Hard Tail (2 page)

So if Mum had rung, it must be something serious. A chill ran through me. Dad’s complained for years about pains in his chest, but the doctor’s always sworn blind it’s just indigestion. What if this time she was wrong? I grabbed the phone and perched on the arm of the sofa to call her.

“Mum?”

“Timothy! It’s about time you rang.”

I’d only rung her last Thursday. “Mum, is everything all right?” I asked, standing up.

“Well, how can it be? Your poor brother! And it’s not like we can get all the way over there every day for weeks on end, not with your father’s health—”

“Mum! What’s happened to Jay?” I was pacing round the living room by now. Mum often has this effect on me. Thank God we’d gone for the 80% wool carpet.

“What’s happened to James?” she repeated scathingly. “Really, Timothy, I do think you might make a bit more effort to keep in touch with what happens to your family. Blood is thicker than water, although I sometimes wonder if you’ve even heard the phrase—”

“Mum! Just tell me!” I half shouted down the line, cutting her off mid-flow.

There was a brief silence, punctuated by an alarming creak from the plastic case of my phone. I relaxed my grip a bit, although it took some effort. “There’s no need to be rude,” Mum complained. “Your brother had an accident with his skateboard.”

Jay’s thirty-one, in case you were wondering. Going on thirteen. “And?”

“He’s broken his femur. An unstable fracture, the doctors say. He’s almost certainly going to need surgery.”

The way she said it, you’d think it was my fault. “But he’s going to be okay?” I asked.

Mum sniffed. “Oh, you know doctors. Always telling you not to worry. That woman in the village surgery has never taken your father’s heart troubles seriously. Last time he went to see her, she sent him away with nothing but a couple of indigestion tablets! I don’t think they train them properly these days. That surgery’s never been the same since old Dr. Mallett left, not that anyone ever listens to me…”

She may, admittedly, have had a point there. I tuned her out with the ease of long practice and started making plans to drive down to Southampton next day.

It was only after I’d hung up I realised it hadn’t even occurred to me to mention my marriage had just ended.

Chapter Two

Jay’s my big brother. Trouble is, he never lets me forget it. He was lying in state in his hospital bed, looking relaxed as ever, propped up on more pillows than I’d had hot dinners. Well, since I’d left home, at any rate. Neither Kate nor I was ever much for cooking. She used to tell me how jealous her friends were that I was always taking her out for dinner. They thought it was romantic. They didn’t realise it was the only way either of us would get a decent meal that week.

A couple of nurses were fussing over my brother with big smiles on their faces. Jay was looking pretty pleased with himself too, despite the bandages and the prospect of surgery. If it’d been anyone else, I’d have assumed they’d given him the really good painkillers, but Jay’s never been one to worry when surrounded by attractive young women catering to his every whim.

“Tim! Good to see you!” he greeted me cheerfully. “Pull up a blanket and park your arse.”

The nurses bustled off, not before giving me that frown I always thought of as the “so which of you was adopted, then?” look. I sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed, the NHS budget apparently not stretching to visitors’ chairs these days. “So what happened, then?”

“Oh, it was just bad luck. I was trying to do an Ollie over a park bench, and it went a bit tits-up. I’d have been all right if I hadn’t landed right on the edge of it.”

“You were doing a
what
?” At least, I assumed he hadn’t meant doing a
who
.

I hoped he hadn’t meant doing a
who
.

“An Ollie. It’s that trick where you jump with the board, but you don’t use your hands. Looks dead cool if you get it right.”

“Right… You know, some people would say you make your own bad luck,” I muttered. “How are you, anyway? I mean, I talked to Mum, but…”

He laughed. “Has she got you picking out flowers for the funeral already? I’m fine. It’s only a broken leg.”

“Mum mentioned surgery,” I said cautiously.

Jay shrugged, as if it was no big deal. Maybe it wasn’t, for him. He’s been in and out of hospitals with broken bones since he was five years old—starting with falling out of trees and moving onto falling off mountains. “They’re just going to bung a few screws in. I’ll be fine.”

“Sounds like you’ll be off your feet for a while, though. What are you going to do about the shop?” Jay had started up a mountain bike shop around a year ago. From what he’d told me, it was doing okay. From what Mum told me, he was just one step away from world domination, but I’d taken that with a truckload of salt, as usual. “Are the staff up to keeping it afloat for you?”

I should have realised what was coming from the way Jay beamed at me. “Ah, well. That’s where you come in, you see? It’s perfect timing, innit? You need a job, and I need someone to manage the shop. Perfect!”

“Thank you, Jay. Nice to know someone’s happy about me being made redundant.” I said it as drily as I could manage, but as usual, sarcasm was lost on him. “Look, I don’t know the first thing about running a shop.”

“Oh, come on! It’s not like you’re not used to handling money, for God’s sake!” Jay rolled his eyes, as if I were being the unreasonable one.

“The accountancy profession’s come on a bit since Bob Cratchitt’s day, you know,” I protested. “I don’t sit in a freezing-cold garret counting money in my fingerless gloves. In fact, I don’t think I’ve
ever
handled actual money in the course of my professional career.”

“Well, then, it’ll get you back to your roots, won’t it? Remind you what all those columns of figures stand for.” Jay reached for a glass of water, and I hurried to move aside the enormous flowers-and-teddy-bear arrangement Jay’s latest girlfriend had brought in on her way to whatever beauty salon it was she worked in. Olivia, that was her name. I’d passed her on the way in, and in her blinding white tunic and trousers, she’d looked a lot more clinical and professional than most of the hospital staff I’d seen. I certainly wouldn’t have hesitated to put the lives of my nails in her hands. She’d said a cool hello to me but hadn’t bothered with a smile, presumably deeming me unworthy of risking cracked makeup for.

“Look,” Jay was saying, “you know I wouldn’t have asked you if there was anyone else.”

Never a truer word and all that.

“So stop being a prat. It’ll be fine. I’m not expecting a major sales push—just keep the bloody shop open, that’s all. Even you can manage that!”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. But what about your staff?” I was hazy as to the actual number of his employees, but I knew he had some, or one, at least. He’d asked me for advice on PAYE, and I’d put him in touch with a local payroll company. “Why can’t they run the shop? Isn’t that what you’re paying them for?”

“Well, there’s only Matt,” Jay said slowly. “And he can handle all the repairs and stuff, no problem. But he’s, well—put it this way: remember Auntie Pat and her Dulux dog?”

“Big, shaggy, gormless thing that used to jump on everyone and knock over all the furniture?” Now, alas, humping legs and anointing lamp posts in doggy heaven.

“Yeah, well, that’s pretty much Matt for you. He’s a great bloke, honestly he is, and a wizard at fixing up bikes, but you can’t leave him alone in the shop for more than a couple of hours.” Jay laughed. “He’s got a black eye at the moment. Tripped over his own doormat and landed on his face on the stair rail, the silly sod!”

Great. That was just what I needed when I was feeling my way around a new job: someone who’d likely as not trip me up and send me flying.

“Oh—and I’d better mention it now: he’s gay. That’s not going to be a problem with you, is it? Tim?” He said my name a bit more sharply than the rest; I guess my face must have given something away. I’ve always been rubbish at hiding my reactions; sometimes I feel like a TV set with the subtitles permanently turned on. Or maybe if I looked over my shoulder there’d be a little man hovering there giving a sign language translation. “For fuck’s sake,” Jay went on, “this is the twenty-first century. And don’t worry. He’s got a boyfriend already, and you are
really
not his type.”

“I—” I realised my mouth was hanging open and closed it so fast I nearly broke a tooth. “I’m not homophobic!”

“Yeah, right. You should look at your face in the mirror next time someone mentions the
gay
word. What the hell is your problem?”

He was more bewildered than angry. That’s Jay all over. He’s so bloody laid-back he can’t understand anyone ever having a negative opinion on anything anyone else does. “I haven’t got a problem with it, all right?”

“Just as long as Matt doesn’t find out. I’m not having you pissing off my staff while you’re playing at being a shopkeeper, all right?

How did this happen? How does this
always
happen?

Is there anyone else in the world so good at asking for a favour, and at the same time making it sound like he’s
doing
you a favour?

I hope not.

“Anyway, you can stay at my house. Kate won’t mind you being away for a few weeks, will she? It’ll probably do you both good—absence makes the tart grow blonder, and all that. Not that I’m implying Kate’s a tart, obviously.” He grinned. “Except when you want her to be.”

“She—” My voice caught unexpectedly. I cleared my throat. “Actually, she’s left me. Yesterday.”

“What? No way! Shit, really?” Jay’s face was suddenly so miserable it made me feel bad to look at it. “Tim, listen, I’m really sorry. Do you think she’ll come back?”

I shook my head. “No. She’s met someone else.” I shrugged. “He’s a decent bloke. I’m sure she’ll be better off with him.”

Jay clutched my arm, his big, rough-skinned hand a solid comfort. “She’s an idiot, mate. Didn’t know when she was well off. Look, if there’s anything I can do, anything at all, you tell me, right?”

And that’s why I agreed to look after the shop for him.

Because even though he’s an arrogant, self-centred layabout and has always taken me—and the rest of the world—for granted, he’s my big brother.

And he never lets me forget it.

Jay’s house was on the outskirts of Eling. I’d never actually seen it before—I mean, I’d been down to see Jay since he’d moved in, obviously, but we’d always done pub lunches. Just like when he’d been up to see me and Kate, we’d gone out to restaurants. Although, come to think of it, we’d insisted on giving Jay the Grand Tour of the house first. Well, just as soon as we’d got it looking nice. And avoiding the fourth bedroom, about which Kate and the decorators had had a bit of a disagreement and which consequently got left half done.

Outskirts, by the way, are pretty much all there is to Eling, as far as I’d been able to tell on such limited acquaintance with the place. That and the Tide Mill, advertised on brown Tourist Information signs all over town. I’d always assumed it was some kind of watermill except with tides rather than a stream. Now I came to think of it, it seemed unlikely there was an enormous waterwheel sitting there, waiting to be turned twice a day. Maybe I should take a look sometime. It wasn’t like I’d be that busy after work. I didn’t know a soul down here apart from Jay, and even if any of his friends popped round, I doubted we’d have much in common. Apart, of course, from a difficulty in believing Jay and I were actually related.

Jay bought the house with the money our grandmother left him. Apparently, everyone (by which I mean Mum and Gran) had agreed I didn’t need the money, what with the high-flying city career and more letters after my name than were in it. As long as you didn’t spell “Timothy” out fully, that was. I inherited the dog-eared complete works of Agatha Christie and the collection of pottery dragons, which Kate had taken one look at and banished to a series of cardboard boxes in the garage.

At least I’d be able to get them out now, I thought, brightening a little.

The hope had been that Jay would use his inheritance to get a more settled lifestyle, and amazingly, it’d actually worked. He’d set up the business, and had money left over for a two-bed ex-council house with a scrubby garden and van-owning neighbours.

I wondered if the neighbours would expect me to be friendly. Like Jay.

Jay had also, while he was at it, embraced a more holistic lifestyle. Which meant misshapen, organic veg and recycling everything. Actually, Jay had started on the path towards all things Green when he was twenty and dropped out of University. He’d gone on the hippy trail to Goa; never mind that he was thirty years too late. He’d come back six months later with a suitcase full of shell jewellery and drug-taking paraphernalia, an all-over tan and an STD. Mum had greeted him like he’d spent the last year and a half starving on a pig farm, not lazing around on a beach out of his skull, and not a word was said about the unfinished degree.

My 2:1 from Durham, meanwhile, was treated with about the same amount of enthusiasm as if I’d just come home with an ASBO and a caution for shoplifting.

After I left the hospital, I drove straight back up the M3. The gorse bushes that lined its southern half were in full bloom, a mass of warm yellow amid dark green. Feeling a bit more relaxed now I knew Jay wasn’t actually at death’s door, I eased off the accelerator to appreciate the view. Kate and I had never really been into the joys of the countryside. Our holidays together had been spent in cities, perusing museums and art galleries by day and enjoying fine dining and classical concerts by night. Looking at those bushes glowing golden in the late afternoon sun, I started to wonder if maybe there had been something missing. Something simpler.