The Yellow Villa

by Amanda Hampson

  There’s an older woman too, chatting away to Lana in Dutch. Initially he assumes the woman is a friend of the Van den Bergs, then notices her elf-like resemblance to Mia. Must be the mother elf. There are introductions all round. Predictably, Susannah is thrilled to meet Eva and treats the Van den Bergs like long-lost friends. It never ceases to irritate him the way she goes overboard in this regard. He knows for a fact that Thomas has offended Susannah on more than one occasion. At least her thespian training is being put to some use and Daddy’s money wasn’t completely wasted.

  Thomas and Lana greet Dominic with polite detachment; Ben is more welcoming but it seems there is something a little reserved in his manner where before there had only been an openness. In any case, the moment passes and perhaps he imagined it. All the same, it does exacerbate his discomfort at finding the Van den Bergs making themselves at home with his new friends.

  The women all appear very taken with each other, chatting volubly about nothing and everything, comparing notes, reinforcing each other’s opinions the way women do. The four of them set off into the house together to prepare afternoon tea, leaving him with Ben and Thomas who begin to discuss internet speeds – was there ever a less interesting subject than this one? Although clearly fascinating to some people, given how often it’s discussed nowadays. The internet seems to make people obsess about the same things on high rotation. Ben actually invites Thomas to bring his laptop over and test it on their system. This seems all rather personal; isn’t one’s network something private – like a bank account? You’d hardly offer someone you barely knew the opportunity to pop some money through your account to test the efficiency of the service.

  In a commendable effort to include Dominic, Ben explains the details of the software development project he’s now working full-time on, one that will last three or four months but is broken down into what he calls ‘sprints’. Thomas appears to have some understanding about Ben’s work and asks seemingly intelligent questions – something Dominic would never risk – but Ben’s responses are increasingly unintelligible.

  ‘The other thing I’ve been doing, on the side …’ says Ben, warming to his subject, ‘is buying the source code for established apps, reconfiguring and adding new graphics and extra features, so upgrading essentially, and relaunching.’

  ‘Ah, this is very cool. Is that completely legit?’ asks Thomas.

  ‘If you buy the source code, yeah. Once the app’s up, it’s set and forget. Plus you can make something from affiliations. You could make some real money if an app took off.’

  Dominic understands all the words but at the same time has no idea what they mean. It’s an odd experience, as if the language has been repurposed and now has hidden meanings.

  He waits for the right moment to introduce a subject that he understands but then the conversation turns to something called cryptocurrency. The two younger men become quietly excited as they discover a mutual interest in blockchain, quantum computing and prime number theories. Ben is clearly the more knowledgeable of the two, with Thomas conceding that he’s just getting a grasp on it. Dominic finds himself wearing the fixed smile of a simpleton, his gaze drawn towards the kitchen door as he waits to be rescued by the women. Finally, they appear with mugs of steaming tea and an uninspiring looking homemade cake. Whipped up by Eva, it is identified as a boterkoek – Dutch butter cake – and, despite its lacklustre appearance, proves a sweet salve to a tedious situation.

  It seems that the Dutchies had just completed a tour of the house and Lana now raves about how wonderful it all is and how thrilled she is to see this old property being restored, behaving for all the world as though she were the local mayor with a benevolent interest in the wellbeing of her flock. Thomas reveals that, prior to the Tinkers’ purchase, he came and viewed the house on their behalf, and it was he who lined up the utility providers ahead of time. So now the Van den Bergs seem to have developed a sense of ownership towards the property – and towards the Tinkers.

  Perhaps sensing Dominic’s discomfort, Ben takes him aside to show him a scythe he has discovered in the barn. Dominic picks up the tool, admiring the simplicity of the design. ‘This revolutionised farming when it replaced the sickle, probably three hundred years ago,’ he explains, relieved to resume his mantle of authority. ‘It was a huge advancement on the sickle, which forced workers to bend and turned them into cripples. A very elegant solution.’

  He gives it a few experimental sweeps only to be cautioned by Thomas. ‘Be careful, we just sharpened it. It will slice your leg off without a second thought.’

  As Dominic searches for an appropriate retort (one that’s not entirely offensive) he accidentally swings the blade perilously close to his foot. Susannah gives a little shriek and Ben gently removes the tool from his grasp.

  ‘Thomas was about to give us a demonstration,’ says Ben.

  Thomas takes the scythe in his hands and, with that infuriating smirk of his, explains: ‘My grandfather taught me to use this tool when I was a teenager. Do you know, it’s still actually more efficient than the petrol variety? It’s a very beautiful instrument.’

  Quite the showman, he swings into action. Rocking back and forth gracefully with swift and wide arching sweeps, he slices through the grass forming a long neat row to one side. Ben watches him with an expression of boyish delight. A smattering of applause from the ladies. Dominic helps himself to a second slice of boterkoek, apart from which the afternoon is clearly irredeemable.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Susannah has spent her morning following Dominic around the woods behind the house, picking up dead branches that he’s noisily lopped off and cut up with a small chainsaw, something he’s overly fond of wielding, always looking for an excuse. She’s been enlisted to fill up sacks and carry them home. As a concession, to win approval and cater to the simpler tastes of their young friends, Dominic has invited the Tinkers and Eva over for pizzas to be cooked in the old bread oven. He had spent a couple of hours cleaning it out and now, as he and Susannah stack the wood neatly underneath it, he explains that he has some business to discuss with Ben, and she should therefore keep Mia and Eva busy preparing the pizzas upstairs, while the men tend to the preparation of the oven.

  ‘I don’t know why you have to do it tonight. You can talk to Ben anytime,’ Susannah argues.

  ‘Not alone and without interruption I can’t.’

  ‘Why don’t you want anyone else to know? It’s not something illegal, is it?’

  ‘Of course not. O ye of little faith.’

  ‘Is that really so surprising, Dominic? That I don’t have faith in you any more?’

  ‘Do you ever tire of hoeing that same patch of ground? Scratching away at the same barren plot to see if you can rake up something new? Susannah, everything that needs to be said on that subject has been said. You don’t need to keep bringing it up.’

  ‘Well, just don’t give me something new to bring up!’

  ‘I said a business idea, not a bank heist, for God’s sake. I wish I’d never mentioned it.’

  ‘Well, tell me about it. What is it?’ Susannah hands him the last log with a savage thrust and begins to fold up the sacks.

  Dominic heaves an exaggerated sigh. ‘There’s no point in explaining it to you, ma chérie. It’s to do with the internet. Besides, I’m not seeking your approval, just a modicum of cooperation. Is that really too much to ask?’

  Susannah throws the sacks in the corner and stamps off upstairs. It’s infuriating the way Dominic takes this superior stance on modern technology when he has no more idea than she does. He doesn’t seem to realise how obvious his ignorance is, the way he enunciates internet, online and email, as if he alone knows the correct pronunciation of these terms. They are both marooned in the dark ages and no amount of poncy pronunciation can disguise that fact.

  When the guests arrive, Susannah goes out of her way to be warm and welcoming. She’s built a roaring fire in the living-room fireplace where they can gather
for snacks and drinks. When the pizzas are done, they can just eat with their hands in front of the fire, super casual.

  Eva seemed so lovely when they met on Sunday, but this evening she’s almost too interested in the Harringtons. She glances around as though casing the joint or looking for evidence, peering into dark corners for something the Tinkers might have missed. Perhaps because they are younger, Mia and Ben refrain from asking personal questions. Eva doesn’t follow any such protocol. She asks Susannah if they have children, where they lived in London, what plays Susannah has appeared in and why they left England to come to France. Susannah has been asked all of these questions before but not all at once. Expats don’t tend to ask intrusive questions of each other; there’s a respect for privacy and an understanding that some people may not want to share this information.

  Distracted by this interrogation, Susannah hasn’t noticed that Mia is sitting on Dominic’s precious antique chair, until, returning with the drinks, he suddenly bellows, ‘Not there! Sit anywhere but there!’

  Mia leaps up, scarlet-faced, stammering apologies. Susannah feels herself flushing with embarrassment. For God’s sake! The girl barely weighs an ounce; she’s hardly going to break the blasted thing. Anyone would think she had taken an axe to it. Had Susannah noticed, she would have simply ignored the gaffe, suggesting Mia move to a more comfortable chair. Ben is clearly shocked, blinking with confusion, not knowing what crime has been committed. Eva looks horrified. Dominic barely apologises. Probably because he thinks his reaction was warranted. ‘You couldn’t possibly know, my dear,’ he says loftily. ‘Family heirloom. Seventeenth century, Jacobean. I won’t say it’s priceless …’

  ‘Of course, it’s not priceless,’ interjects Susannah, guiding Mia over to the sofa. ‘It’s just a valuable antique. I’m terribly sorry he gave you such a fright.’

  ‘Gave us all a fright, actually,’ says Eva stonily. She gives Mia a look of maternal concern and in that moment, Susannah determines not to say another word on Dominic’s behalf. She has spent twenty-five years defending him, explaining away his unpredictable behaviour, reinterpreting his comments, making him out to be eccentric rather than obnoxious. Even when he’s been both drunk and obnoxious. From this day forth, his behaviour is his responsibility.

  Unfazed by the upset he has created, Dominic launches his master plan, cheerily suggesting that Ben bring his drink downstairs and the men can attend to the oven. ‘We’ll let you know when it’s at optimum temperature,’ he says to Susannah, who pointedly ignores him.

  When they’ve gone, the three women sit in silence until Susannah says, ‘I’m so embarrassed … I don’t know what to say … I’m really terribly sorry.’

  ‘There’s no reason why you should apologise, Susannah,’ says Mia.

  Eva agrees. ‘Let’s put it behind us. You have a lovely home, Susannah. Very comfortable.’

  ‘Thank you, on both counts. So have you just come over to see Mia and Ben, or do you have other plans, Eva?’

  ‘Mainly to help them settle in, but I’m also seeing family near Rotterdam next week.’

  ‘Oh? Is that where you’re from?’ asks Susannah, relieved that the conversation is lightening up.

  ‘No, I didn’t even go to the Netherlands until I was in my twenties. I was born in Indonesia, and my parents migrated to Australia in the sixties when the Dutch were kicked out of the colony.’

  ‘Mum speaks five languages,’ says Mia, looking admiringly at her mother. ‘Including Indonesian.’

  Eva laughs. ‘Not sure how good my Indonesian is these days. Most Dutch speak at least one if not two other languages. Actually, Mia’s French is better than mine now. I need more practice.’

  ‘So you’ll be back home for Christmas?’ asks Susannah.

  ‘Yes, it will be odd without Mia and Ben, we usually have a big family Christmas …’

  ‘Oh, but Mia and Ben must come to us for Christmas. Unlike the French, we’ll celebrate on Christmas Day in traditional English style. We’d love to have you,’ says Susannah. While Mia accepts the invitation gracefully, Susannah catches the doubtful expression on Eva’s face.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Made of bricks, the bread oven is a cavity built deep into the wall of the alcove outside the cellar. Dominic had prepared and lit the fire a couple of hours earlier. Now he and Ben scrape out the hot embers with a hoe and wash out the floor of the oven, so that the pizzas will be able to sit directly on the bricks. While they wait for the temperature to cool to 350 degrees, the two men bask in its radiant warmth and drink their wine.

  Dominic asks how Ben’s work is progressing, hoping the response won’t involve too much detail, but Ben seems disinclined to discuss his work as it’s stressful right now. So Dominic has a free run straight into his business idea.

  As he begins to outline his plan, even to his own ears, it sounds less like a plan and more like a collection of disconnected ideas with gaping holes that he had unwittingly anticipated Ben filling. He envisaged the younger man infused with enthusiasm at the prospect of working with someone of his stature, eager to bring his youthful skills and energy to the project. Dominic imagined them brainstorming together, mapping out ideas on paper, keen to meet up each day to push on with the project. He’d thought that perhaps they would form a company – Harrington Tinker Enterprises. Or the other way around if Ben was bothered by the hierarchy. Now he recognises Ben’s expression as one of discomfort, his eyes clouded with doubt. Dominic hears himself rambling in a desperate bid to get traction.

  Ben makes a polite show of considering his proposal but finally says, ‘Look, this kind of business is not my area. I’m more involved in back-end architecture development. What you’re talking about is more a marketing start-up. You just need a simple open-source content management system and a few plug-ins and you’re in business. And I’m more than happy to show you how to do that yourself.’

  Dominic waits expectantly, not sure if his idea has been dismissed out of hand. ‘So, what do you think of the idea? Generally.’

  ‘Look, I know you guys are not that tech-savvy and I’m no expert in micro start-ups, but what I can tell you in a general sense is that “experts”, especially in the area of consumer reviews, are kind of “old school”. The internet is a sort of democracy. It’s a populist platform so it’s hard to establish authority. With restaurant reviews, you can get a broader picture from a hundred – or a thousand – reviewers. With wine, you’ve got an insane amount of competition. It’s all about algorithms these days. Plus it’s near impossible to get people to pay for information when there’s so much available for free. The only way you’d get it to pay its way is by subscription. That’s a lot of work for probably not a lot of return – a long way down the track.’

  So there it is. The great idea crushed and discarded in a matter of minutes. Dominic fights the urge to resist, to argue that amateurs couldn’t hope to match his expertise and experience – let alone have the skill and wit to deliver an incisive review, whether it be to excoriate or endorse. A seasoned professional sets standards and holds an establishment to account in a way that a rabble can’t hope to do. And who’s to say complimentary reviews are objective and not simply the owner masquerading as a customer? Plus Ben is wrong about one thing: it’s not democracy, it’s anarchy. But it’s pointless to argue. He’d asked for the boy’s opinion and he got it. Now he feels like a fool. Worse, an old fool who’s out of touch with the modern world. He has to regain his footing and not let Ben see his disappointment.

  ‘Got it,’ he says jauntily. ‘Never mind. Back to the drawing board.’ He tops up their glasses and raises his in a toast. ‘To the drawing board. There’s always another idea where that one came from.’ But there isn’t. There is nothing else to fall back on.

  Ben checks the oven temperature again. ‘We’re pretty much good to go,’ he says abruptly. ‘I’ll get the girls to bring the pizzas down.’

  Dominic watches with envy as Ben takes the side stairs t
o the kitchen two at a time. He had a lot of energy at that age, although he didn’t expend it on athletic endeavour but tireless debauchery. He’d fallen up stairs and down a flight or two. Clubs, bars, restaurants. Navigating your way inside was relatively easy, it was only on the outward journey that the perils revealed themselves. But no regrets. He’d do it all again, given half the chance. He had more excitement in those early years than these youngsters will have in a lifetime; they’re wholesome as Quakers by comparison.

  Unquestionably, Ben is a better man than he ever was. Ben is a worthy character. He’s kind, caring and reliable, like a film hero. Nothing seems to faze him. He’s primed for any eventuality and has a firm grip on the twenty-first century. He’s part of the future world. He’d be an excellent business partner if that could be brought about. It’s just finding the right idea. But that is a bigger discussion and not for this evening as he can now hear the womenfolk chattering as they bring the pizzas down. Mia is saying she loves corn on her pizza. Eva likes pineapple. The thought alone is distressing. Corn. But, there it is – sometimes you have to play along and act as though poor taste is acceptable because there is more at stake.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The afterglow of my mother’s visit lasts for three days, then I start to fizzle. She’s organised and systematic and, when it comes to renovation, she has an experienced eye for what needs doing and knows how to do it. She was sympathetic to our idea of not stripping wallpapers or discarding shabby furniture or trying to ‘update’ the place but working with everything that remains of the history, preserving it like a vintage piece. The three of us went from room to room compiling a master list of tasks in a foolscap exercise book she bought. ‘One project at a time and complete it,’ she told us. ‘That way you won’t get overwhelmed.’