Turning Forty (26 page)

‘Is there any need to exaggerate?’ asks Dad. ‘It’s just one box and they’ve cleared virtually everything from upstairs, so I can’t imagine it’s going to take them more than an hour to clear the back room of boxes once the sofas are out. I know it’s in one of the boxes in the living room, I just want to know which one.’

‘Have you tried the one marked ‘‘books’’!’ exclaims Mum. ‘Or is that too much for you?’

Dad departs muttering under his breath, leaving me to ask Mum what it is she’s doing.

‘I’m washing down the cupboards,’ she explains. ‘You should have seen the state of some of them. I really ought to have done a spring clean much earlier than this.’

‘But what’s the point, Mum? You know the developers are going to rip them all out. You told me yourself they’re going to refurbish the whole place.’

‘I can’t have them thinking that I don’t care about dirty cupboards!’ she says, scandalised. ‘I’ve always done things properly and I’m not about to change now.’

There is no point in attempting to counter my mother’s argument because she does not allow things like logic to penetrate her world and so instead I take myself back outside to finish the shed and think about how in just a few hours I’ll officially be living with a woman other than my wife.

Having had the past few weeks to get my head round the idea of Rosa and me living together I have to say that I’ve started to warm to it. So far as both a flatmate and a partner she’s been pretty easy-going and I can’t see any reason to see why things shouldn’t continue this way once the move happens. The only problem that I can envision is what Lauren might have to say if or when she finds out but for the moment at least I have decided to simply shove my head in the sand and carry on as normal.

It’s ten thirty on the dot when the foreman of the removal company pops his head round the door in the kitchen. I’m boxing the last of the cleaning equipment to put in Yvonne’s car so that when she takes them over to the bungalow Mum and Dad can immediately commence Operation Clean-up Part 2. The removal guy informs me that everything is in the back of the removal van and that they’re ready to go when we are and so I give him the nod and tell him that I’ll let my parents know.

As I walk through the empty rooms I feel like the bearer of momentous news. The beginning of the end is about to commence, great change is afoot. Nothing will ever be the same again.

I spot Dad in the garden with Yvonne and walk down to them.

‘I was just reminding your sister about the time she climbed on the roof of the shed and couldn’t get down again,’ chuckles Dad as I reach them. ‘She bawled her eyes out. I thought the tears would never stop.’

Yvonne rolls her eyes in exasperation. ‘Only because Tony and Ed kept telling me that the roof was rotten and that I’d fall through it and break my neck. That pair could be really evil.’

‘You could be just as mean though,’ I add, pointing to the Bramley apple tree we used to climb as kids. ‘Do you remember when Ed climbed up to the top of this using Dad’s old ladder and while he was up there you took the ladder away and left him stranded?’

‘Do I ever?’ laughs Yvonne. ‘Once Mum rescued him she chased me round the house with a slipper yelling, “You’d better run because if I catch you you’ll be seeing stars!” ’ Yvonne pats the rough bark of the ancient tree.

Yvonne and Dad head back into the house and while they load up the car I go upstairs to my parents’ bedroom where Mum is busy hoovering the grey swirly carpet that is over twenty years past its prime and which will certainly be dumped the second the developer walks through the door.

‘So that’s it then, Mum,’ I say, as she turns off the vacuum. ‘The removal guys are all done and Dad and Yvonne are waiting for you in the car.’

‘But there is still so much to do.’

It’s apparent that her desire to clean has less to do with wanting to impress the developer and more with wanting to keep her mind occupied. ‘Not any more there isn’t.’

She unplugs the hoover and I can see she has tears in her eyes.

‘I know it’s tough, Mum,’ I say, putting my arm round her, ‘but you’re doing the right thing. Just think, you’ll be able to see Yvonne and the grandkids whenever you want, take long walks in the countryside with Dad and get plenty of exercise, make tons of friends and maybe start a few new hobbies. You’ll be living the dream.’

‘I know,’ she says, wiping her eyes, ‘but I won’t have this place any more, will I? Not the bedrooms where you kids slept, or the living room where we spent so many Christmases or the kitchen where I’ve made so many dinners.’

‘But you’ll still have the memories, won’t you?’ I reassure her. ‘Leaving somewhere doesn’t change that.’

We go downstairs and head outside. I load the vacuum cleaner into the back of the car while Mum climbs in.

‘Are you sure you’re going to be all right, Matthew?’ asks Mum as I poke my head through the open window to give her a kiss. ‘You know you don’t have to stay with this friend of yours, it’s not too late for you to come with us.’

‘I’m good thanks. All my stuff’s in the front room ready for when Rosa arrives to pick me up. I’ll be fine.’

‘And you won’t forget to drop off the keys at the solicitor’s?’

‘No Mum.’

‘Or to shut the front door properly and lock the back gate?’

‘I’ll do everything on the list.’ I pull out the sheet of A4 she had handed me first thing this morning. ‘Now, are you sure you don’t want me to come and help at the other end?’

She shakes her head. ‘I’ve told you a million times the removal men will do all the unpacking. You need to sort out yourself.’

‘Fine,’ I reply, ‘you have a good journey and I’ll call you tonight and see how you’re settling in.’

Yvonne starts up the car and as they pull away I return their waves before disappearing back into the house to attend to Mum’s list.

Closing the windows takes the longest as some of them have long since stopped working properly and having been opened for the express purpose of giving the house a ‘good airing’ now refuse to close. While I’m struggling with the most troublesome of these the doorbell rings and when I peer out of the window I see Rosa looking up at me.

‘Are you going to let me in?’

She’s wearing jeans and a black jacket and her hair is tied back in a loose ponytail. She looks beautiful and I tell her so.

‘Why thank you,’ she says, planting a kiss on my lips. ‘So how’s it been?’

‘Tougher than I thought. Mum got a bit upset just before she left.’

‘I’m not surprised. It must have been a real wrench for them and for you.’

I give her a guided tour of my empty family home, covering the front room that was only ever used for best, the back room where we watched TV, the kitchen where I calculate with the aid of my phone that Mum probably made the best part of forty thousand meals, my parents’ bedroom where I used to sleep if I got scared in the night, my sister’s bedroom that she would never let me or my brothers into because she said we made it smell, the bedroom I shared with my brothers and finally the garden where I and my siblings spent thousands of hours during the long summer holidays making our own entertainment and nearly killing ourselves in the process.

‘I wish I could have seen it before all the life was taken out of it,’ says Rosa. ‘You make it sound like it was the best place in the world.’

‘It was.’ I search in my coat for the front-door keys. ‘It was the absolute best.’

There’s no reason to stay and so I get Rosa to open her car and I start loading my stuff into the back. It doesn’t take long although I’m surprised how much stuff there is: all my old vinyl records from the loft, a cardboard box full of my school exercise books, carrier bags filled with comics and old music magazines and a framed picture of me, Ginny, Gershwin and the rest of the gang taken outside the school front gates on the last day of our A levels.

‘You look really young,’ says Rosa, taking the picture from my hands as I finish loading the rest of the stuff into the car. ‘Very young and very handsome. Who are these guys with you?’

‘Just some friends.’

‘Do you see any of them?’

‘Not in years,’ I reply, ‘that’s what happens when you get older. People move on.’

She stares hard at the picture and points to Ginny. ‘Why does she look familiar?’

‘Because you met her,’ I reply. ‘We bumped into her and this guy,’ I say, pointing out Gershwin, ‘a little while ago in Moseley.’

‘You were friends even then?’ she asks and I can see her replaying the moment she and Ginny came face to face.

‘Yeah.’

I brace myself for further questions but they don’t come. Relieved, I put the last box into the car and then ask Rosa to wait while I do one final lap around the house as per my mother’s instructions. Everything’s fine of course, all the windows are closed and doors locked, so there’s nothing left but to leave. As I shut the front door for the last time I have to choke back tears before getting into the car. I’m going to miss this place, the bricks and the mortar, the wood and the glass, but more than anything the life it once contained.

Days left until I turn forty: 29

36

‘No one really wants to do nothing on their birthday,’ says Rosa matter-of-factly as she opens the oven to take a closer look at the dish currently bubbling away inside. She pokes the cheesy cornbread topping of her chilli con carne with a sharp knife, pulls it out and examines it carefully before turning off the oven with something of a jubilatory flourish. ‘It’s just the kind of thing you say when you secretly want people like me to organise a big party and are just too proud or stubborn to come out with it.’

‘Is that so?’ I set down the glass of wine in my hand on the kitchen counter and begin laying the table.

She pulls a large bag of salad out of the fridge and calls for the salad bowl from the sideboard. ‘You know it is,’ she says, ‘so let’s just cut to the chase, shall we? Your birthday is in two weeks and there is no way I’m going to let it pass without some kind of celebration so the choice is this: you leave it up to me and just turn up on the right day at the right time and look surprised or you tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen. But that’s the only choice you’re getting, and just so you know, Mr Beckford: this “I’m not really all that into birthdays” shtick that you keep peddling my way is getting really old, so just put it away and be happy.’

I’m about to defend myself when the front-door buzzer goes. Relief makes me generous. ‘I’ll finish up here, you go and welcome our guests.’

Having braced myself for the worst, the past few weeks with Rosa in her tiny flat have been the happiest since coming back to Birmingham. I had predicted conflict at every turn and problems round every corner but instead there had been unexpected harmony and joy, to the extent that I almost wished I’d moved in sooner. When I’m with Rosa I forget about everything that might bring me down – my employment status, Lauren, my lack of direction and looming birthday – and all I can think about is: if I can keep this going for another forty years then I’ll die a happy man. Even so, I have been dreading tonight because while dating a twentysomething has turned out to be easier than I imagined, hanging out with her mates will undoubtedly be harder.

Rosa’s friends Josh, a housing officer at the university, and Victoria (Tory), an arts administrator, are nice enough people and even though it’s apparent in minutes that we’re never going to be the best of friends (Josh seems intimidated by me while Tory is one of those people who isn’t happy unless they’re sharing their opinion on
everything
) for Rosa’s sake I try to make the best of the evening, which means allowing Tory to dominate the post-dinner chat in the living room and not asking Josh too many questions when the women excuse themselves under the guise of making coffee to talk about us in the kitchen.

Just after midnight, when most guests my age would be calling a minicab, they get out the Sambuca and I find myself in the kitchen searching for a notepad and paper for some drinking game that Rosa and Josh are desperate to play when in walks Tory.

‘Rosa says forget the pad because she’s forgotten the rules of the game and anyhow she and Josh have plugged his phone into the music player so it’ll be just like uni: those two screeching away all night while everyone else looks on. Still, it will give me the chance to have a proper chat with you.’

I look around nervously. ‘Why would you want to talk to me?’

Tory laughs. ‘Calm down, dear, I’m not after your body. I just wanted a chat.’

‘About what?’

‘About my sweet, sweet, Rosa,’ she replies. ‘You know all she talks about these days is what an amazing guy you are.’

‘That’s nice to hear.’

‘I haven’t seen her this happy since she and Jonny split up.’

It’s the hint of smugness in Tory’s voice that alerts me to the fact that I’m being tested. She knows something I don’t and wants to be the one to tell me. Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have gone anywhere near so obvious a trap but it’s late, I’m tired and a little too drunk to even think about not taking the bait.

‘OK,’ I say. ‘I’ll bite: who’s Jonny?’

‘You don’t know?’