Not just another Summer - 25. Matt gets an offer & Kjell is annoyed

Late Friday morning, I thought I’d better get my visit to Simon over with. Sandra was on duty and told me how much Matt had enjoyed our visit to the Fish Shack and Sunday lunch, and for me to please convey her thanks to Vince. It was so lovely that Matt was making new friends in Coningham.

She said for me to go into Simon’s office. This was tiny and had probably once been acceptable, only now every inch of spare space seemed taken up with boxes.

Simon gave an embarrassed smile. “Sorry about the office. We had a flood in the stock room last year and moved everything into here. Then when things were sorted”, he shrugged, “we rather got used to having the extra space. So welcome to my office and the overflow stock room. Sorry, I’m wittering. I’m a bit nervous.”

“You, nervous?”

“Well, you might hate the cards.”

I laughed. “If they sell, then I won’t hate them. Welcome to the new me!”

Simon had the grace to laugh. “I have the proofs as PDFs, but I thought you might like to see mock ups. The printing’s only as good as my printer. The cut-and-paste job is all on me.”

I held the two cards, my poems and rather striking photos of the Castle looming against the sky. They weren’t fussy, but they worked. Looking at the PDFs, you could see the depth of colour and definition in the photos that was not apparent in the printouts.

I nodded. “Go with it. They look just right.”

Simon peered at me. “You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll admit it’s not what I imagined, but they certainly work. Will they sell?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “The style of cards was popular last year, so were the images.”

I smiled. “So you think these cards might be too.”

Simon snorted. “I bloody well hope so!”

I got up to go, but Simon had something more. “On Tuesday, would you fancy joining Eva and me at the Shining Bottle? They are having one of their special themed evenings, and we often go to them. This time it’s food from South-West France, I think, and I thought it would be good timing, before Eva gets too tied up in school and orchestral rehearsals.”

“Thanks! That would be terrific.”

As I left, Sandra warmly commended my poetry and said she thought the cards were going to be great. She also said that she was looking forward to the picture with my poetry.

When I finished working for the day, I showered and changed. Then I went to find Vince, who had said that he would be back early so that we could go and collect Matt. Freddie was on the drive, a broad grin on his face as he watched Vince backing the Daimler out of the garage.

When Vince got out of the car, he too gave a broad smile. “I thought we ought to give the old girl a final run, and it seemed appropriate given that she’s going to fund Matt’s project.”

“What’s that, Dad?”

“I’ve told you that you’ll find out in good time. Wait and see.”

“OK.” Freddie didn’t sound happy, but smiled.

Well, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been in the car. I’d forgotten how soft the suspension was, it was like being in a boat. Matt was suitably impressed and accepted Vince’s comment that we were giving the car a final outing before selling it.

We walked along the coast road as before, and Freddie was sent off on his own while we sat outside the same pub, the Essex Smack. Drinks bought, Matt looked at Vince with interest.

“You may know that I do a lot of work at the Centre.”

“The Horniman Centre.”

“Yes. And I see lots of men who can’t afford to do what they want because they need to earn money.”

Matt wasn’t stupid and he looked at me. “Like me?”

“Gray mentioned you and it chimed in with my thinking. We plan to sell a lot of Dad’s land to create a trust to provide grants to give just that sort of help.”

“Wow! That’s terrific!”

“But these things take time. We’ve also recently discovered that Dad’s Daimler is worth twenty grand or more.”

“That car? Wow! And it’s yours. Gray said...”

Vince rolled his eyes. “It’s a mess! The house is in a trust, but the contents are ours, including the car.”

“By accident, we suspect.” I smiled.

“Neither of us feels like benefitting from it.”

“Yeah, I can see that, from what Gray was telling me about your dad.”

“We’re going to sell it, create a small private trust, and offer to pay your wages for every hour you volunteer at the Reserve. If you’ll accept.”

Matt looked from one to another and back again. “This is on the level? You’re not shitting me?”

Vince drew out his phone and showed Matt an email from the valuer.

“Fuck! So it’s really worth twenty grand?”

“Or more. It’s a rare model, in excellent condition.”

“Because he didn’t bloody use it. The only real money Dad left us.”

“Only he didn’t mean to.”

Matt frowned. “But wouldn’t you want to, you know, spend it then?”

“Dad didn’t want us to have anything. He made that very clear.”

Vince was nodding. “That’s right. The car’s an accident, and we’d like to do something concrete with it.”

“Not frivolous.” I smiled. “Yet something he wouldn’t approve of.”

“Helping me volunteer at the Nature Reserve.”

“That’s a start.”

“A good one.”

Matt started to say something but stood up abruptly, excused himself and walked away, going to sit on the wall at the front of the pub.

Vince pulled a face. “That went well.”

“Give him a moment. I think he’s upset.”

“Shit! I didn’t expect... Sorry, I should have done this differently.”

Vince went to get us another drink, and I walked over to Matt. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I’m not used to folk being generous. Never happens to me.”

“Vince is worried that he has offended you, that you don’t want the help.”

Matt snorted. “If your dad’s gonna help me volunteer, then I’m in!”

Vince reappeared with three more glasses of wine. He was a wine person and Matt and I had gone with the flow and joined him. Freddie reappeared, bright as a button and all the better for an ice cream. He eyed the three of us.

“Is there a problem?”

Matt smiled. “Not a bit. Your dad and Gray plan to sell your grandad’s car to help me afford to be able to volunteer at the Nature Reserve.”

Freddie’s ‘Wow!’ was followed by a lot of chatter, and it was a very lively crew that made their way to the Fish Shack. Matt had recovered his equilibrium and joked with Vince that once he (Matt) was at the Reserve, Vince would have to come and join him. The strange thing was, Vince didn’t seem that put off by the idea at all.

Meal over, Matt looked a bit uncertain, then explained that his photographer friend had got back to him with a portfolio of possible photos. This meant explaining the project to Vince. Part of me quailed, I never liked revealing myself, though it was a necessary part of life. But on the other hand, if the project was to withstand the light of day, having Vince’s comments might be helpful.

Matt sent the link to Vince and me. It was Vince who had the big fuck-off phone and the best mobile provider, so we scrolled through the images in the portfolio on his phone, enjoying them immensely. A bit embarrassed, I quoted a few lines of suitable poems, and there was general agreement that the images alongside my words might work.

It was in this buoyant mood that we departed. I was in the back with Matt, who thanked me again and said his Mum would be chuffed. And he squeezed my hand and left his hand there.

Vince had had one more surprise up his sleeve. When talking to Matt about logistics, how he would actually get paid when volunteering at the Reserve, Vince said that Matt could submit a weekly time sheet and Freddie would handle everything. When Freddie exclaimed, Vince had blithely said that it would be good practice for him and Freddie looked chuffed.

---

Peter was at The Grange when we got back; so Vince had already given him a key. It was only practical, evidently. I had no problem with that, and I thought it suggested that, despite the ups and significant downs, their relationship was more developed than Vince let on.

We had family breakfast on Saturday, and even Freddie was up and about promptly. He and Arvid were going off on their bikes. I looked at Vince, who shrugged.

I turned to Freddie. “Are Arvid’s parents more amenable now?”

“Not sure, he don’t say much. But we’re off out, now. It’s not as though we’ll be doing much.”

Vince caught my eye and I saw Peter raise an eyebrow. We’d all been teenagers, finding all sorts of ways around parental restrictions.

Peter gave a rumble of amusement. “When I was 14 or 15, a group of us would go off swimming. Parents were all cool with it, but all sorts happened in the woods.” He grinned at Freddie. “One of the girls managed to get pregnant. So, I reckon you two might get creative.”

Freddie looked at the man, rather astonished.

Vince stared at Freddie. “Stick to the rules. Kjell’s rules. And make sure Arvid adheres to his curfew, right?”

“Yes. Dad.” Very resigned.

“And Peter’s right. You can be creative, just don’t be stupid.”

After Freddie disappeared, Vince returned to Peter’s story. “What happened to the pregnant girl?”

Peter shrugged. “She had an abortion, came back to school. She never let on. Vince knows the rest. The gang moved on from devilry to thievery, daring each other. By the time I was 18, I was working regularly for a gang, got caught.”

“What happened?”

Peter gave an embarrassed shrug. “Time inside. Could have been worse. I kept my head down and got qualified. The Centre was a big help when I got out and, well, I’m still there.” He gave a cock-eyed shrug, but I could tell both he and Vince were eyeing me carefully.

“Fair enough. Vince said that you’d managed to turn things around with the help of the Centre.”

“And his help too.”

It shouldn’t have been that much a surprise. There had to have been something difficult in Peter’s background for him to have been one of the Centre’s clients, someone whom Vince was helping. This needed a bit of consideration, but not now. I decided to go back to our original discussions.

“To get back to what you said at the beginning, was the swimming as innocent as it sounds?”

Peter wrinkled his nose. “Thought so at the time, but we know how these things work, girls are coerced.”

“Just girls?”

“Oh, I was willing enough to suck dicks, if there was no-one else. But it didn’t mean anything, just helping out a mate.” He grinned. We’d all been there at some point.

Vince shook his head. “It never occurred to me, at 15, 18 or 22 for that matter.”

“What?”

“Doing it with another guy. Not even a bit of helping out. Straight up, no pretending or anything. Never occurred to me.”

Peter smiled. “Until it did!”

“Christ!”

I slipped out before they got into it seriously. How widely known was it that Peter was an ex-con? People at the Centre knew, presumably. But had Vince talked about it to Freddie? I couldn’t imagine Vince not doing so, he had always been hot on being clear with the boy. I was interested to find out, but the act of asking would risk me seeming to be out of sympathy with the idea of forgiving and forgetting. And I had no problem, did I? That Peter having been in prison caused me a ripple of anxiety rather shocked me. I always imagined myself more relaxed than that. Was I that much Dad’s son?

That led me up another garden path. Did part of Vince find Peter attractive exactly because he knew that Dad would not have approved? I laughed. I certainly couldn’t see myself having that conversation with Vince any time soon.

I wasn’t quite sure how to handle the matter and decided, for the time being, that I would simply take it as read. Peter had told me and I had accepted it, hadn’t I? I didn’t need to make a big song and dance.

It clouded over early afternoon and the rain came, big time. I idly wondered about Freddie and Arvid, but they were 15, well able to cope with getting wet, drenched even. That had happened to me plenty of times when I was that age, wandering around the countryside on my bike, desperate to make sure my precious notebooks didn’t get wet.

I still had those; they were part of my youth that I did not abandon when I left home. I ended up digging them out, and lost ages flicking through, revisiting old ideas. I was brought up short when I found some early ideas for the poems that became A boy alone. It gave me an idea, and I was just photographing pages with a view to including them in my talk when I was aware of shouting in the hall. It didn’t sound like either Vince or Peter. As I reached the door to the hall, I recognised Kjell’s tones.

“Arvid, you must come home immediately! I will not have you…”

“Kjell, I don’t think…” The other voice, calmer, was Bella.

I pushed the door open. Freddie’s eyes widened with relief. He was standing at the foot of the stairs, whilst Kjell and Bella were in the middle of the room, with Kjell glaring, hands on hips. The recipient of the glare was his son, Arvid, up on the balcony. Freddie was wearing just a pair of shorts, whilst Arvid simply had a towel around his middle.

Kjell and Bella turned to face me and Kjell glared. “What is the meaning of this? Arvid said they would be supervised by a responsible person. You are not…”

“Kjell, now…” Bella put her hand on his arm.

“Papa, we eat when Mr Vince is home, and I will return when we agreed.”

“You are naked and unsupervised!”

“Mr Gray…”

“Is not a responsible person! He is…”

“Papa!”

“And you are naked!”

“We got wet. I told you. My clothes are drying.”

“Why that?” He pointed to the towel.

Arvid glared at his father, then dropped the towel completely. “Papa, I am not coming home now! I will be home when we agreed.”

I became aware that at some point, Vince and Peter had returned and were lurking in the doorway to the entrance lobby.

Kjell finally spotted them and rounded on Vince. “I demand that my son be returned to me! You are holding him!”

Vince was all calm and reason. “I cannot and will not in all conscience force Arvid…”

At which point Kjell lost it and launched himself forward towards the staircase. Bella was immobile with shock, but Peter moved the quickest.

I have heard of people called horse-whisperers for the way they could calm a troubled beast. The way Peter, just by talking quietly and putting a hand on Kjell’s arm, calmed the man sufficiently to at least stop him from attacking anyone was like that. Vince nodded at Freddie and Arvid, gesturing for them to disappear, and they scuttled towards Freddie’s room.

Then Vince turned to Kjell. “I think, Kjell, that perhaps we should talk. But now is not the time.”

Bella nodded. “Kjell, Love, Vince has said that Arvid will be home on time. Let them have their meal, as agreed, and we can talk.”

As Vince and Peter tried to quietly talk to Kjell and Bella whilst easing them out of the house, I slipped upstairs to look for the boys. They were in the old guest room that was now Freddie’s den. It had undergone a remarkable makeover in the time I’d been away. Décor and such had been updated at some time, and now Freddie’s additions included a profusion of photographs, his game console and more.

The two boys were sitting on what had been the bed, now covered in cushions. Freddie had acquired a t-shirt in addition to his shorts, whilst Arvid had retrieved his towel.

“What happened with Arvid’s mum and dad?”

“Your dad and Peter are chatting to them and seeing them out.”

“I am sorry, Mr Gray; I did not think that Papa would react so badly.”

“It’s not your fault, Arvid.”

The boy shifted uncomfortably, giving me an accidental flash of his junk. We needed to sort things out.

“Freddie, where are Arvid’s clothes?”

“In my bathroom, dripping.” He grinned. “Even his underpants got wet.”

“Right, so we need to find him something to wear rather than just a towel.”

Freddie’s eyes widened. “I don’t think anything of mine will fit.”

“Not you, your dad’s. Go and see if you can find one of your dad’s sleep t-shirts and some pants, cotton ones or sweatpants.”

“From dad’s room? But there’ll be Peter’s stuff there.”

I smiled. “I don’t think it will get up and bite you, and I’d bet that the two of them are a darn sight tidier than you are.”

He flushed but gave a sly grin. “OK.”

“Now, Arvid, there is nothing you can do, and it is not your fault.”

“I understand, but…”

I held up a hand. “Let’s park this, right? Freddie’s dad is chatting to your parents, and I think they’ll talk things through later. So let’s wait and not borrow trouble. The first thing is to get you dressed.”

He gave a shy smile, then Freddie erupted into the room. He thrust a t-shirt and a pair of cotton pants at me. I handed them to Arvid. They didn’t really fit well, but at least he looked decent.

Freddie made to go downstairs, but I stopped him. “Hang on a tick. Arvid’s clothes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s get them drying. Properly.”

Once I had pointed out that it would take a bit more than hanging on the rail in the bathroom to get Arvid’s clothes dry, the boys were willing enough to carry the wet bundle down the back stairs to the back kitchen-cum-laundry and set the clothes off in the tumble drier.

“Where have you three been?” Vince looked warily at us as we emerged into the kitchen proper from the laundry.

“Drying Arvid’s clothes.” I tried to aim for amused.

Peter nodded. “Good idea.”

“Hey! Those are my clothes!”

“I thought you wouldn’t mind. After all, Arvid can hardly have dinner dressed in a towel, can he?”

Arvid looked anxious. “Do you think I had better not stay?”

“Nonsense! Vince and I agreed with your parents that you would stay”. Peter gave an ironic smile. “After all, you are decently supervised now.”

“What did Arvid’s dad mean by there being no responsible person supervising us? Uncle Gray was here.”

Vince and Peter exchanged glances.

I coughed. “I suspect that Kjell does not regard me as a sober and responsible citizen because I am a gay, unemployed writer”.

Freddie was touchingly indignant on my behalf. “That’s not fair!”

Vince looked carefully at Arvid. “Candidly, I think that it might be the gay bit that Kjell really objected to.”

Arvid nodded. “He doesn’t dislike gay people really. It’s just that he thinks they are unserious and unreliable, like Mr Gray said.”

Peter stood up. “I think we should eat and leave further discussion until Vince and I have had a chance to talk to Kjell and Bella on Wednesday. We will be able to talk quietly then, and not lose our tempers”, with a significant look to Vince who gave a rueful smile.