He had always been a small man, Mucky, but now he looked shrivelled and tiny and she put her hand out impulsively and said, ‘Come on. We’ll sit down,’ and half led him and half pushed him past the counter to the doorway that led to the room at the back. Even under these odd circumstances it was a pleasure to be in the shop, with its high mahogany showcases and broad polished counter glinting with brass fittings, and the rich sugary smell of the tobacco filled her nose with familiar delight. She’d been coming in and out of this little shop for all her life. How could it have been ‘Acquired for Clients’ of anybody, let alone Joe Davriosh?
The small room was dim, for the curtains were still drawn and she pulled them back with a soft clash of the brass rings as he stood there and looked at her with his wizened nut of a face quite expressionless.
‘Come on, Mucky,’ she said heavily. ‘Put the kettle on and make me some coffee. And tell me what’s going on.’
To her surprise he obeyed, shuffling across to the little curtained corner where he had a small sink and a gas ring and a few dishes and she perched on the edge of the table and watched him as he moved through the familiar ritual.
‘All right. Now, what’s going on?’ she said as he came shuffling back and put a mug of steaming coffee into her hand. ‘Why are you looking like that? I’ve never seen you in such a state, and it doesn’t suit you.’
He looked down at his shirtsleeved arms, at the trousers concertinaed over his bare feet and said tremulously, ‘Didn’t feel up to it, this morning, getting dressed.’
‘What happened?’ she said more gently. ‘Tell me, Mucky.’
He began to weep, standing there with a mug of steaming coffee in one hand and letting tears slide down his cheeks as he stared at her, as woebegone as a child, and she reached forwards and took his mug and then made him sit down in the armchair beside the fireplace, ornamented now with dried grasses in a big vase instead of the big dancing fire that had made so many winter visits to this shop such a delight for the young Laura, and then gave him back his mug.
‘Drink that,’ she commanded. ‘You’ll feel better then.’ Obediently he began to sip and she sat and looked at him and waited patiently.
‘It was Simmy,’ he said at length and she was shocked at the way his voice sounded. He who was always so chipper and bright to seem so slurred and husky.
‘What did he do?’ She kept her own voice as gentle as she could, treating him as though he were a frightened child, who needed careful humouring. ‘Tell me about it.’
‘Sent me to France.’ He looked up at her and his eyes were still swimming. ‘I was so excited. Going to France – six weeks – it was such – I was so excited. But it wasn’t any pleasure at all. They didn’t like me. Ignored me. Treated me like a foreigner. Even the Bosquets did, and me a Bosquet, just like them. But they treated me as though I was just English. They didn’t like me at all – it wasn’t like that last time I went, five years ago –’
‘People can be silly, Mucky. Don’t worry about that. It’s not so bad to be English. I am –’
He shook his head. ‘You’re like me – different. You’re Hungarian. I’m French, and they didn’t want me. It was horrid and I wanted to come back sooner, but when I phoned Simmy he said not. Try to have fun, he said, and sent more money and I went to Monaco.’ He brightened a little then. ‘That was much better. I liked that better than France. They don’t hate you if you’re English in Monaco. They just like people who play in the Casino. I liked that.’
‘I’m glad,’ she said.
‘Didn’t win much,’ he said and tried to smile at her and for a moment the old Mucky glinted there. ‘Didn’t lose much either, but I had a lot of fun, toing and froing, you know, toing and froing.’
‘I’m sure you did.’ Still she was gentle, still humouring him, though she wanted to shake him to find out why those men were sitting even now in her kitchen eating her toast and drinking her cofee but knowing she couldn’t rush him.
‘And then I came home and Simmy –’ The old man frowned. ‘Simmy said there had been a few changes but nothing to worry about. Someone had bought the freehold and there was some extra money for me. Five thousand pounds – five thousand pounds.’
‘Simmy gave you –’ she began and he shook his head, more vigorously now.
‘Not Simmy. The new landlord. I didn’t know what had happened. It’s always been all right, you see. I just paid the rent every quarter, that was that. Now suddenly it’s someone else takes the rent – but I didn’t think I was – I mean, five thousand pounds.’ He closed his eyes and wailed. ‘I should have known. I should have argued! There’s never anyone gives you something for nothing!’
‘No,’ Laura said bitterly. ‘No one ever gives you anything for nothing. They just take.’ And there was a little silence between them as they stared at each other.
‘And then?’ she ventured at last and he took a little breath and said, ‘They sent me a letter. Said I’d not paid the rent properly – I don’t understand it. Lots of papers. I went to the solicitor, of course, and he did what he could. But it was all something Simmy had done. He’d made things happen so that I made the mistakes, you see, when I paid and all that – there was nothing I could do. I had to sign papers and everything so there it is. And they said I’d be left to run the shop as long as I wanted but then last week another letter came and said I had to go today, they were locking up the place. So –’ He looked at her and his eyes were dull and miserable. ‘I just went to bed. But when it was you calling, I –’ He smiled shakily. ‘It’s all right talking to you. Not like Simmy. My nephew Simmy.’
‘Oh, Mucky,’ she said. There was nothing she could say. ‘Oh, Mucky, I am sorry. I can’t imagine the Yard without you.’
‘Neither can I.’
Again there was silence and then she said carefully, ‘Has anyone told you why? I mean, why the place has to be shut?’
‘Developers,’ Mucky said. That’s what it is. I asked the solicitor but he didn’t know and I asked some of the customers and they didn’t, but one of them said ask Joe Davriosh, he knows everything, so I did. And he knew – it was him who had to close the shop up, he told me. For developers.’
‘Which developers?’ she asked urgently and he shook his head.
‘I don’t know. I don’t care any more. It’s all so –’ He set down his now empty mug. ‘All such a mess. I’m going back to bed.’
‘Mucky, you can’t,’ she said. ‘I mean, if they’re going to board the place up –’
‘They can board me up too,’ he said mulishly. ‘I don’t care any more. It’s a judgement on us, I suppose. A judgement.’ He lifted his chin then and looked at her and for the first time there was a spark of something more than defeat in him.
‘Why did you come?’ he said suddenly after a long pause. ‘Why are you here?’
She blinked at him, and felt a little stab of fear; was he losing his mind? Was all this unsettling him, making him talk nonsense?
‘Mucky, I told you! I saw the men and –’
He shook his head impatiently. ‘No, I mean, why are you helping me? Why are you concerned?’
‘Because you’re Mucky! I’ve known you all my life!’ she said. ‘You’re my neighbour. Part of my life –’
‘Of course you are!’ He was quite different suddenly, sitting up very straight. ‘Part of your life, part of my life, of course you are! Oh, I should have thought about it sooner! Oh, I’ll show him. I’ll show him what he’s done! He thinks he’ll get it all, doesn’t he? He thinks I’ll just die and disappear and leave him sitting on heaps of – Oh, I’ll show him. It’s a judgement on us but it’s most of all on him!’
She stared at him, bewildered. ‘Mucky, what are you talking about?’
‘I owe it to you, you see. Your grandfather Istvan, you see. It’s through him, I owe it to you!’
The bewilderment grew. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Mucky. Istvan? He was my great uncle, not my grandfather and anyway –�
��
He waved one hand airily. It was incredible to see how he had changed, how alert and alive he was. He was just as Mucky always had been, though untidy in a way he normally never was. ‘Grandfather, uncle, mother, aunt, it’s all the same after so many years. But debts have to be paid and the right thing has to be done for a family. So I’ll do it. And Simmy, my nephew Simmy, my sister’s boy Simmy –’ And be began to laugh, loudly, hiccupping and coughing and then laughing again, until she was alarmed and thought he would choke himself.
She leaned over and thumped his back and he regained his control and sat there and beamed at her, his eyes alight with the tears of his coughing, but something more besides. ‘It’s time anyway. I could have died behind this counter, couldn’t I? But why should I do that? I’ll go back to Monaco, they liked me there and I liked them. Not like France. And I’ll take enough to be right there, but there’s lots of it –’ He giggled shrilly. ‘The rest of it goes to you. To Halascz’s, where it ought to be, here in Little Vinegar Yard just where it ought to be –’ And he wrapped his thin arms around his even thinner chest and rocked to and fro, laughing again, but more softly this time.
‘I’ll going to get you to the doctor, Mucky,’ Laura said decisively and got to her feet. ‘All this has upset you too much. Come on now, you get dressed and I’ll take you along to see the doctor –’
‘I don’t need any doctor,’ he said. ‘Just the solicitor, to make it all right. Oh, I’ll show him, that Simmy. I’ll show him he can shut up the shop but it won’t do him a ha’porth of good, not a ha’porth! I’ll show him!’ But he didn’t argue when she urged him towards the staircase and his room with firm instructions to dress.
She stood in the shop listening to him move around above her head and looked round at it. Small and beautiful and old; a lovely place and it had to go and she felt the same anger that had filled her when she had heard of the attempt to spoil her restaurant. Not as powerfully, perhaps, but still it was there. Who were these hateful anonymous people these developers as they called themselves who could come and destroy such things as this shop, her restaurant, just for the sake of money? Who were they? How dare they do it? They couldn’t be allowed to, they couldn’t –
The stairs creaked and Mucky reappeared and it was as though the last half hour hadn’t happened. He was dressed as neatly as he always was, with his spats smooth over his ankles and his hat carefully brushed, and he smiled at her as she turned to look at him.
‘I’m sorry if I upset you, my dear,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t quite myself. But I’m all right now. Where are these men? The ones who’ve come to board up?’
‘In my kitchen.’ She stared at him, puzzled. Had she imagined the way he had been before? He had never looked more normal, more in control of himself.
He nodded. ‘I’ll talk to them. Send ’em away till this afternoon. It won’t take me long to pack my few bits. The bits I want. The rest can stay here, for my part. And I’ll go back to Monaco. Yes, back to Monaco.’ And he beamed at her. ‘I toed and froed before, but I can do more toing and not so much froing if I’m there all the time. You see if I don’t. You’ll have to come and visit me, my dear. I’ll get a little flat perhaps. That’ll be fun. And the sun will be nice –’
‘But, Mucky –’
‘No, my dear, don’t you worry. I’ll see the solicitor this afternoon, sort it all out and be on my way. There’ll be no problems, you’ll see. It’s the only right thing to do. I know that now. The right thing to do.’ And he positively beamed at her.
‘I wish I understood what all this is about Mucky. One minute you’re so miserable and the next – I don’t understand.’
‘You will, you will! It’ll all be explained, but not now. I’ve got a lot to do right now,’ and he hurried her out of the shop and went bustling across the Yard and she followed him as he made his way through the restaurant to the kitchen.
The men were dubious until he had pushed a five pound note into their hands and they agreed with alacrity to come back next morning and went off whistling and Mucky smiled at Laura and nodded and went out after them. And she didn’t say a word to stop him. There seemed no point since she couldn’t work out what it was that the old man was talking about. But, she told herself, I can find out. I’ll call Joel. That’s what I’ll do. If anyone can find out what’s going on he can. And it seemed the most natural thing in the world to turn to him.
32
At four o’clock, when they were clear of the last lunchers, she phoned again. Ever since the letter had been pushed into her hand just before one o’clock by a bored secretary who was obviously affronted at having to act as a messenger, she had been bursting to talk to him, but it had been impossible to steal so much as a moment, for as well as the usual full restaurant, two of the Extras were in use today. But now at last they were all gone, and the kitchen was quiet and she could perch at her small desk and dial his number.
‘I’m not nagging,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I know you said you’d come as soon as you could, but the most amazing thing has happened. I don’t believe it, actually. It’s all so incredible – please, can you get here any sooner than you said this morning that you could? I need to – I could do with some advice before the end of office hours. I may need to talk to this solicitor, you see – hmm? No – not mine, Mucky’s. He sent me this amazing letter and – oh, I’m sorry, Joel, I don’t mean to sound such an ass, but it’s totally incredible, it really is. So, please, can you come sooner and – bless you. I’ll be waiting.’ And she hung up the phone and sat and stared at the window until she could control her impatience no longer and ran to the door.
She walked up and down outside in the Yard trying to burn up her restless anxiety. Mucky’s shop stood still and silent on the other side, the blind still drawn on the door, and she watched as one or two people came and tried to push it open, and then peer in and, disappointed, went away, and tried to imagine how it would be when the shop was gone. And couldn’t. And tried to make sense of what had been in the letter and couldn’t do that either, catching her breath at the thought of it. It was all too much to take in.
He came into the Yard through the Frith Street arch and she stood and looked at him, at the loping walk and the way he kept his hands shoved deep in his trouser pockets so that his jacket was bunched up behind him and felt a great wash of relief, and almost ran towards him. And then stopped, embarrassed at her childishness. She really had to stop being so silly; bad enough she’d made a fool of herself over Cord. No need to go head first into making herself a double fool with this man. He was friendly, he was sympathetic, he was helpful, but still a man and for a brief moment she wished she hadn’t sent for him to help her. And then, as he smiled and tilted his head enquiringly, she forgot her misgivings and held out the letter to him.
‘Tell me what that says to you,’ she said. ‘I want to be sure I’m not imagining it.’
He took it from her and stood there reading it and she looked at his bent head and the way the wind lifted the curly hair on the crown and thought – nice man. Alex was right. Nice man –
‘Bosquet,’ he said after he had finished reading and looked across the Yard to the tobacconist’s shop. ‘That Bosquet?’
She nodded. ‘Mucky.’
‘He wants to give you money, this solicitor says, as a gift?’
She nodded. ‘That stuff about death duties –’
‘Yes, that makes sense.’ He looked at the letter again. ‘Plenty of people do that for their children. Give them money while they’re still alive so that the children don’t have to pay vast sums in death duties after they’re dead. But you’re not one of Mucky’s children.’
‘Exactly. It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.’
He grinned at her and held out the letter to her. ‘Crazy or not, it’s great. It’s a lot of money.’
‘It’s an incredible amount! Twenty thousand pounds, he says. That’ll cover the work in the kitchen and improve my overdraft – and –�
�� She bit her lip. ‘That’s what’s troubling me, I mean. I need it so much that I’m tempted to take it. And I don’t see how I can.’
‘Why not?’
‘Why – do be reasonable, Joel! How can I? Why should I take an old man’s money, just like that? He must have gone mad – how can I?’ She looked down at the letter again. ‘Mind you, if the solicitor thought it wrong he wouldn’t let him do it, would he? I mean if he really wasn’t – what’s the phrase they use? Of sound mind and body –’
‘Something like that. Have you talked to the solicitor?’
‘No. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I mean, he says he has instructions from Mucky to talk to me, if I want to. But I need to make a decision first. Do I take it or not?’
‘What are the special circumstances?’
‘Mmm?’
‘The letter. It says the gift is due to the special circumstances of your situations. What does that mean?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m totally mystified. I don’t know any special circumstances. Except that we’re neighbours and always have been. He knew my family before me – we’ve always been close. The only two families in the Yard, you see. It was natural.’
‘Then maybe it’s natural he should give you this money.’
‘It can’t be. He’s got his own family. His nephew.’
‘But from what you said when you phoned this morning, Simmy’s the cause of the whole problem –’ And he looked over his shoulder at the blank faced shop, standing there with its blind down so that it looked like a sightless man.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, he’s very angry with Simmy. Maybe he’s dong this to pay him out? Rather over the top though, isn’t it? To give money to a stranger to punish a relation –’
‘Not a stranger,’ he said. ‘You’re as close as family in some ways, aren’t you?’ He laughed then. ‘Forgive me if I sound selfishly interested in my own affairs, but I can’t tell you what this means to me for my film. I set out to look at the sense of community here, at the way families interlink and now, look at this! How interlinked can you get? It’s really amazing.’
Lunching at Laura's Page 32
