by M. E. Eadie
***
Outside his door, in the chill of the morning, their breath steaming out in coils, Colin hesitated, his hand hovering over the door. His courage quickly failing him, he was just about to turn away when Spike stepped past him and hammered his fist on the door.
Muffled movements came from inside, and then a voice telling them to wait a moment. The door opened, and filling the frame of the small door, stooping before them, was the immense form of Holdfast, the hair on his head disheveled, like a great wind had just swept over him. He scratched his chin, rubbed his beard with a big hand and blinked at them several times before actually recognizing them.
“Well, what brings you two here so early in the morning? Circus people get up early, but this is absurd.”
“Can we come in?” asked Colin, feeling the cold of the morning blowing through his woolen coat.
“Sure, come on in,” said Holdfast moving his sizable bulk over to the side of the caravan.
The interior of the caravan was a lot bigger than they expected. In fact it was a lot bigger than it really should have been. They expected a one room cloistered space, but what they got was an impossibly large, three-roomed chamber. There was a large kitchen with a big butcher’s block standing next to a large table above which hung a vast assortment of black pots and pans. There was also a commercial-sized stainless steel stove and refrigerator. Separated from the kitchen by a big arch was the strangest sunken living room they had ever seen. It looked like some bizarre surrealist painting, except it was real. At the edge of what seemed to be a vast desert sat a black leather sofa and matching recliner. Everything, the sand, the sphinx and the great pyramid on the horizon were the color of ecru. A blazing hot sun hung in the cloudless sky. In front of the couch was a big table decorated with Egyptian décor: framed papyrus paintings, scarabs, and the faces of a few of the many Egyptian Gods.
“Wow,” said Spike in awe, stepping out onto the sand, trying to take in everything at once. “How did you manage to get all of this in here? Is it real?” said Spike staring up at the pyramid. I mean can we climb it?”
Holdfast, still dressed in his nightgown and funny little hat, sunk down into the big leather recliner, his big bare feet rising into the air before them. If it was possible, he looked a bit embarrassed. “Sure, you can! You can even go inside, but I’m sure that’s not what you’re here about. Maestro doesn’t like us bragging about our living rooms. You should see Magenta’s; she’s got a pirate ship!”
“A pirate ship?” repeated Spike excitedly.
Colin cleared his voice. “What’s Frederick’s caravan like?”
Holdfast scratched his head and yawned. “Tell you the truth, I don’t know. He’s always been rather secretive about his living room. I never thought to ask him. Why?” he said, then a thought unfurled on his face. “You’re here about Frederick aren’t you?”
Colin nodded. There was no easy way to broach the subject so he simply spat it out. It was as though he had been holding his finger in a dike, and was now pulling it out. The pressure that had been building now rushed out in four simple words. “Is Frederick my father?”
Holdfast sat forward, the footrest of his recliner slipping back against the body of the chair. His hands were lying flat on his lap. As though he was making sure he heard the question right, he repeated, “Is Frederick your father?”
Colin nodded.
“Well!” said Holdfast in a sudden explosion of breath, slapping his thighs with his hands and with surprising agility, as he jumped up out of his chair (Colin was amazed by the big man’s dexterity and quickness). The little red ball on the end of his nightcap fell in front of his face and he blew it to the side, “There’s only one thing to do, isn’t there. You came to me because you’d find it difficult to deal with a denial from Frederick if he tells you he isn’t your father? And if he is your father, you’d find it difficult if he knew he was your father and was just being a deadbeat dad, right?” he asked discerningly.
“Yes.”
“I’m assuming you want my help, or else you wouldn’t have come to me?”
Colin nodded.
“Right, just leave it to me. He’ll be explaining himself by the end of the day, or else he’ll be limping for a week!” said Holdfast in a tone of righteous anger.
“No!” said Colin. “Just find out if he knows he has a son. Don’t mention me. If he doesn’t know, I’ll deal with it -- somehow.”
Holdfast stared at him with respect and then nodded gravely. “I see, you want me to do this covertly. Now, are you two hungry? I won’t take no for an answer. Let me go get changed and I’ll whip up some sausages and eggs for you.”
They walked off the hot desert sand and back into his kitchen.
