Page 55 of Jenny James Is Not a Disaster
“Yeah—what’s with the llamas?” asks Charlie, leaning forward.
“Alpacas, dear, alpacas. There is a difference—alpacas are shorter, and lighter, and have different ears. Well, he saw some at a county show and fell in love with them. We started with four, and now we have fifteen. They’re actually splendid animals—very engaging, low-maintenance, immensely calmingto be around. Your father takes tourists on walks with them on the weekends. Very popular it is too.”
“Really?” I ask incredulously. “Dad and tourists?”
My father was a lovely man but not always overly enamored by the many visitors our corner of Cornwall attracts in the summer. In fact, he was known to drive his tractor especially slowly on purpose just to annoy them.
“I know—he’s mellowed with age. He enjoys meeting the new people now, and it fills up his time, gives him a sense of purpose. I called him—he even has a mobile, after Richard and I bombarded him with threats! He was in the village; he’ll be here shortly. Charlie, do you like cricket? Your grandfather would love to play with you, I’m sure.”
I gulp back laughter at the thought of Charlie playing cricket—or in fact any game that doesn’t involve a screen and a handheld controller—but he replies eagerly: “Well, only a few times at school, and I wasn’t exactly at county level—but I’m willing to give it a go!”
Wow, I think.Wonders will never cease.This is a day of small miracles.
“And Richard,” I ask, “how is he?”
“He’s well. He moved to Falmouth—the lure of the big city!—and runs his own marketing company. He’s divorced, sadly, but as you said, that happens. Rebecca—you remember Rebecca?—well, she still lives here, which is lovely because we get to see a lot of his children, Ethan, who is seventeen now, and Shannon, who is fifteen.”
My brother is four years older than me, and I remember him mainly as the bane of my life. This is not uncommon with big brothers, I suspect, and from what I’ve seen of other people, the relationships usually balance out. Ours never did, because he was in his final year at uni when I walked out on the wholefamily. I didn’t even say goodbye to him, which I now deeply regret.
Rebecca, I do remember—she was his girlfriend all the way from year ten, and I’m not surprised they married young and had kids. I’m also, perhaps, not surprised that they’re divorced—she never wanted much more than to stay here and raise a brood, and he had bigger plans.
“Will I get to meet them?” asks Charlie, sounding thrilled. “My cousins?”
“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Mum replies, then frowns. “Although I have no idea how long you’re staying for, or even if you are... I couldn’t help noticing the magnificent motorhome you were driving, Luke. Are you on holiday? Do you need to get back to work?”Ah, I think—here we go.The very subtle questioning; a slight prod to try to establish Luke’s bona fides.
Luke smiles and replies simply: “Not at all. I actually live in the motorhome on a permanent basis, and I don’t have a job.”
He says this completely unapologetically, and I love that about him. My mother doesn’t know his story, doesn’t know what led him down the path he treads, and he has no need to explain. Good for him.
She just nods and moves back to Charlie, asking him about his exams and his plans for the future, sounding impressed at his university of choice, showing interest in his degree and generally charming him.
I catch Luke’s eye, and he gives me a quick wink. It is nice, feeling that he is on my side, feeling that I have an ally. This reunion has gone much better than I ever could have expected, but perhaps old habits die hard, and I still feel a slight prickle of guardedness around her now that the first flush of emotion has passed.
Charlie is just starting to tell his grandmother about some of our adventures on the way here when I hear the back door slam. My dad may have mellowed with age, but he still can’t close a door without a bang, it seems.
He walks into the room, and I stand up to greet him. My heart both swells and dips when I see him in the doorway, looking at me as though I’m a hallucination. It would not be overestimating things to say that he is a shadow of his former self. He was always a big man—not fat but solid, from a combination of manual labor and a love of food and beer. He played rugby in his youth and always looked like he could step onto a pitch at a moment’s notice. Now he seems a quarter of his usual size and looks as though he has shrunk in height by a couple of inches. His skin is drawn and what hair he has left is gray. He is, however, still dressed in what I think of as his uniform—baggy, blue, thick-gauge cord trousers, a check shirt, and a waterproof vest. It might be cracking the paving stones out there, but my dad never goes anywhere without his waterproof vest.
He comes over to me and grins, and some of the sparkle returns to his eyes.
“I heard a rumor,” he says eventually, “that a certain young lady had called in for tea. Come here, love, and give your old dad a hug!”
I do as I am asked, and it is a wondrous thing. He might feel different as he embraces me, but he still smells the same—a combination of Dad and Old Spice. It is the smell of home, in many ways.
“You all right then?” he says simply. “You look fantastic. Always knew you’d be a heart-stopper! And who do we have here then?” He wanders over to Charlie and Luke, listens to the introductions, shakes their hands, gives Betty a pat.
“So, Charlie, fancy a spot of cricket?” he asks, miming a batting gesture. “There’s plenty of light left in the day yet. Or rugby maybe? Luke, you look like a rugby man, am I right? What position did you play?”
“Flanker,” says Luke, nodding, “very much retired.”
“Well, I still have a ball around somewhere... or if you’re all tired, we could play tomorrow, if you like—after you meet my alpacas. You are all staying, aren’t you?”
We have not discussed this, Luke and Charlie and I. I was so focused on simply getting here, on dealing with seeing them again, that we somehow never tackled the issue of what might happen next. Did I expect to just pop in, say hi, here’s your grandson, see you in another eighteen years? Will they want me to stay here, in this house? Should I stick with Joy? Would Luke even want to stay, or is this all too real, all too awkward? Maybe he’ll find it easier to just go on his way now we’re safely deposited...
“Go on, Jen, say you’ll stay, at least for a bit?” my dad repeats. I hear his plaintive tone, and see Charlie’s hopeful face, and know that there is only one answer to that question.
“Yes, Dad,” I reply, my eyes flickering to Luke, “we’ll stay. At least for a bit.”
Chapter 17
