you.'
'Well
something had to.'
'Does
it scare you?'
'Terrifies
me more like. Not the dying part, or the being dead. I don't think we go up in
front of Saint Paul with his big book of what we did right or wrong. Mind you,
if we do I'm destined for…' He held up his hand with the thumb down."… I
reckon you just go to sleep. Must be nice. I just hope you don't dream. Some of
my dreams…' He didn't finish the sentence. 'No. What frightens me is the pain
getting worse and not going away. Or even worse, dying alone. That's why I want
you here. You and Martine and Chas. As much of my family as there is left.'
Mark
felt tears sting his eyes again. 'You won't die alone, Uncle John.
Not
whilst we're around.' But he felt he was getting in too deep and changed the subject.
'So who does the cooking these days? Not you, I bet.'
'Chas
mostly.'
'Are
you kidding me?'
'Not
at all. When we're not out and about, which ain't often these days I'm afraid,
he's in front of the cooking channel on cable. He loves it.'
'What
about Martine?'
'Martine?
You're having a laugh, aincha? She can cook all right, just like her mum. When
she can be bothered, which ain't often. So all she does is wreck Chas's kitchen
and leaves him to clear up. He curses her out.'
'I bet
he does.'
'Anyway,
I heard him come back just now. I'll get him to knock up something. Now come
and see your room.'
They
got up out of their chairs and went hunting for Chas. As promised he was watching
a celebrity chef preparing a feast on a TV in the kitchen at the back of the
house. Since Mark had last been around it had been extended and modified and
looked like something out of a TV studio itself with a large central cooking
range and shiny copper saucepans hanging from chrome rails. 'I'm impressed,'
said Mark, looking round.
'So
you should be,' remarked Jenner. 'Cost me an arm, a dick and a leg, this lot.'
'Worth
it though, boss,' said Chas. 'Get you something?'
'Something
light.'
'No
worries,' and the huge man donned a stripy apron without sign of embarrassment
and peered into the mighty fridge that dominated one corner of the room.
'Nothing
for me thanks, Chas,' said Mark. 'I had so much at Tootsies I don't think I'll
ever eat again. There's leftovers in the hall by the way.'
'Just
wait 'til you smell my cooking and you'll regret it,' said Chas.
'We'll
be upstairs,' said Jenner and led the way back into the hall and up the main
staircase that Mark remembered so well from his youth. When they got to the
top, Mark hesitated outside the glossy white painted door.
'Go
on then,' said Jenner. 'Take a look.' 'It's been a long time.'
'You
keep saying that.'
'Because
it's true.' Then he grasped the handle, opened the door and stepped back a
dozen years.
The
room inside was just as he remembered it. A single bed with a duvet cover
decorated with the faces of Matt and Luke Goss, the twins in the teeny group
Bros, dark red carpet, dark red curtains open overlooking the back garden that
was salted with snow. Pop group posters on the walls, a small TV set, a record
player, and all along one wall, thousands of records, a legacy from his uncle.
'Bros,'
he said. 'What's all that about?'
'You
liked them.'
'No I
didn't. You bought me that to take the rise one Christmas and I wouldn't use
it.'
'Yeah,
OK. We stuck it on when you phoned.'
'You
knew I'd come back.'
'Sooner
or later.'
'You're
a manipulative old sod, you know that.'
'So
I've been told.'
Mark
walked over to the shelves. 'And your records. I thought they'd all be gone.'
'Never.
Some of them are worth fortunes.'
'I
know.' Mark turned to the older man and hugged him tight. 'Christ, Uncle John. What
happened to all those
'Well
something had to.'
'Does
it scare you?'
'Terrifies
me more like. Not the dying part, or the being dead. I don't think we go up in
front of Saint Paul with his big book of what we did right or wrong. Mind you,
if we do I'm destined for…' He held up his hand with the thumb down."… I
reckon you just go to sleep. Must be nice. I just hope you don't dream. Some of
my dreams…' He didn't finish the sentence. 'No. What frightens me is the pain
getting worse and not going away. Or even worse, dying alone. That's why I want
you here. You and Martine and Chas. As much of my family as there is left.'
Mark
felt tears sting his eyes again. 'You won't die alone, Uncle John.
Not
whilst we're around.' But he felt he was getting in too deep and changed the subject.
'So who does the cooking these days? Not you, I bet.'
'Chas
mostly.'
'Are
you kidding me?'
'Not
at all. When we're not out and about, which ain't often these days I'm afraid,
he's in front of the cooking channel on cable. He loves it.'
'What
about Martine?'
'Martine?
You're having a laugh, aincha? She can cook all right, just like her mum. When
she can be bothered, which ain't often. So all she does is wreck Chas's kitchen
and leaves him to clear up. He curses her out.'
'I bet
he does.'
'Anyway,
I heard him come back just now. I'll get him to knock up something. Now come
and see your room.'
They
got up out of their chairs and went hunting for Chas. As promised he was watching
a celebrity chef preparing a feast on a TV in the kitchen at the back of the
house. Since Mark had last been around it had been extended and modified and
looked like something out of a TV studio itself with a large central cooking
range and shiny copper saucepans hanging from chrome rails. 'I'm impressed,'
said Mark, looking round.
'So
you should be,' remarked Jenner. 'Cost me an arm, a dick and a leg, this lot.'
'Worth
it though, boss,' said Chas. 'Get you something?'
'Something
light.'
'No
worries,' and the huge man donned a stripy apron without sign of embarrassment
and peered into the mighty fridge that dominated one corner of the room.
'Nothing
for me thanks, Chas,' said Mark. 'I had so much at Tootsies I don't think I'll
ever eat again. There's leftovers in the hall by the way.'
'Just
wait 'til you smell my cooking and you'll regret it,' said Chas.
'We'll
be upstairs,' said Jenner and led the way back into the hall and up the main
staircase that Mark remembered so well from his youth. When they got to the
top, Mark hesitated outside the glossy white painted door.
'Go
on then,' said Jenner. 'Take a look.' 'It's been a long time.'
'You
keep saying that.'
'Because
it's true.' Then he grasped the handle, opened the door and stepped back a
dozen years.
The
room inside was just as he remembered it. A single bed with a duvet cover
decorated with the faces of Matt and Luke Goss, the twins in the teeny group
Bros, dark red carpet, dark red curtains open overlooking the back garden that
was salted with snow. Pop group posters on the walls, a small TV set, a record
player, and all along one wall, thousands of records, a legacy from his uncle.
'Bros,'
he said. 'What's all that about?'
'You
liked them.'
'No I
didn't. You bought me that to take the rise one Christmas and I wouldn't use
it.'
'Yeah,
OK. We stuck it on when you phoned.'
'You
knew I'd come back.'
'Sooner
or later.'
'You're
a manipulative old sod, you know that.'
'So
I've been told.'
Mark
walked over to the shelves. 'And your records. I thought they'd all be gone.'
'Never.
Some of them are worth fortunes.'
'I
know.' Mark turned to the older man and hugged him tight. 'Christ, Uncle John. What
happened to all those
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