The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper (20 page)

Nathan stared into the bottom of his cup as if he was reading tea leaves even though Arthur made the brew with a tea bag. “I think I'd get upset. It would be so embarrassing. I don't want her to see that.”

“She won't mind. Please, just talk. I should have talked to my children more. I'm only just unraveling the past now. Don't leave it as long as I did. You won't regret it.”

Nathan nodded, taking in his words. He stood up. “Thanks, Tiger Man. You're all right, yeah.” He directed a punch at Arthur's arm, directly connecting with the tiger scratches.

Arthur smiled through the pain.

Later that day he went to the post office. Vera gave him a cheery wave as he entered. He asked if she had seen Bernadette that day but she reported that she hadn't. However, she said, there was a new widow over on Bridge Street who was in need of feeding up so Bernadette was probably there.

* * *

When he got back to the house, Arthur found the red light flashing on his answer machine. He pressed the button and listened to the message.

“Tiger Man. I've looked up this Sonny Yardley person. It's a lady! Anyways, not sure why I'm surprised by that. There are two on Facebook, but one is, like, eighteen. She has a nose ring and pink hair. I think the one you're looking for is a lecturer at Scarborough College. She teaches jewelry. There's not much else on her home page. It's pretty basic. She only has five friends, ha, ha. Hope that helps. Okay. Laters.”

The Paint Palette

ARTHUR PHONED BERNADETTE
that evening but there was no reply. He considered calling around but that might raise her suspicions and Nathan made him swear not to mention the hospital appointments.

She'll probably be at her belly-dancing class
, he told himself. He thought that actually she might look rather nice dressed in jewel colors and small brass bells, shaking off her worries. He wrote himself a note to phone her the next day.

While watching
NCIS
, which he rather enjoyed even though it was more grisly than it needed to be, he looked up the number for Scarborough College in the phone book. There wasn't a number for a jewelry department listed but there was one for Art and Design.

He sat with the phone receiver in his hand for fifteen minutes before he plucked up the courage to make the call. When he'd phoned Mr. Mehra in India it had sparked the start of a long journey of discoveries about his wife's life. Sylvie's words about him not liking what he might find out rang in his head. If Miriam and Sonny were friends, why would he not like what he heard?

His heart thumped as he dialed the number.
Don't worry, there will be no one there at this time of evening
, he told himself.

He expelled his breath when an answerphone message announced the college was open between the hours of nine and five and would he like to leave a message stating the department and person he wanted to contact.

He asked that Sonny Yardley phone Arthur Pepper as soon as possible. He left his home and mobile numbers.

At ten-thirty the next day, when he had received no reply, he left another message and then one at just past four, also. In between he rang Bernadette, but again she wasn't there.

The day after that he decided to call around to Bernadette's in person. When he left the house, Terry was mowing his lawn.

“How are things with your daughter, Arthur?”

“All good, thanks. We went to Paris for a long weekend.”

“Ah, yes, she said you had. It sounds fantastic.”

“She told you about our break?” Arthur frowned. He hadn't realized that Lucy and Terry were acquainted. “When?”

“I bumped into her at school. I was looking after my niece and we got chatting.” He gazed off into the distance for a moment, then refocused on Arthur. “Is she coming 'round for tea soon, then?”

“Probably.”

“So, does she live far?”

“Oh. No. Not too far.”

“That's good. It's nice for family to live close together.”

Arthur nodded at the lawn. “Why do you keep mowing it?” he asked. “It doesn't need doing that often.”

“No. It keeps me busy. I like things neat and tidy. My wife used to have me doing it this often, when we were together.”

“I didn't know you were married.”

“We moved back up here from the Midlands and things didn't work out. I've been divorced for over a year now. I've been single long enough. It would be nice to meet someone new to share things with. Is Lucy, er, with anyone at the moment?”

“She split up with her husband a while back.”

Terry shook his head. “That's tough.”

“It was. She's a lovely girl.”

“She seems very caring, Arthur. Families should be like that, shouldn't they? Looking out for one another. We moved to look after my mum when she had her fall. I wanted to do it. I couldn't let her struggle on her own or have a stranger doing it. My ex-wife had a bit of a grumble about relocating, but she liked it here after all.” He gave a wry smile. “She met someone else and left me for him.”

“Oh. I'm sorry to hear that.”

Terry shrugged. “I tried hard to make it work, but it wasn't to be.”

“And your mum...?”Arthur said cautiously.

“Oh, she's as right as rain.” Terry laughed. “I see her most days. She's even got a boyfriend. He's a lovely fella who lives two doors down from her. We all go for lunch most Sundays. Anyway, I'd better get back to work, mowing my lawn, hunting for tortoises. Will you tell Lucy that I asked after her?”

“Yes. Will do. Cheerio.” As Arthur started to walk away he wondered if Terry's well-wishes for Lucy were more than just friendly, and he decided that he didn't mind if they were.

At Bernadette's house he knocked on the door. The windows to the sitting room were open so he would imagine that someone was inside. He pictured her in the hallway, her back pressed against the wall, hiding from him. How had he been so cruel and ridiculous? He could hear the faint tinny sound of rock music and he stood and shouted out, “Nathan?” But there was no reply.

Feeling it was too forward to go around the back of the house, he returned home. The red light on his answer machine was unblinking. Sonny Yardley still hadn't returned his call.

He would have to take matters into his own hands.

* * *

Scarborough College was a swarm of students. They moved as if one, through the reception area and into the corridors that led off it like a termite mound. The youth and vitality surrounding Arthur made him feel very, very old. These young people would think they had their whole lives in front of them, unaware that it would pass in the blink of an eye.

It was easy to picture Miriam among them. Some of the fashions were the same—dark eyes, heavy fringes kissing eyelashes, short neat skirts. She had started to wear more grown-up clothes when they started dating, as if she had shelved part of her personality when they met. There were some trends that surprised him, too—holes through eyebrows, tattoos everywhere.

He asked at reception after Ms. Yardley in the art or jewelry department. The lady behind the desk had a phone glued to one ear and a mobile phone to the other. She spoke into them in turn. At the same time she had a file opened in front of her and she studied it. When she had hung up both the phones, Arthur said, “You need another arm.”

“Huh?” She glared at him, as if poised to deal with yet another student who had lost their iPhone.

“Like an octopus, so you can do all the stuff you need to do.”

“Tell me about it.” The woman popped a piece of chewing gum in her mouth. She had a round face and her platinum hair was pulled into a tight bun. “Are you here for the silver surfer's club?”

“Surfing? They do that here?”

“Are you trying to be funny?”

“No.” He had no idea what she was talking about. “I'm looking for the jewelry department. I'm hoping to find a Sonny Yardley.”

“Not today you won't. She's off sick. Been off for a few weeks now.”

Arthur's hopes sank. “But she does work here?”

“She does, but she only does part-time. It's her last term and she's about to retire. You could try Adam. He's been taking her classes. Room 304.”

The receptionist directed him to the room, which was in an old part of the college. When he had arrived, the foyer had been modern, lined with glass. A long walkway connected that building to another redbrick Victorian one. The windows were tall with lots of small panes and the walls were tiled in shiny bottle-green and cream slabs. It reminded him of being back at school. Any moment now his old teacher, Mrs. Clanchard would appear from a classroom, threateningly slapping a wooden ruler against her palm. He shuddered and carried on, reading the signs on the doors. Ceramics studio, sculpture, papermaking, glass. He finally found 304.

There was a circle of students in the room. Some stood at easels and others sat on wooden benches. All were facing blank white sheets of paper. A man stood in the center of the room. He was older than the others and wore a red checked shirt and jeans through which his knees poked. He dug a hand into his hair.

Arthur tapped him on the shoulder. “Adam?”

“Yes!” the man said as if his football team had scored. “Oh, thank God you're here. We've been waiting.”

The reception lady must have phoned ahead. “I'm Arthur Pepper. I...”

“Arthur. Yes. That's fine.” Adam twitched. “Look. I need to make a call. My wife is threatening to leave me again. If I don't phone, she will cut off my balls. Come into this room. I'll only be five minutes.” He moved swiftly and Arthur followed.

Arthur thought that five minutes seemed like rather a short period of time to win around a spouse, especially if she had a knife, but he did as he was told.

“Stay here for a moment,” Adam said.

The room was wood paneled. He had watched a Harry Potter film on TV once and the room reminded him of Hogwarts. There was an old oak desk with a green leather top, and artwork lined the walls. He strolled around and admired the work. After studying the third work (a charcoal drawing, very expressive), he realized that all the subjects were naked. Both men and women. They stretched, stood and sat for their portraits. With an amateur eye, he classed some as very good studies with clear brushstrokes, a nice use of color and the faces and expressions were well done. Others, he didn't really understand. They seemed to be little more than a collection of angry brushstrokes, scribbles and splashes of paint. Each was dated and the dates ran in succession. It appeared that a piece of artwork was added to the room each year.

He was working around the room the wrong way so he looked at the recent work first before he found his way to the seventies, then sixties. There was a painting at the end of the row that drew his eye. Unlike the other works this lady was smiling, as if she knew the artist and was posing especially for them rather than as a job. Her breasts jutted proudly outward. Her lips were parted. She looked more than a little like Miriam. He smiled at the resemblance.

Then his smile faded.

He studied the portrait again, stepping closer to the frame. He took in the aquamarine of the sitter's eyes, then the birthmark on her left hip. She had always hated that birthmark. It resembled a hot-air balloon with a large circular shape and then a small square beneath it.

Arthur found himself staring at a naked painting of his wife.

“Right.” Adam burst back into the room. He knitted his hand into his hair. “She won't bloody listen to me. Hung up, in fact. I have to call her back. She doesn't usually respond until I've rung her at least fifteen times. She judges how much I want her back by the number of calls I make. It's a game but if I want to keep her, then I have to play it. God, I could do without this. Anyway, the students are getting restless. Follow me.”

Arthur followed him to the original room. The students were still standing around, chatting and looking bored.

The portrait of his wife was stuck in his head. When had she posed? Who had she posed for? Why was she naked? He felt dazed, unable to focus on where he was and what he was here to ask. He put one foot in front of the other but felt as if he was floating rather than walking. He had expected a conversation, a mere yes or no that someone could tell him about the paint palette charm, but now he had discovered this. Just who had Miriam Pepper been?

“Go over there behind the screen. Then we can get started.” Adam clapped his hands.

Arthur stared blankly, his mind not functioning. Another waiting room? Where? Oh, there. Yes, okay, then. His feet moved again. He was aware only of himself and his discomfort.

It wasn't a room as such, more of a wooden screen, but there was a plastic chair and a glass of water on a low table. There was a toweling robe. He sat and waited for Adam. He thought of how at the beach with the kids Miriam clutched a towel around her in a series of Houdini-like moves as she removed her wet swimsuit and wriggled back into her underwear. On their wedding night she had insisted on the lights off. Yet, here she was naked. An image of her bare body had hung on the wall in a room for over forty years for all to admire it. He didn't know how to feel. Should he march back in there and pull it from the wall? Or would Miriam have been proud of the painting—that it wasn't about her at all but about the person who had painted it.

Who
had
painted it?

He felt the now-familiar emotions of jealousy and confusion invading his body again. Between each charm he raised his hopes, that the next thing he found out about his wife would be normal; it would be understandable. It would tell him that everything had been fine between them. And each time he felt even more bewildered. Everything had all once been so simple but his curiosity had spoiled that.

The chattering slowed down. A few minutes passed. Adam poked his head around the screen. “Are you ready yet?”

“Yes,” Arthur said. “Ready when you are.” He took a sip of the water. He reached out and felt the robe. It was white toweling and had gone stiff from being washed too many times. A few more minutes passed.

A girl appeared this time. She had black hair with a fuchsia fringe and wore a tartan kilt and biker boots. “Adam's had to make another call,” she said. “We were wondering if you're ready?”

“Yes. I told Adam. I've been waiting here for him.”