Never Too Late To Explore - 17. On Display

Late the following morning, Eric got off the bus on the High Street, crossed the road, and pottered down the side lane to the café. His belly still felt as if it were leading the way. The quantity of food he ate at his birthday meal the night before was at least twice what he normally consumed in a day. And it was so rich. No wonder his guts were objecting. Breakfast that morning had been a mug of tea and a slice of dry toast. As he walked, one hand gave his belly a quick rub in the hope it would ease the sense of fullness. Another hot drink wouldn't go amiss before he went to the surgery to collect his signed repeat prescriptions.

He approached the counter in the café. “Just a cup of tea this morning, Brian.”

The owner looked surprised. “Nothing sweet tempt you? I've got some tea cakes fresh in.”

“No, thanks.”

“Can't imagine you're on a diet or something.”

Eric grunted. “Hardly. No, I'm still full from a meal I ate yesterday evening.”

“Oh, yes?” The other man held a milk jug, ready for filling.

Eric took a moment; he still wasn't used to other people being interested in his doings. “Yeah. I had supper in a proper restaurant.”

Brian placed everything onto a tray. “Just you?”

He reflected it was a tactful way of asking how he could afford to eat out. “No; with my two young men. It was a meal in honour of my birthday. First one ever.” Or at least, the only one he could recall.

“Meal, you mean; not birthday?” The other man chuckled as he picked up the laden tray. “Usual spot?”

“Yes, thanks.”

The café was quiet – older men like him had moved on to shopping or the bookies, and the lunch-time trade had yet to start.

Brian sat down with him. “So where did you go?”

“Err… The George.”

“Did you now!” The other man sounded impressed. “Haven't been there since the missus and I celebrated a special anniversary. That's a few years back now. Sounds as though you enjoyed it.”

“I did.” Stirring his tea, Eric decided to venture further. “And they gave me some presents.” No sooner out of his mouth, than it sounded like boasting.

Brian only smiled. “You must've had a great time. I'm pleased for you. Our family makes a fuss of the kids' birthdays; less so for everyone else, but it's still a special day. Sandra baked me an amazing Victoria sponge for my last birthday.”

Eric sat sipping his tea. Here was someone else with pleasant memories of family occasions. Not that he begrudged his friend; it merely served to emphasise his loneliness. He shrugged to himself. Didn't most things?

“I hope to make the lads something by way of return. For that and the time I spent at their house.”

“Oh, yes?”

He saw the other man's expression change to one that wondered what he might offer to his two monied friends.

“I've started drawing again…”

“Really?” Brian covered his mouth. “Sorry, that sounded rude. It's just…”

“I don't strike you as an artist?

“Something like that. Oh, god; I'm making assumptions again, aren't I?”

Eric gave a nod, though with a flicker of amusement. He didn't think he looked like an artist either. “Anyway, I've started a picture, but giving my friends a single sheet of paper makes me feel like I'm short-changing them.”

Brian looked puzzled. “I'm not sure what you're after then. You looking for a nice mount or frame? Or suggestions for an alternative gift?”

“Ehm…” He wasn't sure what he meant either.

“Wait!” The man opposite sat up straight. “There's something upstairs that'll suit. I'm sure of it.” He looked round the café. “Give me five minutes and I'll show you. Ehm… if anyone comes in, could you tell them I'll be back shortly? Just a couple of minutes. The missus is out shopping.”

“If you like.”

He concentrated on his tea as Brian bustled off behind the counter. Quite what any lunchtime customer would think of being greeted by him was something he preferred not to think about. Eric looked at the clock on the wall. Still a few minutes to midday; hopefully that would mean nobody yet would be in search of sandwiches and such. He listened to the various odd noises going on above him: doors being opened, furniture moved, and other things. All presumably coming from Brian in search of whatever it was.

Anxiously, Eric watched the clock's minute hand move closer to the vertical. Just as he was getting a little worked up, Brian reappeared, somewhat flustered, both hands holding out a large, empty picture mount with frame.

He propped it up against the table. “Here you go. Told you it was good.” He took a quick look around. “No-one waiting?”

“No.” Eric gazed at the offering.

“Good. … Oh, spoke too soon.” Brian rubbed his hands on his apron.

They both spotted the first gaggle of hungry workers, keen to be fed, opening the café's front door.

“Right… I need to get washed up quickly before starting any food preparation. Have a look at it, Eric. Take it if you like; otherwise just leave it there and I'll put it away again later.”

He hurried off to serve the rapidly-growing queue of customers and their demands for sandwiches, baguettes, and whatever else people spent their money on.

Drink forgotten, Eric continued to stare at the frame. It was oblong, about twice as long as it was wide. He reached out to touch the pale wood frame which contrasted nicely with two cream-coloured mounts running nearly its full length. The frame was solid and smooth with a good curve on the edge closest to the mounts. It would be no use whatsoever for the picture he'd spent so long over. That was square; and there was only the one.

A hand grasped the cup of tea while he thought. Some moments later, he gulped down the lukewarm liquid. What could he produce that would fit those mounts? His under-used artist's eye suggested panoramic vistas or landscapes. That got him thinking. Various possible scenes presented themselves from his working life: a view towards the Malvern Hills, another with a Grecian folly as its focus. Self-doubt crept in. What if he couldn't remember enough detail? Would what passed as his technique be up to the task?

He sat up. Only the other day, he'd tried out the image search on his computer. If it came to it, he could look for other peoples' photos to refresh his memory. It wouldn't be cheating; not if he had the thoughts first. And of course, there was his new landscape art book. What better way to put it into practice? Apart from flicking through it at the restaurant, he hadn't really read any of it. Getting back late, all he wanted to do was go to bed.

How the hell was he going to get it back home? With his stick, he only ever had one hand free. He stood up and tried lifting the frame an inch or two off the ground. Yes, he could manage that, but he would scarcely get it out the front door, never mind as far as the bus. As he struggled with the problem, two middle-aged women approached, both dressed in office clothes.

The younger of the two pointed at the table. “Are you just leaving?”

“Err…” Eric didn't know what to do.

“Only the café is pretty busy and we'd like a chance to chat.” Both women stood clutching their food and drink.

“Ehm… Yes, OK.” He grabbed hold of the frame and dragged it clear of the table while also trying to juggle his stick and coat.

The older woman put her lunch down. “You OK with that?” She hovered, unsure how to help. “I'd call a taxi, if I were you.”

Fortunately, there was a break in the queue at the counter. Eric waved the hand clutching his stick, hoping to attract Brian's attention. He turned back to the woman. “I'll be fine, thanks.”

Mentally, he totted up how much money he had left. Did he have enough for a taxi? Having never caught one in his life, he had no idea how much they cost.

Brian hurried over. “Well? Do you like it?”

As he nodded in reply, Eric realised that he might have to pay for the frame as well. Or did he? “How much for…?”

“You're doing us a favour, taking it away. Though…” Brian eyed up his predicament. “I should've thought of that sooner. How about I call you a taxi?”

Eric's thoughts were still concerned with cost.

“It'll only cost you three quid at the most – it's not far back to your place.”

That settled it. “Yes, please. And thanks for this.”

“It's no problem. Let's call it another birthday present, if you like.”

He did; the prescriptions could wait until the next day.

Late the following week, Andy moved round the kitchen, his economical movements assembling all the different elements of supper.

Adam propped himself up in the doorway. “Where're we eating?”

One eyebrow went up. “Here.” He indicated the place settings on the homely table. “You don't want to make it into a dining room affair, do you?”

His fiancé snorted. “No – it's the butler's night off.” He shook his head. “I wondered if you fancied a film or something while we eat?”

Andy studied what was on the plates. “Hmm… perhaps not. It's a fairly wet curry with a lot of tumeric. Unless you like having long-lasting yellow blotches on your clothes?”

Adam sat down at the table. “You calling me a messy eater?”

“Never.” A wide-eyed look of innocence fooled no-one.

“Any chutneys?”

He opened the fridge, then a couple of cupboards. “Ah… There we go; spicy mango do you?”

“Great.”

After a few minutes of quiet eating, Adam took a moment to tear his naan bread into pieces.

“Has Ritchie finally replied about putting us up over Pride?”

Their weekend in Birmingham was only a fortnight away.

Andy sighed. “God, he's hopeless. Email, texts, direct messages – the lot. I finally got a reply this afternoon. Yes, he's more than happy to provide accommodation. We may have to look after ourselves though; I forget how hyper he gets in the run-up to Pride.”

Adam breathed in slowly. “Remind me what he wore two years ago. On second thoughts, don't bother; wasn't it some angel creation?”

He grimaced slightly. Ritchie was one of his friends from uni; his glam persona – exaggerated by the festivities – irritated Adam somewhat. “You have to admit he works at it. Yes, it was ridiculous, but wonderful at the same time. A lot of people took selfies with him. … Anyway, what are we gonna wear?”

“Normal clothes?”

He frowned while continuing to eat. Neither of them were into the dressing-up; however going to Pride required an effort of some kind.

Then inspiration struck. “I bought some new cycle shorts for our holiday next month. What are yours like?”

Adam smirked. “Black.”

“Not what I meant.”

The smirk widened. “And… tight.”

“In all the right places?”

“You're the best judge of that.”

“Aren't I just.”

Their eyes met.

The intense gaze was broken by Andy who started to clear up. “What about our top halves?”

“Good question. There's no huge hurry.”

“OK.” Having dumped the used crockery in the sink, he returned with the fruit bowl. “Eric asks us both to come round on Sunday; he's got something to give us.”

Adam took a nectarine. “Sounds mysterious.”

“Not really. I know a little of what it is because I had to help him out. He just wants to thank us for staying here and his birthday stuff.”

“Nice gesture.”

Andy nodded, swallowing the morello cherries he was chewing. “Yeah. It means a lot to him. Oh, and another thing: we've a date for the video.”

“Wow.”

“Next Tuesday afternoon.”

“Just the one session?”

“We'll see. He may still pull out if he feels uncomfortable, even though he was OK when I filmed him.”

“But otherwise, a new media star is born.”

“Possibly.”

They both laughed and the conversation moved on to other things.

On the Sunday, Eric gave up forcing down his lunchtime sandwich. Leaving the remainder on his plate, he stood up and peered at Brian's picture frame, now filled with two watercolours. Were they straight? He stared at them until his eyes watered, but he still wasn't convinced. Maybe the paper was level and his drawings weren't? The old man shook his head. If the two lads were that bothered, they were welcome to do better.

The two finished watercolours would never be mistaken for Whistler or Turner – he'd been exploring the internet again. However they looked decent enough. The colours were good and clear; there was nothing insipid or muddy. He grimaced. Trying to include a vanishing point in each landscape had been difficult. How many times did he read that chapter in his book? At one time, it appeared the only thing vanishing was his eraser. If he hadn't to rely on Andy for the right size of paper, doubtless there would've been a small heap of screwed-up rejects. As it was, persistence paid off; even he saw how the drawings were improved as a result.

The doorbell rang. Eric gave the would-be present one last look before turning the frame to face the wall. No point in giving the surprise away as soon as they entered.

Andy bounded in first, giving him a hug that threatened to bruise his ribs. “Hi! I can't wait to see what you done with the paper. I'm expecting great things.”

“Are you now?” Eric's heart fell a little. It must've shown in his expression.

“I'm only teasing.” Andy's smile was open and genuine. “I think you're gonna surprise us.”

He reflected that comment could be taken in more than one way.

The young man turned and stood in the doorway, looking out down the path. “Come on! We're waiting for you.”

Adam arrived a second or two later. “Hi, Eric. Sorry – I had a close encounter with your neighbour.”

The other men sniggered.

Andy rolled his eyes. “And you got away that quickly?”

“Fortunately she had to be somewhere else.”

“Lucky you.”

A short while later, Andy put his cup down. “OK…” He looked towards his friend and client. “Is it time for the great reveal?”

Both of them noticed the picture frame when they sat down. He wondered where it came from. To buy it new would've been way beyond the other man's budget.

Eric stood up and spent a few moments struggling with the frame, trying to both turn it around and hold it so they could see. Adam leapt to his feet and took over one end of the proceedings. Between them, they easily manoeuvred it; however there was nowhere to display the painting. In a burst of inspiration, Andy moved swiftly into the kitchen and returned bearing one of the battered, upright seats. Once placed, the picture was balanced on it without too much effort; Eric kept one hand close in case of accidents.

He gazed at the two landscapes. Then he caught his fiancé's look; they both raised eyebrows. Andy swiftly did some digging on his phone. His eyes returned to images, both now familiar. Eric was looking uncomfortable as their silence lengthened.

He cleared his throat. “Do you know this place well, Eric?”

The other man shrugged. “It's been a good twenty-five years or more since I last worked there. Had to refresh my memory from the internet.”

Adam joined in. “Did you enjoy your time there?”

Another shrug. “Until it got sold to some bloke who couldn't care less.”

Andy took a closer look. “It's exactly as I remember it from a few months ago.”

“You know Croome Park?”

“Of course, it's hardly that far away. And…” He got a nod of agreement from Adam. “We're getting married there in the autumn.”

“Well I never.”

“It's owned by the National Trust now. We both thought it was a lovely place to have the ceremony and the reception.”

Adam joined him. “They are beautiful watercolours, Eric. Thank you. Never feel you have to reciprocate. We don't do something for you and expect a repayment.”

The older man looked faintly embarrassed by the praise. “If you hadn't given me that book, they would've turned out a lot worse.”

Andy gave voice to his curiosity. “Where's the frame from? It fits those landscapes perfectly.”

“Aye, well. That came first and the pictures followed. My friend from the café gave it me.”

They took possession. Adam hefted it up and took it out to the car.

“The next time you visit us, we'll show you where we hung it.” Andy suddenly recalled a lapse. “Oh, and our wedding? You're invited, of course.”

Eric was clearing away the mugs. “You'd want me there?” He grimaced. “I'm hardly going to be an adornment to your special day.”

Andy gave him a gentle, side-on hug. “Adam and I dearly wish you to be there. You are so much more than any client; our lives wouldn't be complete without your presence.”

That was greeted with a snort as the other man extricated himself and moved to the kitchen. Andy decided not to push it any further.

Adam returned. “We off?”

“Yeah. We need to look at wedding invitations.”

“Joy.” Adam leant into the kitchen. “We shall think of you every time we pass your picture, Eric. Thank you.”

The old man waved him away, though with a smile.

Andy squeezed in as well. “I'll pick you up on Tuesday. OK?”

“It's still on then?”

“Yes, unless you really don't want to.”

“No, I'll be there. I agreed and I don't like to go against that.”

“Good man.” Andy edged a little closer and gave Eric a kiss on the cheek.

He and Adam did a little dance so his fiancé could repeat the action.

Eric shooed them out. “I've got work to do. Haven't you?”

“Us? Of course, not.”

Their combined laughter was a perfect end to the visit.