‘Yes, seems like it.’ I laugh and reach for his hand and squeeze it. And then we look at each other and he leans towards me and kisses me. It feels like it’s just a light peck on the lips, like the brush of a butterfly. But he doesn’t move away. Instead, his mouth stays on mine and he pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist.
I feel like I’m dissolving. As if I could split into millions of particles in this room full of books. It’s as if we’ve been waiting for this moment, when it’s just us, alone together – not pricing up books or tidying shelves or debating whetherThe Poacher’s Almanacshould go under memoirs or natural history. Instead, we’re standing here, kissing in the middle of Fergus’s shop as if we’ve waited so long for this chance and now we can’t stop. And somehow time spins by, until we pull apart and he smiles and looks the happiest I have ever seen him.
I glance at the clock on the wall behind the counter. ‘Fergus,’ I say, ‘it’s nearly eight!’
He looks at me in a bemused way and then turns to the clock and says, ‘Where did all that time go?’
‘No idea! What were wedoing?’
He laughs and kisses me lightly on the lips. ‘We’d better go, right?’
‘Yes! And we’re having all the courses, remember? That was the deal.’
‘Can’t wait,’ he says. Then we turn off all the lights and lock up the shop, and he takes my hand as we step out into the cool October night.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Vince
‘...So I hear you’re doing up the house?’ Lenny says.I wouldn’t bother with that because I’m going to murder you in it.
‘Yeah, that’s right.’ Vince is conscious of his face blazing.
‘Just wondered if this might be useful?’
He’s holding something, Vince notices now. A box containing some kind of device. ‘What is it?’ he croaks.
‘A wallpaper stripper. A steam one. If you have a minute I can show you how easy it is to use?’
And that’s all he came round for: to be helpful, like he was with the patio jet-washer. He demonstrates the thing, and Vince watches with intense concentration as if being shown how to administer a loved one’s life-saving injections. And soon, the floral wallpaper his mother chose in something like 1987 falls away. The pinky-and-grey floral pattern has always reminded him of childhood, of birthday parties and being allowed Viennetta ice cream as a treat. He’d expected to feel sad to see it go. However, he feels nothing apart from relief as he powers through the job alone, steaming the stuff off like a manic. Relief at finally making headway and Lenny not punching him in the face.
‘He doesn’t know!’ Vince informs Jarvis. ‘Everything’s going to be all right.’ Not only with Lenny but with the house upgrade too. Already, with the dreary florals gone, it’s so much lighter and brighter. Vince can’t wait for Kate to see it. Not that he expects her to want to stay here, but because she’ll see how much he’s achieved, and she’ll be proud of him and realise that she really does love him, despite him being a useless shit. He imagines her lovely face breaking into a huge, sunny smile: ‘Vince! You’ve done an amazing job!’
The plasterer comes next: a swaggery guy with a soft pink belly lolling over his low-slung jeans. He brings a radio and plays Smooth FM all day long, crooning along to Barry White as he skims over where the wallpaper once hung. Now everything is beautifully smooth. It’s like the bungalow has been Botoxed and Vince feels renewed and sprightly, ready with his paint roller.
He tears into the task, aided by Colin and his fantastic extension pole. ‘You just need the right tools for the job, Vince,’ he informs him.
Vince is aware of a sharp twang of guilt as he drops off four boxes of his parents’ bric-a-brac at a charity shop in town. But then, they’re just porcelain rabbits and horses and shepherdesses, and little knick-knacks his mum picked up on holidays in St Ives in the Seventies. What does he want with a macramé pot holder and a wicker-edged tray depicting a Cornish seascape? His beloved mum is gone. As if to reassure himself that she reallywon’tmarch into the house, demanding to know what he’s done with a lurid pink vase patterned with kittens, he stops off at the cemetery on the outskirts of Shugbury and visits his parents’ grave.
He goes there occasionally to tidy it up and have a little chat with his mum and dad. Kate doesn’t even know. ‘I’m selling the house,’ he murmurs, crouching down in front of the granite headstone. ‘I’m sorry. I hope you don’t mind.’ Realising his eyes are wet, he rubs them on his sleeve. ‘What’ll I do about the water feature, Dad? It’s kind of half finished. It doesn’t really look like anything apart from...’ A smile crosses his lips. ‘Anyway, I’ll always be grateful for the house, and I’ll always love it. But I’ve decided it’s time to move on.’
He leans over then and plants two quick kisses on the headstone. One for Iris, one for Walt. ‘Bye, Mum and Dad,’ Vince says, his voice cracking a little. Then he straightens himself up to his full height and strolls out of the cemetery, feeling lighter than he has in living memory, as if a weight has been lifted and suddenly everything feels sharper and brighter and he knowsexactlywhat he must do.
*
Obviously, late October isn’t the best time to put a house on the market. Sensible people wait until spring, when the garden is coming back to life. But Vince isn’t a sensible person and he can’t wait until spring.
Time is of the essence here if he’s going to win his wife back. So, on a bitterly cold morning he calls the estate agent in town. ‘Of course, yes,’ says the cheerful young woman. ‘We’ll come over on Monday at ten if that works for you? We can take measurements and arrange a time for our photographer to visit.’
‘Great,’ he enthuses. That gives Vince the weekend to do a final tidy-up. Easy, he tells himself. Everything will be ready by then. But first, there’s a slightly tricky job to tackle.
He knows Colin would help him, but Vince feels confident that he can do to the job himself. Lately, he’s proved to himself that he can be more practical than he’d ever imagined. When Colin came round to inspect his paint job he was clearly impressed: ‘Looks good, Vince! Did you prep the walls?’
‘Of course,’ he lied.
‘Great job. Well done!’
Vince had glowed with pride then. Now he’s picturing Colin’s look of amazement when he sees that the bathroom door is no longer propped up against a wall, but has been rehung. Plus, Vince will be able to go to the loo without Jarvis gazing at him! It’s the last step: the final piece of the elephant.
