Nate had made a sumptuous breakfast for him and his dad and then he’d taken Branston out for a long walk mid morning, leaving Trevor at home to rest. Or so he thought.
He turned at the sound of a vehicle, a ruby-red three-wheeler shunting onto the driveway, almost touch parking behind his grey Ford Ranger that doubled as a work truck as well as everyday transport. This would be Jeremy; there weren’t many red three-wheelers in these parts, or any parts, for that matter.
‘Dad?’ He watched his dad push the passenger side door wide open.
‘Son, I’m sorry.’ His dad waved a hand over at him before unfolding himself from the confines of the tiny car. He gave Branston a pat as the dog bounded over to him. And after a brief greeting from Jeremy to Nate, the driver of the three-wheeler reversed off the driveway with a delightful toot-toot of the horn.
Both men waved Jeremy off as Nate asked, ‘Where did you get to?’
They let themselves in the front door. ‘I got restless and thought I’d have a walk after all. I bumped into Trevor and we had coffee at the Bookshop Café. He offered to bring me home.’
‘Nice of him.’ Although he wasn’t sure about the safety of the mode of transport. The car looked as though it wouldn’t take much to blow it off course or topple over.
Branston was wagging his tail and nuzzling Trevor as though reminding him that they only had a limited time together. The dog was doing his best to trip one of them over in his excitement.
Nate got another wave of nostalgia once they stepped inside the house. He wasn’t sure whether it was the smell of laundry drying on an airer in the dining room, or perhaps a lingering smell from cooking that reminded him of being called in for his tea when he was little. People said all houses had a smell and he didn’t necessarily believe it, at least not until he visited his dad. And this visit had taken too long to come; he’d left it almost three months and the last one as well as the one before that had been quick stops in Little Woodville, less than forty-eight hours each. His own life had got in the way, but he’d finally pulled his head out of his arse enough to come and see what was what.
‘Did you eat at the Bookshop Café?’ Nate asked his dad.
‘I didn’t. Trevor is off to the pub now and eating there so he wasn’t interested and to be honest, I’m not even hungry yet. I think I’m still full from the dinner last night and the breakfast you made us. An old man like me can only fit so much in, you know.’
His dad had form when it came to not eating properly. After Nate’s mum died, Trevor hadn’t been the best at looking after himself. Nate had helped out while he lived here but he knew Trevor had slipped into bad habits for a while when he left. When they talked, his dad insisted those habits were history, but Nate sometimes needed to see these things with his own eyes.
Nate had a sudden thought about the driver of the three-wheeler who had almost touch-parked his car with Nate’s and then driven off the drive at a speed that probably needed reassessing along a country road. ‘I assume Jeremy won’t be drinking at the pub.’
‘Who’s the parent here?’ Trevor couldn’t leave Branston alone. He was running his hand along the spaniel’s rich brown coat over and over again. ‘There’s no need to make a fuss. He might have a half pint but that’ll be it. I know Jeremy. And remember it’s important at our age to keep up a social life.’
‘Are you sure he should drive even after a half? I mean, is it even legal?’
‘The beer or the car?’ His dad always looked younger when he smiled like he was doing now as he took out two mugs from the cupboard and a couple of tea bags from the caddy. ‘He’ll have plenty of food to soak it up too. He’s not a tall man and not particularly big built; I think he must have hollow legs, the amount he can eat.’ He flicked the kettle on to boil. ‘And as for the car, well, it’s legal, roadworthy, but a few of us in the village are trying to make him aware that he’s not the driver he once was. But that sort of thing needs to be dealt with delicately. Any loss of independence is a blow, son.’
This was exactly why Nate had come and wanted to do so more frequently. His dad was getting older, no denying it, and for now he might be fine living alone, but he wouldn’t be able to forever. When Nate’s mum had been alive, they’d had each other. One of them on their own was a whole different story. Sure, there was a village high street and other residents, but Trevor’s house was tucked away, surrounded by trees, nobody to hear him if he yelled for help. Part of Nate coming here was to really see for himself how his dad was doing. So far, Trevor seemed content, he definitely ate well if the tales of the dinner last night up at Snowdrop Cottage were anything to go by, and he had a social life to rival Nate’s own what with trips to cafés and the pub.
‘I’m sure it is. Just stay safe, Dad.’
‘I will, don’t you worry. And he’s good company is Jeremy. Likes a bit of a chinwag and I need that.’
Nate was well aware he could’ve come more often or called more times than he did. He’d let his own life get in the way, which was all too easy to do when you had your own business. There was no shirking responsibility and he’d never liked saying no to anyone who wanted to book his services. He supposed it was a good situation to be in: too much work rather than too little.
When Branston settled by the back door longingly as though he hadn’t had enough fresh air, Nate asked whether it was all right to let him outside.
‘Son, make yourselves at home for the weekend. I love having the both of you here.’
‘Cheers, Dad. I’ll leave the door open.’ Before the garden continued around to the front of the property, there was a hedge, so there was no danger of the dog sneaking through the trees and wandering into the road.
While Branston was outside, Nate got the milk from the fridge. Funny how you could be away from a place for ages and when you were here, it was as though you’d only been away for a matter of days. ‘I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to visit again.’
‘You’ve got your own life, I understand. When your mother and I were your age, we had you to keep us busy, we did a lot of walking, we travelled. It was as though we couldn’t sit still half the time. I don’t think we spent much time with my parents or at the in-laws.’
Nate liked hearing about his parents’ lives when they were first married and when he was little. He couldn’t recall much of it himself, being taken to Europe when he was too young to remember, and then when he was old enough to have some memories, only snippets came to him.
‘Well, I should’ve got here more often.’
‘You’re here now. And I’m glad.’
It wasn’t only a case of being too busy either. It was also that Nate had been a bit of a mess. The job in Wales had been a gift at the right time, exactly what he’d needed. He’d left the village after his mum died to find something new, to pull himself together, and it had worked. He hit the ground running with his work and then went into business on his own but when it came to his personal life, he was screwed.
Nate had dated Carys for almost nine months – wild party animal Carys who was out for a lot of fun, which she got, and promptly took a job on a cruise ship, leaving him behind. Which he wasn’t all that sorry about. Next had come Susan. Susan was sensible, worked hard studying medicine, and they saw one another when they could fit each other in. He was happy but he wasn’t as on his toes as he’d thought; he’d rocked right back on his heels because after working hard in his plumbing business to pay his own mortgage off, he’d found himself paying off the hefty sum Susan had borrowed from a loan shark. He hadn’t had the conscience to walk away and leave her to it, leave her with a debt that could’ve endangered her. The thanks he’d got for helping her out was her dumping him for a junior doctor because apparently they were ‘on the same wavelength.’
