”

“Well, someone did,” Bruno says. “And by the sounds of it, it wasn’t his dad.”

“I really don’t think it was me, either,” Alice says. But she feels a flush of pride all the same. Because, yes, for all of her failings as a parent, here Matt is, alive, apparently healthy, and apparently happy. And partnered with rather lovely, relaxed, honest Bruno.

She’s proud of herself also, she realises, for her ability to conduct this conversation. Chatting to her son’s partner does feel, after all, rather modern. She can think of plenty of parents her age who would struggle with that.

Perhaps it’s because Bruno is, essentially, a stranger to her. She has often noticed how much easier it is for her to talk about things – particularly intimate things – with someone she has never met before. Which is strange, really, when you think about it.

“So is it true that Matt’s Dad hit you?” Bruno asks unexpectedly.

Alice is so blind-sided by the question that she momentarily stops breathing as she glances sideways at him. But from his expression – neutral, open, interested – it really would appear that he thinks this is just a reasonable thing to ask.

“I’m not sure I want to talk about that right now,” Alice says. “Sorry.”

“Wow,” Bruno says. “He did then.”

“Yes,” Alice replies coldly. “Yes, he did.”

As they cross a small road bridge, Bruno pauses and points down at the brook below. “Look,” he says.

“What?” Alice asks, leaning over the railings beside him.

“The river.”

“Yes?” Alice asks, looking up and down the length of the river as she attempts to spot whatever Bruno has seen.

“It’s
pretty
,” Bruno says in a funny pedantic voice. “So look at it.”

“Oh!” Alice laughs. “OK. Yes. Lovely. God, it’s hot though, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

They start to walk again. “I hope it doesn’t get much hotter than this, does it?” Alice asks.

“It most definitely does.”

“I love the sunshine,” she confides. “But I’ve never been that good with the heat.”

“That must be a challenging combination,” Bruno says. Alice frowns, so he expounds, “What with the sun being the source of all the heat on the planet and everything.”

“It’s not that challenging in England,” Alice says, sarcastically.

“No, I guess not,” Bruno laughs. He points to a hamlet of houses in the distance. “That’s where you are. That’s the village.”

“Thank God for that,” Alice says. “I think I need that drink of water after all. But my, it’s tiny. Is that it?”

“Yep,” Bruno says. “That’s it.”

The hamlet comprises fewer than a dozen thin stone houses, squashed one against the other on the roadside. “Virginie’s is that one,” Bruno says, pointing at the second house. “The one with the cats.”

A small staircase leads up from the narrow road to a tiny garden with a tatty vine-covered pergola leading to the front door. On every other step is a flowering pot plant, and five of the steps are occupied by mangy country cats.

“Are they friendly?” Alice asks, as Bruno leads her past them. “I’ve never been that fond of cats.”

“No,” Bruno says. “You said. And yes, they’re lovely.”

“And where is Virginie?” Alice asks once they have reached the trellis. “I never thought to ask.”

“Her mother’s ill,” Bruno says. “She’s in Marseille looking after her.”

“Nothing too serious, I hope?”

“Very serious, I’m afraid,” Bruno says. “She’s dying.”

“Oh, how sad.”

“Yes,” Bruno says. “She’s lovely too. Ah, there’s your case.”

Alice looks over to see it sitting behind a small marble garden table. She tuts. “That Matt!” she says plaintively. “I can’t believe he just left it outside.”

“Um, not
too
much crime around here,” Bruno replies.

“All the same,” Alice says, grabbing the handle of the case and yanking it towards the front door.

Bruno unlocks the front door and leads Alice into a small kitchen cum dining-room. The furniture is old, but has been repainted in Provençal yellows and greens. With the vine-covered entrance, it’s like a postcard of Provence.

Alice looks around at all of Virginie’s things, and the reality of staying in someone else’s home suddenly hits her. Surprisingly, she hadn’t thought much about it. “Gosh all her stuff’s still here,” she says, looking at a bottle of deodorant on the sideboard.

“Well yes. This wasn’t exactly planned.”

“Are you sure she doesn’t mind?” Alice asks. “I’d feel very funny about someone living in
my
place.”

“She said not,” Bruno says. “I didn’t even have to ask. I just told her you were coming and she offered.”

Two of the cats have followed them into the kitchen, and the brown, shabby tabby has leapt onto the kitchen counter. Alice raises her hands to scare him away. “Go on, you,” she says. “Outside. Shoo!” The cat looks at her nonchalantly and then rubs his chin against the fruit bowl and meows.

“Shoo?” Bruno laughs. “This is where they live.”

“Yes, but not on the kitchen counter,” Alice says. “I bet even Virginie doesn’t allow that.”

Bruno doesn’t reply. He just grins at Alice disarmingly. “Come upstairs,” he says. “Come see the other rooms.”

Alice follows him up a narrow, whitewashed stone staircase. It reminds her of those photos you see of Greek villages and amusingly, on the landing, is a photo of a Greek church. Virginie must have had the same thought.

The lounge, exactly the same size as the kitchen, contains a sofa and an armchair. These have been covered with red and orange throws which look like they might have come from India. The red hexagonal tiles of the floor are covered with small rugs, and the walls with heavily laden bookcases.

“Cosy huh?” Bruno says.

“Yes,” Alice replies. “But look at all that cat hair! I hope she’s got a Hoover. And I’ll give those bookcases a dust for her, too. It looks like they could do with it.”

“She has great taste, huh?” Bruno says. “Come on. Only one more floor to go.”

On the third floor is the final room, a very feminine bedroom. An iron four-poster takes up most of the room. It has been draped, prettily, with mosquito netting.