31 Dream Street (38 page)

After the viewings he’d make his cake (he didn’t want to mess up the kitchen beforehand) and while it was in the oven he’d have a bath and a shave, then he’d put on some clean clothes and some new shoes, and go downstairs to await the arrival of his father.

His day was carefully constructed to leave no time at all for milling about, faffing around or thinking. He focused on the precise nature of the icing he’d make for his cake and the exact hue of the lilies he’d buy. His father’s arrival was something so vague and unthinkable that he couldn’t bring himself to contemplate it, until his father was actually standing right in front of him, on his door step. Until he really, really had to.

82

‘Does that include service?’ Reggie eyed the waiter through slanted eyes.

‘No, sir,’ said the waiter. ‘It doesn’t.’

Reggie sighed and pulled a handful of coins out of his pocket which he dropped onto the tray disdainfully. He didn’t bother counting them. He didn’t care. A few quid was enough.

He glanced at his watch. Three-thirty. He patted his belly and downed the last of his coffee. Disgusting coffee. You couldn’t get a decent cup in London. He looked out of the window at the street outside. It was raining. Of course it was raining. This was London. He’d had enough of London, only been here two weeks and he was fed up with the place already. Admittedly March wasn’t the best time of year to be here, but, still, he remembered now exactly why he’d left in the first place. Bad coffee, overpriced food, never-ending rain, and all these miserable, whey-faced people wandering about, grumpy and dissatisfied, as if all the troubles of the world were on their shoulders.

Talking of which, it occurred to him that he’d arranged to see his son this afternoon. Well, he hadn’t arranged it; Peter had arranged it. Reggie hated talking to
people on the phone. It was bad enough talking to people you knew well; the thought of phoning up his son was unbearable.

He pulled a piece of paper out of his wallet and looked at it.

31 Silversmith Road, London N2. Where the hell was London N2? And how was he going to get there? He sighed and put the paper back in his wallet. He thought of his big peculiar son, his strange haunted eyes, his mass of unkempt hair. Could that much have changed? Was it really worth trekking all the way out to some godforsaken part of North London to find out that they still had nothing in common, that he still didn’t like him very much?

But then, he’d like to see this house, the house he’d bought him all those years ago. And he’d like to see Karen and any children they may have had together. His grandchildren. He had no other plans for this afternoon. Sod it, he thought, sod it. He’d go.

He allowed a man by the front desk to fold him into his overcoat, then he unfurled his small umbrella and left the restaurant. He waited awhile on the corner of Dover Street and Bond Street, for a cab to appear. When one failed to materialize he began to walk, feeling the legs of his trousers soaking up the rain with every step. People barged towards him, forcing him into puddles and almost into the kerb. This was what it was to get old. No respect. No acknowledgement of the person you were or the person you had been. A strident gust of wind forced the spokes of his umbrella into rigor-mortised angles and he battled to bring it back
under control. He zigzagged through the streets of Mayfair, his eyes scanning the street constantly for that welcoming amber glow. Finally he saw a cab, across the road, just dropping off a fare. He skipped across the road, feeling his rich meal slopping about in the pit of his belly.

‘London N2,’ he said, breathlessly.

‘Sorry, mate,’ said the driver. ‘I’m on a call. Pre-booked.’

‘
Shit
,’ hissed Reggie, under his breath. ‘Well, where are you going, then?’

‘South Ken.’

Reggie thought briefly of his son, waiting for him on the other side of London. And then he thought of his warm flat in Chelsea, where he would be alone, required to talk to no one, to do nothing.

‘Fuck it,’ he said, ‘fuck it. Take me there. Take me to South Ken.’

He closed his umbrella, slipped into the back of the cab, and looked forward to getting home.

83

‘Oh, God, Toby,’ said Leah, stroking his back, ‘I’m really sorry. I can’t believe he didn’t come.’

Toby stared though the window at the street outside. He’d watched dusk come and go, and now it was dark. There’d been no phone call, no word from his father or from Peter. They were sitting side by side at the dining table. The chocolate cake sat on the table in front of them, a forty-five-degree wedge missing. A plate of garibaldis and fig rolls sat untouched next to a brand-new white china teapot. Toby tried to feel sad about this poignant arrangement of objects, tried to be hurt by the non-appearance of his father. But he couldn’t.

‘You know what?’ he said. ‘I don’t care that he didn’t come. I really don’t. This isn’t about him any more. And I’m not sure it ever was. This’ – he indicated the house – ‘this is about me. About… God, I don’t know, about
growing up
, I suppose.’ He laughed wryly and wiped some icing off the edge of the cake plate with his fingertip.

‘Are you suggesting that you weren’t a grown-up before?’

‘No. I was a very nearly forty-year-old teenager. Wearing the same clothes, writing the same crappy poems, in love with the same woman…’

‘Ruby?’

‘Yes, Ruby. How did you know?’

‘Blatantly obvious.’

He raised his eyebrows and sighed. ‘Ah, well. There you go. Wearing my schoolboy crush on my sleeve like an adolescent. I made a list, you know, after Gus left me his money, after my father wrote to me. A list of things I needed to do. It started off with buying new sofas and it ended with this.’ He cast his arm round the room. ‘I’ve achieved nearly everything I set out to achieve.’

‘You should feel very pleased with yourself.’

‘I do,’ he said. ‘Now I just need to write some publishable poetry, finalize the divorce and marry someone, and my list will be done and dusted.’

‘Marry someone?’ she smiled. ‘You put that on your list?!’

‘Well, not marry someone, necessarily. Just, you know, meet someone. Someone special. God, that sounds so naff.’

‘No, it doesn’t. It sounds absolutely right. Everyone should have someone special.’

Toby nodded and a silence followed. ‘What about you and Amitabh? You seem to be getting on well.’

‘Do we?’

‘Yes. Well, from what I could see.’

She sighed and laughed. ‘Well, that’s funny because we’re not. Not at all.’

‘Oh, dear. Why’s that?’

‘Because,’ she said, sighing and flicking her thumbnail
against the ring pull on her lager, ‘because he asked me to marry him…’

Toby turned to gaze at her, in amazement. ‘Oh, my God.
Really?
’

‘Uh-huh. A couple of weeks ago. And I still haven’t given him an answer.’

‘You haven’t?’

‘No. I just keep changing my mind. The pros and cons are so evenly weighted and I don’t know what to do.’

‘But you told me you didn’t want to marry him.’

‘I know. I know I did. But it’s all about options, isn’t it? It’s all about where I go next. And really and truly, where do I go next? If there was a sign somewhere, something to guide me on to the next place, the next turn in the road, then…’

‘Then you’d turn him down?’

She nodded and smiled ruefully.

‘Oh, Leah…’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘I know. Pathetic, isn’t it? I’m sure life wasn’t supposed to be like this. I’m sure the idea was that you met someone and you knew, that it was one thing or another, that it was black or it was white. But life – it’s so stupidly
grey
half the time, isn’t it? So vague and so silly and…
nothing
.’

‘Oh, but, Leah. It doesn’t have to be.’

‘Well, I know that. But sometimes it just
is
. And there’s nothing you can do about it.’

‘But of course there is. I mean, look at me. My life was as grey as it gets. As grey as clouds, as grey as
pigeons, as grey as concrete. And then, well,
you
came along. And made everything Technicolor.’

Leah laughed. ‘I did? How?’

‘Just by being you. By being so alive and fresh. By seeing beyond my strange demeanour and finding a perfectly nice, normal bloke underneath there whom I never knew existed. And when I say that I owe all of this to you, I’m not just talking about the house, my tenants, all of this, I’m talking about this man, sitting next to you, who goes out to shops and chats with old friends, and solves problems for people and buys his underwear from Marks and Spencer’s. I owe this man to you. Completely. You’ve transformed me, Leah, and I can’t bear to think that, having made my world kaleidoscopic with new and wonderful things, you’d compromise your own right to a proper, satisfying ending.’He turned his chair to face her properly. ‘I’ve spent my entire life letting the world wash over me. But not any more. It’s my turn now. And I want you to know that I’m here for you. One hundred per cent. Whatever you decide to do. But I also want you to know without a scintilla of uncertainty that I could be happy with you for ever. I want you to know…’ – he stopped, blinked, looked at Leah – ‘that I am completely in love with you…’

She stared back at him, breathlessly.

‘Does that surprise you?’he said.

She nodded, mutely.

‘I’ve been wanting to tell you for ages. That was why I ran out of that pub the other day. Because I was
about to tell you, then I lost my nerve and freaked. Completely. But now, well, I’ve realized. I’ve only got one stab at this. And I’ll be off soon and we won’t be neighbours any more and you’ll get married to someone who you’re not sure about and it’ll all be way too late.

‘Toby, I…’

‘Leah. It’s fine. You don’t have to say anything. I only want you to know this. Not to act on it. If you’re going to marry Amitabh, which I don’t think you should, then I want you to be armed with the knowledge that someone else loved you, too. That you had options, even if it was only me, a big, skinny old freak from over the road. I know that someone like you would never love someone like me…’

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t know. Because I’m me, because I’m…’

‘Tall, dark and handsome? Clever, charming and funny?’

Toby frowned. ‘Come on, now,’ he said. ‘Don’t be facetious.’

‘Who’s being facetious?’

‘Well, you are, obviously.’

‘No,’ said Leah, ‘I’m not. I’m being completely and utterly sincere. You and me. We fit.’ And then, to prove her point, she turned her chair towards Toby’s, brought Toby’s face towards hers with her hands, and said, ‘I’m going to kiss you now. Is that OK?’

Toby nodded, harder and more fervently than he’d ever nodded before, and when her lips met his he felt the whole blurry, fuzzy, silly and incomprehensible nonsense
of his being suddenly click into focus. He felt everything suddenly fall into place and make clear and perfect sense for the first time in his whole ridiculous life.

‘I can’t believe you just did that,’ he said.

‘Neither can I,’ laughed Leah.

‘That was amazing,’ said Toby.

‘It was, wasn’t it.’

‘Can I take it that you’re not going to marry Amitabh?’

‘Of course I’m not going to marry bloody Amitabh.’

‘Well, then,’ said Toby, ‘in that case, I think you should kiss me again.’

84

DIDCOT WALSH

312 High Road London N2 1AG

2 April 2005

Dear Toby,

I am writing to confirm the offer received this morning for the asking price of
£
995,000. The buyer is chain-free and hoping to exchange within six weeks. Hopefully it should be a smooth process. I don’t foresee any problems. I will be in touch shortly.

Yours faithfully,

W. F. Didcot

Walter Didcot

. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . ..
‘Oh, hello, this is a message for Toby Dobbs. It’s Susan here from Tixall’s in Penzance. Just to let you know that I’ve spoken to the owners of Chyandour House and they’ve accepted your
offer of
£
289,000. They’ve also agreed to take it off the market for a week, pending the sale of your own property. Hope this is OK and I’ll speak to you soon. . .’
. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . ..

In the BARNET County Court,

between
TOBY BERTRAND DOBBS
the Petitioner

and      
KAREN JANE DOBBS
         the Respondent

referring to the decree made in this cause on the

4th day of     MARCH       2005 whereby it was decreed that the
marriage solemnized on the

7th day of      AUGUST      1990
at        LAMBETH REGISTER OFFICE, THE TOWN HALL,
BRIXTON HILL SW2 1RW

between

TOBY BERTRAND DOBBS                 the Petitioner

and

KAREN JANE DOBBS                         the Respondent

be dissolved unless sufficient cause be shown to the court within (six) weeks from the making thereof why the said decree should not be made absolute, and no such cause having been shown, it is hereby certified that the said decree was on the 22nd day of APRIL 2005 made final and absolute and that the said marriage was thereby dissolved.

2 June 2005

Dear Toby
,

Wow! Thanks! I’ve just got my balance and the money’s gone in! Fuck – I thought it was a typo at first. Couldn’t believe all those zeros! Thanks a lot, mate. It’s the most decent thing anyone’s ever done for me and I won’t let you down. I promise not a penny of it will go on beer (or clothes!)
.