Not just another Summer - 23. Party time at Philpott Towers

The sound of a car arriving on the gravel drive interrupted Freddie and my counting of cutlery and crockery. Freddie looked at me and grinned. “O shit!”

We were still in mufti – t-shirt and shorts – doing an essential but forgotten task of finding out if we had enough cutlery and crockery for the guests. The answer was ‘yes’, but it was mix ‘n match. Freddie had informed me that his dad and Peter were upstairs having a shower. The way the boy lifted one eyebrow, I could see that ‘having a shower’ was going to become code for ‘sex’. I was starting to get the impression that my brother and Peter had a lot of sex. Making up for lost time?

The pair of us went out onto the drive to find four people emerging from an elderly Ford Fiesta. Well, three adults and a boy of around ten or so. A woman in her 40s, grey-haired bob, big glasses and wearing a remarkably tailored shirt-dress that showed off her ample figure; a tall, willowy 30-something guy with floppy blond hair; and another woman who might have been the grey-haired woman’s younger sister.

For a moment we all stared at each other, then the grey-haired 40-something stepped forward towards Freddie. “You must be Freddie. I’m Carly. We”, she pointed to the tall man, “work in your dad’s office.”

Freddie nodded. “Yeah, I…” He drew himself up. “Hello. This is my Uncle Gray.”

“Ah, the poet!”

The willowy guy stepped forward. “And I’m Gustave. We’ve brought you a present.” He beamed.

Carly looked less certain. “We hope.”

“My sister, Lise”, Gustave gestured to the other woman who lurked by the car with the boy, “Picked these up at a car boot. We thought of you.”

Carly looked from me to Freddie and back. “Vince said you were trying to do up the lounge, and we thought they might do as throws over the settees.”

At this point, the other woman moved towards the boot of the car, ruffled the boy’s hair, and said in a wonderfully dead-pan voice, “Better get them then, Joey.”

With much fussing from Carly, ineffectual hovering from Gustave, and practical work from Lise and Joey, we got the three packages into the hall. This room got an ‘Oh, wow!’ from Gustave, and I realised that none of them had probably ever been inside the house. Why would they? Dad only ever entertained people who were his friends (i.e. other older blokes and their wives) or were people he wanted to impress or who could do something either for him or for one of the causes he espoused.

There was a sound of ripping. I looked up and there was a sly grin on the boy, Joey’s, face as he ripped open the plastic covering of one of the packages, revealing the throw. They actually were quite stylish, certainly not cheap, rough cotton woven loosely into a fabric that probably had Middle-Eastern inspirations.

Carly and Gustave, with some help from Lise and Joey, got them onto the sofas. Where they looked, well, interesting. But what do I know? Anyway, they certainly covered the horrible brown leather, so that was a plus.

At this point, Vince and Peter came downstairs. Freddie and I shared a glance. The boy was certainly proving to be sympathetic to undertones, he obviously understood. One of us should have let Vince know he had visitors, because the two men came down together. Vince stiffened when he saw Carly and Gustave, but then caught my eye and gave a brief rueful smile. I remembered our chats about not inventing and hoped he did too. Peter had stopped on the stairs a little way from Vince, putting a distance between them. Vince introduced Peter, but Carly and Gustave were too busy gushing over the throws to really pay attention. Peter caught my eye, and I tried not to laugh. I don’t think that either of us liked the throws that much, but Vince was doing a convincing job of seeming to appreciate them.

Lise couldn’t stay, she had work, but Joey could. Gustave had asked to borrow him as there were other children coming. Freddie and I escaped to dress properly, and Vince sorted out things as Peter set Carly and Gustave on completing the counting of crockery and cutlery.

I dressed, then sat wondering how much of a car crash this was going to be. I was interrupted from my reverie-cum-panic-attack by knocking on my outer door.

Matt stood there, looking awkward. “Hi. I wasn’t sure whether to come to you or the main house.”

I did a balancing gesture with my hands, ironic I hoped. “Either. People have already arrived.”

“Oh! You said…”

“Some of Vince’s colleagues arrived early with a contribution to our efforts to redecorate the hall.”

“Good.”

I laughed. “Not sure about that. Come and see for yourself.”

I needn’t have worried. Perhaps I was projecting myself onto Matt. He worked in a shop for God’s sake, successfully selling to all and sundry, and the rather disparate group socialised quite happily. We’d just reached the point when I thought Carly was going to ask me to play the piano when the doorbell went. Before anyone could answer, Joey brought Rowena in with two boys about Joey’s age. General greetings were followed by Rowena telling the boys to scoot, and the three ran off into the gardens.

“This place is …”, Rowena drew a breath, “something. You grew up here?”

“We both did. You have to imagine Mum colonising the kitchen.”

“Her domain?”

“Mmm, and Dad in his study playing records.”

“The piano?”

“A recent acquisition, but there was one here when I was growing up. It and my bedroom were my refuge. The house might seem a bit forbidding, but there was always warmth and lots of space.”

“How many people lived here?”

“Grandad lived in the annexe, Vince left for Uni when I eight and he never lived here fulltime again.”

“So, three or four of you, good lord! It seems…”

“Built for more. And neither Vince nor I were the sort to bring a crowd of friends home.” Vince appeared. “Just talking about what it was like to live here. Did you ever bring lots of mates home?”

Vince hesitated. “Not sure I did. We’d more likely gather in town at the coffee bar.” His smile was somewhat rueful. “Besides, I think the guys found Dad a bit scary.”

I gave a snort of laughter. “I wonder why?”

“Anyway, Peter sent me over to say food’s ready.”

The food was laid out in the dining room with the doors opened. It was a nice spread: things to help yourself to. Vince and Peter had clearly been busy. That Peter had cooked a lot of it didn’t go unnoticed.

Most people wandered outside. The food and the people seemed to have brought Moggie out, and she was shamelessly wandering around getting love from people. Vince joined me and we stood in the doorway watching people outside.

“That cat is shameless.”

“Food and petting.” I grinned.

He sighed. “I’m going to have to accept it, aren’t I?”

I watched Peter talking animatedly to Carly and Gustave. “Peter?”

He sounded rueful rather than annoyed. “I brought this on myself, I know. The moment when we both came downstairs.”

“Sorry, I should have sent Freddie up to warn you.”

“What? That we needed to pretend?” His tone was surprisingly sharp. “That’s not what we agreed, was it?”

“No. But I also want you to be comfortable.”

Vince’s eyes focused on Peter and his tone was almost fond. “He’s comfortable. I’ve never seen him so relaxed. And…” He sighed. “Part of me gets it.”

“The part of you that’s sabotaged careful plans by having a party with your boyfriend?” I tried to keep it light.

He gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah. Fuck it up, eh?”

“Think about it, Vince, this is it. Living here, Peter staying. Freddie isn’t freaked out. Carly and Gustave have probably twigged or at least have an inkling.”

“Which means the rumour will be all around the office”. He tried for amused tolerance, but there was still an edge to it.

“What did Dad used to say?”

“Dad?”

“’If you fuck up, then suck it up’. You have to own it, make it your narrative.”

He stared at me. “You are starting to sound like a textbook, brother.”

“Too much time spent with academics, I’m afraid.”

“But you know. Maybe?”

He wandered over to Peter and stood next to him, not quite putting his arm around the man, but it was close.

I tend to stay put at parties, let people come to me. It works if you are the centre of attention or one of them. Other times it’s a bit patchy as a methodology. Freddie had been larking around with the kids at the bottom of the garden and returned, ending up chatting to Peter and Gustave, whilst Rowena and Carly seemed to be having a nose around the house.

I stood at the edge of the lawn and watched as Vince walked down and started to play with the boys. Happily playing by the looks of it. That surprised me. I didn’t associate my brother with rough and tumble, and he looked as if he was enjoying it too.

“You’re not joining them?” Rowena appeared from the house, looking at me quizzically.

“I hardly think so!” Then I pulled myself up short. “Sorry, that came out a bit sharp.”

“You’re not keen on children”. She looked at me perceptively.

“More like I’ve never really got used to them. For me they’re a bit of a foreign country.”

“You should try. You might even enjoy yourself.” She looked almost taunting.

I wrinkled my nose. “It seems to involve all the things I hated when I was that age.”

She opened her eyes wide.

“Oh, I wasn’t bullied, as such. But I was quiet, and I avoided situations where I could get accidentally hurt.”

“What did your dad think?”

“Oh, I kept it quiet.” I smiled. “Mostly. He thought a bit of rough-and-tumble was good for the soul.”

“Character building”. She gave an expressive shrug and shake of the head.

“I could do without that. And no thank you, I would have had no idea what to do.”

We watched Vince for a bit, then Rowena walked away. Vince finally smiled and shook his head, and encouraged the boys to run off somewhere. I went for a refill of food and drink. By the time I came back, Vince was talking to Matt, which made my ears twitch. I wasn’t jealous, I couldn’t be, but I still sidled over. Matt was talking about the bird life that could be seen at the Reserve at the moment, and Vince’s eyes were in no way glazed over. He seemed interested. Vince? Why not? Why ever not.

Did Vince have hobbies? That I didn’t have a clue shocked me. His life had been so much about work, passing exams and family. He had strong political views, but I don’t think he had ever been politically active. Vince as a local politician, now that was an idea to play with! Had he ever considered a hobby, taking time out? He seemed to detect my scrutiny, caught my eye and gave me a questioning look.

Matt broke off mid-explanation. “Gray, I wanted to ask Vince about the record player.”

Vince looked between us, his tone was puzzled, “Dad’s stereo? Gray said you’d played it, found some LPs.”

Matt looked positively eager. “Yes. I was wondering, would you mind? Could we?”

Which is how we ended up listening to Gisela May Sings Brecht. And damn me, Rowena knew about her and the music!

It wasn’t a car crash, but was simply a relaxed lunch. The big success was that Rowena’s sons had a whale of a time, and never once did she feel she had to look after them. And Joey seemed to get on with them too. At least the three made enough noise running around towards the bottom of the garden.

“They’re not going to end up in the reservoir, are they?”

Carly had come to stand next to me on the lawn, looking down at the boys.

“Don’t worry, there’s a fence and a ha-ha. But Grandad wanted to preserve the illusion that our land went all the way down to the water.”

“Did he own it all?”

“Not a bit. A lot of the land at the side of the house is ours, but the area around the reservoir was never up for grabs.”

“Even for someone like your grandfather?” There was a glint behind her specs, Carly obviously had a clear view when it came to my family.

“There’s only so many palms that can be greased!”

“Neither of you is very like your father or grandfather.”

“No. Much to Dad’s chagrin. We both pissed him off.”

She was quiet for a moment, then her tone was rather careful. “Vince had a real bounce in his step at work this week.”

“Doesn’t he always?”

“Not like this. Then today I saw the two of them together and light dawned. I am right, aren’t I? Him and Peter?”

“Yes. It’s a bit complicated and a bit new. He’s hoping that people won’t talk too much about it.”

She nodded. “Point taken. But I didn’t want to put my foot in it, either.”

I wondered, however, if I had.

Things wound up relatively swiftly. Rowena needed to get the boys home and Lise appeared to collect Carly, Gustave and Joey, whilst Matt followed the general exodus, though we did arrange to meet for breakfast.

Peter and Vince disappeared upstairs, and I roped Freddie into helping me tidy up. The dishwasher was rather elderly and inefficient (i.e., expensive to run) so Vince didn’t use it, but I thought we could risk it. Freddie wasn’t enthusiastic about the task but set to with relative energy and proved surprisingly efficient. We had finished by the time Peter and Vince came back downstairs, both looking subdued. Like that, was it?

Freddie made to go upstairs but Vince held him back, saying there was something to discuss. We sat down at the sofas with their new throws, alarming stabs of colour amidst the browns and subdued beiges of the hall.

“Peter wants…” Vince sounded hesitant, “I want…” He took a breath and looked at Peter. “We want Peter to stay here most weekends. If we see each other during the week, then I’ll stay at his flat.” He looked at Freddie. “I know it feels a bit sudden, but would you be comfortable?”

Freddie nodded. “Yeah, Dad, it’s cool.” Then he grinned at Peter. “It won’t be too freaky having Peter around and might be cool. Like today.”

“Thanks.”

Freddie scooted upstairs, eager to be away from all the adult angst.

“No doubt it will take time.”

Peter grinned. “For the cracks to appear? I’m only grateful he’s so calm about it.”

“For the moment. If I know my son, there’ll be a few bumps along the way.”

“So we’re going to try living en famille?” I smiled. “You, Peter, and Freddie, with me in the annexe.”

Vince stared at me. “You don’t have to live in the annexe.”

“Thank you”. I gave him a comic glare. “I like my personal time and space, and having the hall and kitchen shared between us works just fine for me.”

“Fair enough.” Vince paused, then his tone became sharper, “You told Carly.”

“Not quite. She asked and, as agreed, I didn’t lie.” Vince seemed to be about to say something, but I hurried on, “I also said it was a bit new, and that you hoped it wouldn’t be spoken about.”

Vince took a breath. “I’d hoped…”

Peter stared at him. “You are going to speak to the partners and the Centre’s trustees, after all.”

It seemed a continuation of previous discussions.

Vince was rueful. “Yes, that’s the plan. … You’re right, Gray, I need to tell the people that matter, and let the shit hit the fan and deal with it.” Then he smiled at Peter. “I’m certainly not giving up.”