Not just another Summer - 45. Jacob arrives

“Evidently, Vince’s friend Dawn thinks we’re living in a gay commune.” Peter’s eyes sparkled.

“Come again?” I’d just sat down in the main kitchen, accepting a very welcome cup of coffee.

“Stands to reason, Uncle Gray. What with you, me, Dad and Jacob, when he arrives, plus Peter at weekends.”

“Hardly a commune.”

Vince cocked his head. “You a better word for it? And just wait till the Rotary Club gets hold of the idea.”

“And is that a problem?”

“Shouldn’t be.” Peter looked quite fierce. Oh joy. Trouble in paradise again?

“Bloody hope not. Besides, what is the problem? Living with my son and brother and giving house room to my trainee.” Vince looked equally fierce and decisive, thank goodness.

“Precisely!”

“Besides, Norman Fowler was responsible for drafting Dad’s bloody Will and he’s a big noise in the Rotary Club.”

“What was he trying to do in the Will?” Peter looked from Vince to me and back again.

“Fowler? Whatever Dad wanted. Dad?” Vince shrugged. “Fuck knows. Gray and I can’t decide.”

Vince looked over to me, I shook my head. “No idea. It’s tempting to think it was his way of trying to bring us together. Regretting what had happened to the family.”

Vince snorted. “Except Dad didn’t really do regret.”

“Or family, by the sound of it.” Peter rolled his eyes.

“So, it was probably one last evil joke.”

“Or a vicious dig, anticipating that we’d both refuse to live in the house, and it would get sold for charity. Dad’s way of leaving us something that we’d not benefit from.”

Freddie was looking startled and bemused, perhaps we weren’t being fair to him, giving him our views of his grandfather. Peter was clearly fascinated, but gave me a warning look, perhaps he had the same thought.

Vince wrinkled his nose. “Whatever Dad’s intentions, I shouldn’t think Fowler was worried. Follow instructions and not worry about the consequences; he’s that sort of lawyer.”

“And a bit of a shitty human being, too, or so I’ve heard.” Peter looked questioningly at Vince.

Vince gave a small smile. “I couldn’t possibly comment. Let’s just say that as a solicitor, he did everything Dad wanted, and more, without question!”

I was surprised that Freddie was up and about so early. He was dressed in baggy t-shirt and badly fitting sweat-pants that left little to the imagination. Evidently, he had been impelled by curiosity about Jacob as much as anything. However, he was certainly tucking into his breakfast.

Freddie looked up from his food. “Is Jacob going to come to breakfast on Saturdays?”

Peter and Vince exchanged glances, Peter smiled naughtily. “Would that mean we’d have to get dressed properly, or could Jacob join us in his underwear?”

Vince looked somewhat surprised. “Hang on. He is my bloody trainee.”

Freddie looked from his father to me and back, then he grinned. “And what if Jacob doesn’t wear underwear?”

Vince’s response to that was a glare. Peter ignored Freddie’s comment and addressed Vince; he wasn’t letting go. “But you’ve had tea together, naked.”

I coughed. “I think we need clear boundaries here. Is he a lodger upstairs or staying with us as a family? With the door to the attic locked and all, I would say that him joining us for breakfast should be by invitation only.”

Peter nodded in agreement with me. “Sounds sensible. Start small, he can join us for coffee or tea and that.”

“If he’s around.”

“If he even wants to join us for breakfast. For all we know, his idea of a relaxing morning is spending it in bed.”

Peter smiled. “Alone?”

I shrugged. “Shouldn’t matter to us, providing his choice of bed partner isn’t so dodgy as to veer onto the criminal.”

Peter and Vince looked at each other and the atmosphere cooled, alarmingly. Shit, I had managed to put my foot in it again, hadn’t I? We already had one visitor with a criminal record. I decided I’d better keep my mouth shut and not dig the hole any deeper.

Vince nodded, apparently pacified by the decision, or perhaps eager to move on. “Fair enough. Jacob comes down here by invitation only. That OK with you Freddie?”

“Yeah. Just wondered, that’s all.”

---

I heard Jacob before I saw him, the noise of his motorbike on the drive. When I walked outside, there was already a welcoming party gathered around the gleaming machine. For once, Jacob wasn’t in shorts, but he seemed to be able to make the uniform of t-shirt, jeans and leather jacket look remarkably stylish.

He smiled at everyone. “Turns out I have way more stuff than I realised. Spoil this baby’s sleek lines to have panniers.” He patted the bike. “So Maxi’s helping.”

With that a van pulled onto the drive, stencilled with the words ‘Maxi-Mum Entertainment’ on the sides along with a logo that could have been a turntable. Out clambered Jacob’s friend Maxi. He was of Indian extraction, judging from his colouring and hair, but his accent was pure Essex.

The two ferried boxes upstairs, helped by Freddie, and Vince showed Jacob where to park the bike in the garage. There was plenty of space now that the Daimler was gone. Jacob was pleased, “chuffed to bits” to use his words, that he could store his bike undercover.

I let Vince show him around, he didn’t need a whole circus as he looked at his rooms. I sat in the main kitchen and had another coffee with Peter, and once Jacob’s boxes were carried upstairs, Freddie disappeared off to his den. It felt almost cosy, just Peter and I sitting at the kitchen table.

“If you don’t mind my asking, how do you think this whole thing in Southwold will pan out?”

“Anyone’s guess? I am not involved in creating the physical objects to be displayed, nor in the look and feel of the show.”

“But you have input?”

“From photographs. It could still look crap when it is finished. Sacha’s photographs are real quality. But the general presentation could fuck things up, make it look like some bloody sixth-form project.”

Peter laughed. “What’s the alternative?”

“Not doing it or spending a fuck load of money.”

“Not viable options, then?”

“I’ve got to trust Sacha and Leila. The photographer and the gallery owner, they’re the ones with reputations to uphold.”

“They won’t want their names on a crap product.”

“Precisely. Quite who’ll be interested in the show is anyone’s guess, though. Frankly, Southwold’s the arse-end of the Universe when it comes to getting there.”

“But trendy.”

“In some circles. I suspect, though, that the punters will be largely from the local area.”

“Regulars at the festival; it happens every year, doesn’t it?”

“Dead on. So, they’ll dutifully turn up, swig crap booze and move on.”

“But the photographer is local.”

“Yeah, from Aldeburgh, so hopefully that will bring them in. For the photographs at least, still not sure whether there will be much biting when it comes to my poetry. Sacha’s idea of filming the show for the website and simply being able to write to people telling them about it might”, I shrugged, “concentrate minds. I don’t know. We want to get a publisher interested. Will they pay attention to a gallery in Southwold, no matter how trendy?”

“You might get some purchase with your local radio idea.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought. I am resigned to the exhibition being successful in its own right but leaving my career no further forward. Or perhaps that’s just me being me.”

“Sorry, should have kept my mouth shut.”

“Not at all. It helps to vent. Keeps me sane. Matt’s really looking forward to it.”

“And for the sake of your relationship you hope there’s no craziness?”

“For the sake of my sanity! But I’m almost certain there’ll be some sort of craziness. I just hope that Matt doesn’t find it…”

“Bewildering?” Peter smiled.

“Disappointing.”

Vince, Jacob and Maxi appeared on the balcony. Maxi came downstairs whilst Vince continued taking Jacob on tour. As Peter got Maxi a coffee, I decided to satisfy my curiosity.

“The van, that’s your DJ business?”

His smile was totally charming. “Yeah. If you can call it that. At the moment I’m mainly weddings, bar mitzvahs and stuff, not exactly burning the old vinyl at clubs.” He shrugged.

“But how is business?”

He frowned. “OK, if you don’t mind weddings and kids’ parties.” He rolled his eyes giving a remarkable flash of white against the brown. “They’re the worst. Demanding brides and mothers. The worst. I’ve started doing the odd DJ night, which is cool, and I might be getting a regular gig.”

“Which would be good?”

He grinned. “More than. In fact, that’s how I met Jacob. I was doing a DJ gig at a club with a view to getting a regular slot and he was there.”

“And did it work, getting the regular gig?”

“Still working on it.”

Vince and Jacob reappeared, coming in from the rear of the kitchen as I presume Vince had been showing Jacob the laundry; we had agreed he could share that.

“Well, thank you. I can see I’m going to be well set, here.”

“Thank you.”

“Vince has shown you around?”

“Certainly. And said I can use the laundry, save me the embarrassment of washing my smalls in public.”

“It occurs to me…” Vince emerged from the kitchen. “We don’t know how sound-proof this place is. You’d better let us know if you hear too much.”

Jacob rolled his eyes theatrically. “Yes boss. If I hear what you and Peter get up to, you’ll know.”

There were, thankfully, guffaws.

“You know, it’s a real relief to have the bike under cover. It cost a bomb to get into shape, and when I looked into it, renting garage space here was worse than renting a flat.”

It proved an enjoyable non-event. Jacob was entirely unfazed by events; completely charming yet, I noted, never letting himself be committed to anything, keeping us at a friendly distance. I rather imagined he would not be dropping in on us with any regularity. He seemed to be very self-contained. I suspected that his problems with his previous firm might have contributed to a tendency to not let his guard down, using a generic friendly manner to keep people from getting too close.

Things wound up quickly and I retired, clutching a flash drive that Jacob had given to me. It held the final versions of my radio demos; I did listen to them, for one last time, then set to. I had emailed some copy to Vince who had made suggestions, and I started work on sending information out to the list of radio station contacts. Casting bread on the waters, in this case with no idea what might come back.

I am not good with words. I worry over them. Not just poetry, but any sort of written material. I managed to communicate with Bas, but that was in short emails that were dashed off and sent before I could over-think them. Stream of consciousness, if you will. Anything more developed, and the bloody things would never get sent. But this meant that bumph like press releases and publicity material either got half-written and put to one side to be considered further or had to be rushed out willy-nilly. Thankfully, Vince had brought a more considered approach to the text to be sent to radio stations, his comments included plenty of phrases like ‘did you really mean…’

I had just about finished. All that remained to do were emails to some barmier ideas of places to send the demos. I just needed a think. Tea seemed a good idea and almost as if summoned, Freddie appeared, dressed and carefully carrying a box from Treasures. Cake?

“I met mates in town and brought some cake from Treasures. Matt wasn’t there.”

“He’s spending the weekend trying to mix birdwatching, the Nature Reserve and course work, all back-to-back.”

“Hard work! The woman at the shop recognised us and gave me extra cake.” He grinned. “Is it OK, to you know, strip off.”

I shrugged. “Well, I am.”

“I know, but with Jacob…”

“Safely locked away in his attic we hope.”

Freddie sniggered and started to strip off. “Dad needn’t have worried, Jacob seems very together and sorted.”

Jacob did not occupy us as a topic of conversation for long, and the subject of Southwold appeared back on the horizon. We started talking about the admin and how it was going, he ended up helping me to log all my current set of radio demo requests in a new spreadsheet, with an injunction to log any replies so that we could chase up those that didn’t reply. I was certainly being organised. By my nephew!

We had virtually finished, when Vince and Peter appeared.

“Ah, there you are Freddie, we wondered if you were back.”

“I got cake for Uncle Gray and I, at Treasures, and I’ve been helping with his admin.”

Vince raised an eyebrow. “Again.”

I laughed. “I’m being organised by Freddie.”

“The shop gave us heaps of cake, there’s lots left if you ask Uncle Gray nicely. And do you want me to…”

Vince smiled. “If Gray is happy for us to stay than I think we can manage the dress code. The annexe is proving a bit cosier than the hall, this weather.”

“Well, don’t you be getting ideas. I still have work to do.”

“How is that going?”

So, whilst we had an impromptu naked tea, I brought them up to date on everything. This time, there was no interruption from Jacob, thank goodness.

---

“So, how was your day?”

>Oof. Busy. I’m knackered.

“Where are you now?”

>On me bed. Mum’s made me some Horlicks, said it will help relax me and put me to sleep.

“Will it? Do you even like Horlicks?”

>Not sure. It’s OK.

Matt paused; I wondered what was coming. We were just having an idle catch up, just before bed.

>It’d be nicer if I was with you, having a night cap.

“Lidl’s finest whisky.”

>Don’t knock it. And yeah. That’d be nice. And a cuddle.

I smiled. “Sorry. Can’t be done remotely.”

>What did you get up to today, then?

“Work, mainly. Jacob arrived.”

>How was he?

“Friendly. Not too much though.”

>Doesn’t want to get too involved with his boss’ family?

“Can you blame him?”

>Nah. What you doing tomorrow, then?

“Working. I have things to write, and I need to practice my talk.”

>You have an audience?

I laughed. “No fear. I’ll do a test run at the centre. This is to get it into my brain. If the weather is cooperating, I’ll go for a walk and practice as I stroll. Works for me.”

>Walking while you work. I’m looking forward to your talk.

“It won’t be that different.”

>But there’ll be new stuff. And you’re reading different poems?

“True. You know all this talk of getting cosy, I was thinking how nice it would be if this place had a real fire.”

>With crackling logs and that.

“Nice and toasty.”

>Just the two of us.

The rest got silly and more than a bit flirty.