Frank Derrick's Holiday of a Lifetime

by J. B. Morrison

  Laura must have felt like throwing the bowling bag with Bill inside high up into the warm Californian evening air.

  25

  It had taken longer to get out of the car park than it had to drive back to Euclid Street. If Frank had known how close the hospital was to the house, he would have fainted earlier on in his walk. He could have been ambulanced to the emergency room, been checked out and given the all clear in time to walk back to the house without Beth knowing that he’d even left.

  It was after 10 p.m. when they arrived at the house. Frank leaned on Jimmy as they walked from the car to the front door and, once inside, Beth took Frank straight to bed like a child at the end of a long journey. He closed his eyes and drifted in and out of sleep, catching brief sounds of talk and hushed laughter coming from the living room. He wanted to get out of bed just in case he was missing something but he just didn’t have the energy.

  When Frank pulled the alarm clock that had somehow found its way into the bed and under the pillow out from under his face, he saw that it was 11 a.m. and that he’d been asleep for over twelve hours. He’d woken up with a plan of action that was so clear that he must have been dreaming it. He was going to tell Beth about the landlord and the cheque and how he’d used it to pay for his and Bill’s airfares and as a result he only had a couple of weeks left before he would have to vacate his flat. It was so simple and he felt like a fool for not having told her the truth in the first place. Although he did consider how he might put a spin on it all to somehow make it sound just a little more positive. The flat was too large. He didn’t need the rooms. He wasn’t interested in the garden. The stairs were becoming difficult. If he filled his mouth with cotton wool he could adapt his discontinued Marlon Brando impression and reintroduce it as an impression of the landlord and repeat everything to Beth that the landlord had said to him. He could make it a funny story. He lay in bed rehearsing his script, just as he thought Troy at the planetarium and Robert on the Hollywood minibus tour must have done before going public with their presentations. Even the waiter at the Cheesecake Factory had probably practised reading the flavours and the specials in front of his mirror at home before coming to work. If Frank had to break the bad news to Beth he could at least make it entertaining. If only he had some video clips and music prepared.

  He climbed out of bed – and not since his accident with the milk float had getting out of bed felt more like climbing – and he began his descent from the mattress to the floor. As soon as he put the weight of his body on the ground, pain ascended through his ankles to his shins, his calves, his knees, his thighs and hips as though it had been stored overnight in the rug, building up intensity the longer that he slept. The blister on his heel had grown. His right foot had gone up a shoe size. There were also blisters on the balls of both feet and when he touched his nose he knew that it was sunburned. There was an indentation on his cheek from where he’d slept for the past half an hour on his alarm clock.

  He got dressed. He pulled a T-shirt over his head and noticed that his arms hurt too. He didn’t know why his arms hurt. They just seemed to be joining in. He slowly put his trousers on like he was dressing a wound. He picked his wallet up from the dressing table and took out the landlord’s cheque and put it in his trouser pocket. After a short glance in the mirror, which he regretted, Frank opened the bedroom door. He opened it with the same uncertainty as his first morning on Euclid Street. He didn’t know whom or what would be on the other side. Anger and recrimination or all’s-well-that-ends-well smiles and laughter. A round of applause perhaps.

  He hadn’t heard anyone leave. Jimmy could still be here. All three of them might be sitting in the living room waiting for him to appear. But the living room was empty. He went into the bathroom. When he came out, Beth was waiting for him. She didn’t look angry.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ she said.

  Frank looked around the living room.

  ‘Where are the stairs I fell down?’ He visibly wobbled.

  ‘You’d better sit,’ Beth said. She took his arm and led him the few steps across the room to the sofa. He winced with each step.

  ‘I’m all right,’ he said.

  ‘Sure. You look great. America’s next top model.’

  She helped him onto the sofa. He groaned involuntarily as he sat down. He was out of breath just from walking to the bathroom and across the room.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ Beth said.

  ‘I’m not sure. Not yet. I am thirsty. Could I have some English Blend?’

  Beth went into the kitchen and made him a cup of tea. She pulled a small side table over and put the cup on a saucer on the table. Frank tried to forget about his own condition and assessed Beth’s. She was wide awake so he marked her sleep pattern eight out of ten. Her appetite he also gave an eight (she was eating a banana) and he scored her an eight for her energy levels as well. Her outlook seemed good and her mood was almost definitely Sandra Bullock: evidence of Jimmy’s recent presence in the house – that and the straightened picture above the living-room desk.

  ‘We’re a bit late for the tar pits,’ Beth said. She picked up the itinerary and sat on the sofa next to Frank and read the day’s entry out loud:

  ‘Volcano: Beth and Frank go to the La Brea Tar Pits. Natural asphalt that’s seeped up through the ground over thousands of years and preserved the bones of animals trapped in the tar. Movies filmed at these locations include, and are possibly only: Volcano and Last Action Hero (although Last Action Hero was actually shot in a stunt tar pit elsewhere, so just Volcano then). Today’s Fact: The La Brea Tar Pits is a tautology and literally means “the the tar tar pits”.

  Beth said that she hadn’t really wanted to go. She’d been once before with Jimmy – which explained why Laura had included it on the itinerary – but she hadn’t enjoyed it that much and it was a long drive.

  ‘And Laura has the car,’ Beth said. ‘Unless you wanted to walk?’ She looked at Frank, perhaps expecting him to answer yes, but he said that he never wanted to walk anywhere again. ‘And I really don’t think we should go tomorrow either,’ Beth said. ‘A theme park is probably not what the doctor ordered for you at this time.’

  Frank had dearly wanted to go to Universal Studios but for the moment at least his aches and pains forced him to agree.

  ‘You should still go, though,’ he said, a little too knowingly selfless and heroic. ‘You mustn’t waste all the tickets because of me. I know they were incredibly expensive.’

  ‘Let’s wait and see,’ Beth said.

  Frank took a large drink from his teacup. He placed it back on the saucer with as much assertiveness as he could muster, to show that he was about to mean business.

  ‘Elizabeth,’ he said.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Do you know how you said that you were an unhappy number on an unlucky street?’

  ‘Oh don’t worry about that, Dad,’ Beth waved her hand to emphasize how far she had moved on, ‘I was tired and emotional.’

  ‘I know that. It’s just that I think I’m more of an unlucky number on a happy street.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’ve had such a wonderful time here. Really wonderful. The weather’s been glorious and so have all the places that I’ve been to. I couldn’t have asked for a better holiday. Even yesterday’s walk was enjoyable for a while until I didn’t know where I was – and fainting and breaking that man’s whiskey and all the rest of it, of course.’ From Beth’s puzzled expression Frank remembered that he hadn’t told her about the homeless man and the smashed bottle but he forged ahead with his confession. ‘Apart from you and Laura,’ he said, ‘and Mum, of course, I’ve never thought of myself as a particularly lucky man,’ he paused. ‘I’m not a winner, Elizabeth.’ He took another sip of tea. ‘I didn’t win on the Premium Bonds.’

  ‘What?’ Beth said. ‘What?’

  Frank put his hand in his pocket and took out the cheque. He unfolded it and handed it to Beth and he told her everythin
g, only pausing so that she could ask him to repeat what he’d just said and to check that he wasn’t joking, surely he must be joking, he was always joking, it wasn’t funny but he must be joking, he couldn’t have made himself homeless for the sake of a holiday, where did he expect to live? He said that he hadn’t really considered that at the time. He agreed that yes he’d been foolish and he knew now that it had been a ridiculously rash decision and he should have asked her for her advice or opinion at least; at the very worst, she might have been able to haggle with the landlord and get ten grand. Most of all, Beth couldn’t accept how, after all Frank’s bragging about how he always so expertly and amusingly dealt with the window cleaners and roofers, the insurance and equity-release salesmen and women and all the other hustlers and doorstep flimflammers, the legendary banisher of bunco artists, the scourge of swindlers, the all-great and powerful Frank Derrick would just give his home away on the doorstep.

  ‘He gave you the cheque and you gave him your home? As simple as that?’

  Frank nodded.

  Beth had to stand up and walk around in circles for a bit to come to terms with it and to assess the damage from his latest bombshell. She couldn’t seem to stop shaking her head; every time she thought of another consequence she shook her head again. Bill walked into the living room, disturbed from his elevenses by the pacing. Beth looked at the cat and shook her head again. He would be homeless too, or equally culpable.

  ‘What am I supposed to do now?’ she said.

  ‘You don’t have to do anything,’ Frank said.

  ‘Really?’ Beth said. ‘Jesus, Dad. Why didn’t you ask me for the money?’

  ‘I didn’t like to. You have one less pay cheque at the moment . . .’

  Beth interrupted him, ‘Don’t try and use me as your excuse and you didn’t know about that until I told you this week.’

  ‘You were ill,’ Frank said. ‘And I’m old and I was worried I might not see you again.’ There was an audible lump in his throat.

  ‘What’s the time?’ Beth said.

  Frank looked around for a clock but Beth was asking herself the question. ‘What’s your landlord’s phone number?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Frank said. ‘It’s in my address book.’

  ‘Here or at home?’

  ‘In my overnight bag. Do you want me to get it?’

  ‘Stay there,’ Beth said. She held out her open hand in case he didn’t understand. She went into Laura’s room. Frank regretted his confession. If he hadn’t told her she never would have found out and he could have taken his secret back to England and moved into a new home and, as long as he kept the same phone number and went back to his old flat to collect his post twice a year on his birthday and at Christmas, Beth would never have known. She came out of Laura’s room holding the address book. There was a strong sense of purpose that had taken her over. It was almost frightening and Frank was afraid to speak.

  She picked up the phone. ‘What’s his name?’ she said and opened the address book.

  Frank couldn’t remember the landlord’s name. He wasn’t sure that he had ever known it. ‘He’s in the book as the Godfather.’

  Beth was too focussed on whatever it was that she was about to do to question why he was called the Godfather. She turned the pages of the address book and dialled the number.

  It was the evening in England. Frank’s landlord was eating his dinner when he answered the phone. The serious tone of Beth’s voice very likely put him off his pudding. She asked him what he thought he was doing; did he realize that her father was in his eighties? How did he feel about throwing an old man out onto the street? Did he have a father or a grandfather? How would he feel if he was made homeless? She said she wasn’t sure that what the landlord had done was even legal. Had he recommended that her father should take legal advice? Were there witnesses to his signature? Why had he given him a cheque when he had no intention of honouring it? Was he trying to bamboozle an old man? Yes, bamboozle. An elderly man living on his own and vulnerable? Her calm assertiveness reminded Frank of Sheila when she was resolving issues and disputes – often financial, usually created by Frank. Beth’s voice was obviously more transatlantic than Sheila’s and she seemed to exaggerate her Americanness, because to Frank it made her sound more like she meant business and it must have sounded the same to the West Sussex landlord on the other end of the line. She spoke as though she had a billion-dollar team of hard-ass lawyers in the room with her instead of just one single five-thousand-pound dumb-ass. Even when she wasn’t talking, Beth was still the one in charge of the telephone conversation. She ended the call with, ‘I’ll be expecting that today.’ She didn’t say goodbye. She put the phone back on the desk next to the address book.

  ‘Done,’ she said. ‘Whatever money you have left after your taxi fares and anything you need to get you home, you’re going to give that back to him. I’m going to wire the balance. You can pay me back. He’s tearing up the agreement that for some cockamamie reason you signed,’ Beth said, knocking Laura’s ‘I’ll pop the trunk’ into second place as the most American thing that Frank had ever heard outside of a film.

  ‘Just like that?’ Frank said, summoning all his remaining willpower to not do a Tommy Cooper grunt and hands gesture.

  ‘How much of the money is left?’ Beth said.

  ‘About half, I think.’

  ‘I’ll transfer the full amount from my account and you can pay me back. Soon. Before you spend it on a trip to Paris or a romantic weekend in Las Vegas with Bill.’

  ‘I’ll get a job,’ Frank said.

  ‘Yes, Dad.’ Beth sat down heavily on the sofa like a sigh. She didn’t say anything for a full minute and then, ‘I told him you’ll be dead soon and he can have the flat then for nothing.’ She gave one final shake of the head. ‘Numpty,’ she said and Frank could only agree.

  They sat together on the sofa. Frank apologized again and Beth said that he should shut up about it now and although she was angry with him she was far more angry with the landlord and Frank should take advantage of that before she changed her mind.

  The room was at last calm and Frank was surprised, considering how little he’d been looking forward to returning to the flat, how relieved he was to know that he could. When he did go home, even if it was covered in snow and his flat was a supermarket, Fullwind-on-Sea was going to seem frightfully dull.

  Beth might still have felt more like killing than caring for Frank at the moment but she spent the rest of the day nursing and waiting on him. She put after-sun on his nose and his forehead and she repeatedly rearranged the cushions on the sofa when they became familiar and uncomfortable. She made him breakfast and lunch and cups of tea and rummaged through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and the cupboards and drawers in the kitchen until she found painkillers that he could swallow – ‘the ones that aren’t shiny get stuck in my throat’. She tied his hair back in a ponytail and cleaned his glasses because he could still see the thread of a spider’s web. She made him open his eyes wide so that she could try and see a loose hair or a speck of dust. She told him to close his eyes again and she blew sharply on his eyelids. With the ghostly spider’s web gone Beth put on a TV channel showing old black-and-white movies.

  She stood by the sofa and looked at Frank and she thought about how he used to tease her that one day he would become so old and infirm she would need to look after him. She would have to have to wheel him around in a bath chair, bathe him and feed him and change his underwear.

  ‘I thought when I put five and a half thousand miles of land, sea and border control between us I’d managed to escape this,’ she said. Frank smiled back at her. Like the Jurassic Park dinosaurs, Frank Derrick had found a way.

  Between Laurel and Hardy and The Treasure of the Sierra Madre films they talked about when Beth was ill and off school and she’d spend the whole day on the sofa like Frank. Sheila would send Frank out to the shops to buy a colouring book and colouring pencils and a bottle of Luco-zade wr
apped in gold cellophane and then he’d have to go back out again as she started to feel better to buy the banana ice lolly and mandarin oranges that she craved as her appetite gradually returned.

  ‘It’s all Gatorade here,’ Beth said.

  ‘I don’t think I know what that is,’ Frank said. ‘Is it made from alligators?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Frank wished that he’d been there to buy colouring books and unwrap sugary drinks when Beth had been recovering from her cancer. He had no doubt that Laura had been more than adequate in fulfilling that role but he couldn’t help feeling guilty for being so far away.

  ‘Will you tell Jimmy now?’ he said. ‘About Lump?’

  Beth was surprised to hear him using Laura’s nickname.

  ‘One step at a time,’ she said.

  There were steps! Frank couldn’t wait to tell Laura that there were steps.

  ‘He could always have my Universal Studios ticket,’ Frank said.

  ‘Maybe,’ Beth said, casually answering so soon that she must already have considered it herself.

  Frank had so much to tell Laura.

  26

  Psycho: Universal Studios, Hollywood.

  Movies filmed at these locations include: Almost anything you can think of.

  Today’s Fact: When Jim Carrey was at the studio filming Man on the Moon, in which he played comedian Andy Kaufman, he dressed up as Norman Bates’s mother and leapt out from behind the Psycho house with a rubber knife and jumped on board a tram on the studio tour, scaring the passengers.

  Ever since seeing Beth’s photographs from when she’d first moved to America, Frank had wanted to go to Universal Studios. It was the one day of his holiday that he’d planned himself. Laura’s itinerary was just a reminder. Frank had taken two different brochures home from the travel agents and he’d watched videos on the Internet of strangers enjoying themselves on the rides and in particular on the studio tram tour and he’d imagined that the videos were of him and his family instead. Frank felt that he knew his way around the fake streets of Universal Studios, quite clearly better than he did the real streets of Los Angeles. There were thirteen city blocks and four acres of fake streets with names such as Alfred Hitchcock Lane, Bing Crosby Drive and James Stewart Avenue that he’d looked forward to being on, and a century’s worth of former movie sets on the vast studio backlot that he wanted to see in real life and try to guess which films and television shows he recognized them from: Cabot Cove where Jessica Fletcher lived, Courthouse Square from Back to the Future and the fake cobblestones of Little Europe and the Court of Miracles, where Dracula and Frankenstein had been shot in the 1930s. When the tour tram slowed or stopped for a bridge collapse or an earthquake in a subway station or for King Kong or the Jaws shark to jump at him, Frank would have screamed with exaggerated surprise or fright and when the Jurassic dinosaur spat water at the tram or there was a Mexican flash flood, Beth and Laura would have laughed because they’d made sure that Frank was the one sitting in the outside seat of the tram where he was guaranteed to get wet.