Theo

by Amanda Prowse

  ‘So, about the job...’ Theo coughed and brought the meeting back on track.

  ‘Oh God, I’d almost forgotten why I’m here. Excuse me while I switch into professional mode.’ Wilson sat up straight and adjusted his jacket lapels. ‘I have a lot of experience on projects like this. Last year I worked on a similar build in Hereford – vast industrial barn conversions that were made into holiday studios, but a similar principle. I control budgets, oversee materials, the whole shebang.’

  Theo cast his eyes over Wilson’s CV and tried to think of an appropriate question.

  *

  He drove down the M4 with a peculiar feeling of peace. Seeing Magnus Wilson had helped draw a line under the years of persecution and given him greater insight as to why things had happened as they did. It wasn’t that he forgave Wilson, not at all, but he came away from their encounter with a better understanding, and he hoped to build on that foundation. He smiled at the metaphor, then put in a call to Jody.

  ‘Evening, boss, you heading back to London?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve got the bank meeting tomorrow and I need to do a few personal things. I’ll let you know how it goes.’

  ‘Does this mean we can guarantee my pay for the next few months?’

  ‘Yes, if the loan gets approved. Otherwise I shall give you a glowing reference for whoever is lucky enough to employ you next!’

  ‘You are too kind,’ she said. ‘How did it go today?’

  ‘It was good, actually.’

  ‘Have you made a decision?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I have.’ He smiled. ‘And assuming we get the funding, we are good to go. Can you get me Phil Marshall’s number.’

  Night fell as he reached Barnes. Heading there had been a spur-of-the-moment decision as he’d hit London. A quick drive past his house had revealed nothing. The hall lamp was on, but the curtains were drawn. He’d hoped to see Anna in the street, on her way home or walking Griff, and in his mind he’d played out how he might make their meeting look casual, but she was nowhere to be seen. He decided to pop in and see his parents. He hadn’t spoken to his mother since his resignation and he wanted to smooth things with her at least.

  He parked up, rapped on the door and waited while his parents flicked on the various lights and slid the many bolts to allow him entry.

  ‘Theo! Is everything okay?’ His mother gripped the thick shawl at her neck. Her immediate concern indicated that their angry call was now at the back of her mind and he was thankful.

  ‘Yes, just thought I’d pop in and see you.’ He walked forward and grazed her cheek with a kiss.

  ‘Well, this is most unexpected!’ She smiled nonetheless and ushered him into the sitting room, shuffling a little in her slippers.

  ‘Theo, is everything okay?’ His father roused himself from his chair; he had clearly been dozing. There was no particular animosity in his tone, nothing to indicate that this was their first meeting since the damaging encounter in the boardroom at Villiers House.

  ‘Yes, I was just passing. Well, kind of.’ He sat on the sofa.

  His father stared at him quizzically. ‘How’s the Bristol thing doing?’ He reached for his glasses and rested them on his bulbous nose.

  ‘Good. So much red tape.’ He nodded, wanting to give only the minimum of detail, which was as much as his father deserved. He noted the change to his father’s once athletic frame, the slight bowing under the extra weight. His mother, in contrast, had lost the curves that had apparently so enraptured his peers and was now reed thin. Theo recalled the way Wilson had admired her. He yawned and rubbed his face; it had been quite a day.

  ‘Daddy and I were just having cocoa, darling. Here’s yours.’ His mum handed him a mug.

  ‘Thanks.’ He took it gratefully between his palms. ‘I was in Bristol today, interviewing. I met up with an Old Vaizey Boy – he was on the shortlist for the position of site manager. Magnus Wilson?’

  ‘Magnus Wilson,’ his mum repeated, tapping her mouth with her finger. ‘That name rings a bell for some reason.’

  ‘Was he a Theobald’s boy?’ his father asked, loudly.

  ‘Naturally, Dad. Theobald’s through and through.’

  His father’s face split into a grin of pure joy and he clapped his hands. ‘Well, good for you, Theo! Good for you! How was he?’

  ‘Good. Yes, good, I think.’

  His father sat forward in the chair. ‘It’s wonderful to share those memories, isn’t it? A unique experience, I’ve always found, and it binds you for life.’

  ‘Yes, I would have to agree.’ Theo smiled ironically and sipped his cocoa, knowing he would always be mystified by the esteem in which his dad held the place. It had felt so important to share the news with his father, but at the same time he hated that at some level he still sought his approval and, worse, that it was all wrapped up in that bloody school. ‘I have a meeting with the bank tomorrow, to sort a business loan, funding for the renovation and so forth. Fingers crossed.’ He remembered his conversation with Jody and sincerely hoped he wasn’t going to have to let her go.

  ‘You don’t need a loan, darling – you’re still a shareholder of Montgomery’s and you can use company money.’ His mother spoke matter-of-factly.

  ‘I...’ He looked at his father – this hadn’t occurred to him. He wasn’t sure but thought there might have been a flash of something like regret in his dad’s eyes.

  ‘Your mother is right. Loans cost money. That’s just basic, boy. Don’t borrow if you don’t have to. Speak to Marcus, he can go through the funding. And you should take offices at Villiers House too, and claim your start-up costs, that makes it tax-efficient. Have you considered registering as a charity? There are tax breaks to be had there too, means you’ll have more to plough back in where it’s needed.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He meant it, sincerely.

  ‘Don’t thank me! It’s not a case of thanks, it’s a matter of birthright!’ his father boomed.

  And right there and then, the moment seemed appropriate. ‘There’s something I’d like to tell you.’

  His mother peered over the rim of her glasses. ‘Are you referring to the fact that you have been lodging elsewhere?’

  ‘I wasn’t, actually, but you’ve heard that Anna and I are taking a break?’ He didn’t know how else to phrase it.

  ‘Oh yes, dear. I mean, it’s none of our business, of course, but gossip spreads like wildfire in Barnes.’

  Theo bit his tongue, knowing it spread like wildfire because she liked to set the kindling and apply a match. ‘Yes, well, we’re apart right now, regretfully, but we’ll see.’ He sipped his cocoa, a taste that took him back to childhood, to school. ‘As I say, that wasn’t what I was referring to.’

  ‘Oh?’ He had her interest.

  He took a deep breath. ‘The reason I fell apart in my last year at university was not because I was being lazy or partying too hard – it was because I was depressed.’

  ‘I think we rather gathered that.’ She sniffed.

  ‘Yes, but maybe not the reason why.’ He paused. ‘I fathered a child. I have a child, a little girl.’

  His mother gave a gasp and slopped her cocoa onto the arm of the chair. His father remained unnaturally still, alert, waiting to hear more.

  ‘She’s not so little now,’ Theo continued, keeping his gaze on his mug. ‘I’m not in her life, but Anna knows, and I don’t really know why but I wanted to tell you. It felt important. No more secrets.’ He caught his father’s eye.

  ‘A granddaughter?’ his mother asked with a wistful air. She placed her cocoa on the table by her chair and reached for her handkerchief. ‘And does the child have a name?’

  Theo nodded. ‘Her name is Sophie.’

  ‘Sophie,’ his mum repeated, taking the corner of her handkerchief to blot whatever was in her eye.

  His father picked up the remote control and turned up the news.

  After saying goodbye to his parents, Theo grabbed his briefcase and checked into the local pub,
where the rooms were overheated and the floors creaky. His phone buzzed.

  ‘Hey, mate.’

  ‘Hey! You home?’ He tried to picture Spud’s whereabouts.

  ‘Nearly, thank God. How did it go?’

  Theo smiled, knowing that Spud had probably spent most of his day envisaging Theo’s great showdown with the school bully. ‘Better than I thought it would, actually.’

  ‘Did you punch him over the desk? Kick his shins? Nick his lunch money?’

  ‘No!’ Theo laughed. ‘You’ve been watching too many of Miyu’s cartoons.’

  ‘You might be right.’ Spud sighed.

  ‘It was weird. I got really worked up before he arrived, I was nervous, but I don’t think I would have recognised him, to be truthful. I realised that the boy I pictured doesn’t exist, not any more – and he hasn’t for years. If anything, he looked—’

  ‘Looked what?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Theo huffed. ‘Ordinary. Not like someone that would pose a great threat or be the total bastard that he was as a kid.’

  ‘Well, people can and do change.’

  ‘Some, yes. If anything, I felt quite sorry for him.’

  ‘Bloody hell! You did?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘And did he recognise you?’

  Theo recalled the way Wilson had eyed him over their handshake. ‘Yes, almost instantly, and he wasn’t embarrassed or overly contrite. I think his memories have a different filter. He made the whole school thing and his behaviour sound like they were par for the course, and I realised that for him they might well have been. I don’t think he had the easiest time as a child, but for very different reasons to me.’

  ‘So what did you do, send him packing? Spit in his eye?’

  ‘Actually, no.’ Theo loosened his collar and spun his keys on his finger. ‘I chatted to him civilly. Not a punch was thrown.’

  ‘You were civil?’

  ‘Better than that – I was almost chummy.’ He closed his eyes and held the phone away from his ear while Spud laughed loudly, as if this was the punchline he’d been waiting for.

  ‘I’m proud of you, Theo.’

  ‘Thanks. You don’t think I’m a mug for not challenging him more?’

  Spud’s laughter again filled the gap between the oceans.

  ‘What are you laughing at?’ Theo asked.

  ‘Oh, mate, I am sitting in a cab, it’s late afternoon, traffic is horrendous and I have a mountain of work to do. I’ve got emails pinging in left, right and centre. And all I want is to be at home with a cup of coffee, but instead I’m heading to a toy shop because I promised Miyu a Sylvanian Families tree house and there wasn’t one at the airport, surprise, surprise. I’m on a mission to keep a promise when there are a million things I should and would rather be doing, and you ask if I think you are a mug? Still, the joys of parenthood, huh?’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Ah, shit, bad choice of words. How are things? Have you seen Anna?’ Spud adopted a softer tone.

  Theo opened the rickety sash window and looked up at the night sky, listening as a duck squawked and landed on the water. ‘No. I haven’t seen her. Did you ever wonder if you were accidentally living someone else’s life? You know, like when there’s a mix-up at the hospital and people get the wrong kid?’

  ‘No, I never felt like that.’

  There was a beat of silence while both waited for more. Neither took the lead.

  ‘I need to go, Spud, I need a leak. I’ll call you back later in the week.’

  ‘Okay, but what happened with the Wilson bloke? How did it end?’

  Theo took a deep breath and gave a small laugh. ‘I gave him a job.’

  18

  Theo had been living in the little flat in Bristol for six weeks. He kept it bare, wary of making it feel like home as that would have given it a permanence that he feared. There were no pictures on the walls, no crockery or cutlery in the cupboards and no landline. He preferred to treat it as he had the hotel not too far from the flat, nothing more than a base. Just until...

  It had been strange to wake up in his childhood home in Barnes that morning, and not for the first time in recent weeks he’d come to with a start, wondering where he was. He fastened the towel around his waist and stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

  The call from his mother the previous day had shocked him and the sense of disbelief hadn’t lessened. It was a strange time, a day he’d always known would come, but one he’d assumed would be far into the future, giving him a chance to mentally prepare. He could only imagine how Anna had coped, having had to deal with something similar when she’d been nothing more than a little girl. His heart flexed for her.

  He was yet to feel the sadness that he’d anticipated; right now he was simply exhausted by the weight of the news. He guessed this was shock. He felt floored, angry even, as his brain struggled to accept the finality. His nerves twitched and his limbs jumped, as though surprised. He felt cheated; he’d figured he’d have more time. At the back of his mind a fantasy had hovered for longer than he cared to admit. It was one where he and his father sat in front of a roaring fire, pints in hand, as they gave each other the floor and spoke openly about their clashes and their differences before hopefully arriving at a place that resembled calmer waters, if not understanding. He knew it was ridiculous – he was a grown man, and how many people reached his age without considering the inevitable loss of those they loved? But Theo had, as ever, felt in some way immune.

  There was so much he had yet to say to his dad, so many conversations started but not finished. Worst of all were the apologies that had danced around them over the years. Both men had failed to reach up and grasp the words, unable, for reasons deeper than he could fathom, to make peace. The wounds of their recent battle, where harsh and hurtful truths had been exchanged in the boardroom, had healed a little, but the skin that wrapped them was thin, new and still tender.

  And now it was too late. It was all too late.

  He stared at his reflection, wiping the steam from the mirror with his hand, and wondered what else was slipping beyond his reach faster than he realised.

  Two memories were proving especially hard to shift: his dad leering at Freddie from the bedroom window of La Grande Belle, and his dad trying to hide his anger when Theo had thrown up in his Aston Martin. Both events so long ago now and yet still stuck on replay in his head. Spud’s good words of advice came to him once more: ‘Let it go, let a lot of those memories go, the ones that trouble you.’

  If only it were that simple. He wished he could replace them with something more agreeable, like the Christmas morning from his childhood when he’d watched as his Dad tore open yet another pair of socks before throwing the packaging at his mum, who ducked and giggled, trying not to spill her breakfast Bellini. Or the time he’d spied the two of them through the crack of the kitchen door, dancing with each other, both in their pyjamas and neither with any clue that he was looking. But it was the negative memories that persisted. His father’s face livid: ‘The idiot!... What the fuck is wrong with him?’

  ‘It’s a good question. What is wrong with you?’ he asked the face that stared back. He jutted his chin and ran the back of his fingers over his neck and face, taking in the deepening furrows on his brow.

  He shaved, dressed slowly and made his way downstairs. The sound of Stella’s sniffing filled the air. He was ashamed at how much the noise grated his bones. It was more than he wanted to deal with. He resisted the urge to put the radio on and dilute the atmosphere with something, anything, unsure of the correct etiquette in this situation. He watched her make cups of tea as a distraction and wipe the sink and countertops with a bleached dishcloth, going over and over the same pristine surfaces, until, spent, she sat slumped. Her usual upright posture was bowed under the weight of her grief. She drew random shapes with her finger on the tabletop. She looked... She looked old.

  ‘Are you going to say something at the service?’ she event
ually managed, looking up. She blew her nose into a paper tissue and balled it into her handbag.

  ‘I hadn’t really thought about it. Would you like me to?’

  ‘Of course I’d like you to! It’s very important. And you have six days to think about exactly what.’ Her voice cracked, the sandpaper vowels rasping in a throat raw with distress. She resumed her invisible doodling.

  ‘Sure.’ He nodded. ‘If you think that’s a good idea.’

  She rolled her eyes, as if the answer should be evident. ‘And I think we should go and see him. Together.’ She stared at him, her eyes brimming.

  He felt the rise of nausea. ‘Do you... Do you think that’s wise, Mum?’

  Her reply was instant, her voice shrill. ‘It’s not about what’s wise, it’s about what’s right! I have to say goodbye to him. My husband, my darling husband...’

  ‘But you said goodbye to him at the hospital,’ he reminded her, keeping his tone neutral, ‘and he won’t know if you go and see his... his body or not.’ Saying the word ‘body’ felt both disrespectful and uncomfortable, reducing his father to a thing. A thing that was now gone. This thought hit him with force in the centre of his breastbone. ‘I just don’t want you to be upset by seeing him after he’s passed, that’s not how he would want you to remember him, and I don’t think it’s healthy that your last image of him might not be a pleasant one.’

  ‘I don’t get to choose, Theodore! I can’t help what I find, but I will do the right thing by him.’

  ‘But that’s just it, Mum, who says it’s the right thing? There is no right thing. There is only what’s right for you. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I just think—’

  ‘I don’t need to know what you think!’ Stella raised her voice. ‘Don’t be like him! Don’t tell me what to think or what I can or can’t do!’

  Theo took a deep breath. ‘I’m only trying to look out for you, Mum. Even though this is the worst possible thing that could have happened, try not to forget that we are both going through it and I am trying to make it the best it can be for you. Because I love you.’