hisfather’s head was still shaved, a wispy sprout of grey hair, some three inches long, was growing from the point of his head. It gave him the appearance of a radish.
‘I’m going into a spiritual retreat,’ replied Chay, smiling his holy smile.
‘A retreat? Where?’
‘The West Coast.’
‘Which West Coast? Wales? Can I have a cup of tea?’ Anthony headed towards the kitchen. After rummaging around, he could find only a box of ginseng and a packet of peppermint tea. He sighed, looked in the fridge, found a bottle of Aqua Libra and poured some into a cup. There were no glasses.
‘California,’ explained Chay. ‘It’s called the San Fernando Holistic Outreach Centre. It’s a spiritual community of individuals seeking tranquillity and oneness with their own creativity and with God, whatever and wherever he may be. It’s a concaulescence of souls. People concentrate on art, and on prayer.’ Chay smiled kindly at Anthony.
‘Sounds like a good holiday,’ said Anthony. ‘How much is it costing you?’ Chay’s smile shortened a little.
‘Two thousand dollars for six weeks. But it’s an investment. I look upon it as a means of getting in touch with my other self. I need to relate to myself, my feelings, to find out where I’m coming from in my art.’
‘That’s great, Dad,’ interrupted Anthony, fearful that his father could go on indefinitely in this vein, unless stopped. ‘But what’s all the bit about God? I thought you were an atheist these days?’
Chay seated himself uneasily in the lotus position on alarge beanbag; his ankles were thin and unpleasantly pale.
‘It’s a mistake for anyone to commit themselves to such a state of certainty,’ he replied. ‘Which of us knows anything? What do you know, Anthony? What can you honestly and truly, searching in your heart, say that you
know
?’
‘What I know is that you’re off on an expensive jaunt in the Californian sunshine. Anyway, if you’re so uncertain about God, you should become an agnostic.’
‘I’m seeking for a means to legitimise myself, my existence,’ replied Chay blandly.
‘Well,’ said Anthony, not knowing how to counter this, ‘what do you want me for?’
‘All this,’ replied Chay, gesturing in the direction of his futon, his paintings, and the few other articles of furniture in the room, ‘needs to be stored somewhere. This flat is very vulnerable, and there’s no knowing how long I may be gone.’
‘I thought you said it only lasted six weeks? Anyway, where do you expect me to put it? Mum’s got no room.’
‘You must be able to find somewhere. You’ve got friends.’
Why do I get lumbered? Anthony wondered. Why can’t I just say no? I’ll have to. There’s nowhere—Then he remembered Bridget. Her flatmate was leaving any day now. She’d have a bit of space. He looked at his father and wondered how his new and lunatic ventures were spawned. He also wondered where Chay had got two thousand dollars from.
‘Where’s Jocasta?’ he asked.
‘She’s gone ahead. I’m sending some things to her.’
So that’s who’s paying, thought Anthony. Silly woman. He sighed.
‘I’ll see what I can do. When are you going?’
‘In a couple of weeks, or so. Plenty of time for you to find somewhere. It’s only my few humble bits and pieces – you know how I believe that the spirit becomes encumbered by too many earthly possessions.’
‘Don’t I just,’ murmured Anthony, and went through to the kitchen to pour the remains of his Aqua Libra into the sink. He came back through. ‘Look, I can’t promise anything, but I’ll be in touch. See you, Dad.’
‘Don’t call me that,’ Chay called after him.
At home, Anthony made himself a cheese and tomato sandwich and some coffee and sat down at the kitchen table to go through Edward’s papers. It took him only half an hour to rough out the work that Leo had asked Edward to do. Surely Edward wasn’t so thick that he couldn’t polish it up a bit
‘I’m going into a spiritual retreat,’ replied Chay, smiling his holy smile.
‘A retreat? Where?’
‘The West Coast.’
‘Which West Coast? Wales? Can I have a cup of tea?’ Anthony headed towards the kitchen. After rummaging around, he could find only a box of ginseng and a packet of peppermint tea. He sighed, looked in the fridge, found a bottle of Aqua Libra and poured some into a cup. There were no glasses.
‘California,’ explained Chay. ‘It’s called the San Fernando Holistic Outreach Centre. It’s a spiritual community of individuals seeking tranquillity and oneness with their own creativity and with God, whatever and wherever he may be. It’s a concaulescence of souls. People concentrate on art, and on prayer.’ Chay smiled kindly at Anthony.
‘Sounds like a good holiday,’ said Anthony. ‘How much is it costing you?’ Chay’s smile shortened a little.
‘Two thousand dollars for six weeks. But it’s an investment. I look upon it as a means of getting in touch with my other self. I need to relate to myself, my feelings, to find out where I’m coming from in my art.’
‘That’s great, Dad,’ interrupted Anthony, fearful that his father could go on indefinitely in this vein, unless stopped. ‘But what’s all the bit about God? I thought you were an atheist these days?’
Chay seated himself uneasily in the lotus position on alarge beanbag; his ankles were thin and unpleasantly pale.
‘It’s a mistake for anyone to commit themselves to such a state of certainty,’ he replied. ‘Which of us knows anything? What do you know, Anthony? What can you honestly and truly, searching in your heart, say that you
know
?’
‘What I know is that you’re off on an expensive jaunt in the Californian sunshine. Anyway, if you’re so uncertain about God, you should become an agnostic.’
‘I’m seeking for a means to legitimise myself, my existence,’ replied Chay blandly.
‘Well,’ said Anthony, not knowing how to counter this, ‘what do you want me for?’
‘All this,’ replied Chay, gesturing in the direction of his futon, his paintings, and the few other articles of furniture in the room, ‘needs to be stored somewhere. This flat is very vulnerable, and there’s no knowing how long I may be gone.’
‘I thought you said it only lasted six weeks? Anyway, where do you expect me to put it? Mum’s got no room.’
‘You must be able to find somewhere. You’ve got friends.’
Why do I get lumbered? Anthony wondered. Why can’t I just say no? I’ll have to. There’s nowhere—Then he remembered Bridget. Her flatmate was leaving any day now. She’d have a bit of space. He looked at his father and wondered how his new and lunatic ventures were spawned. He also wondered where Chay had got two thousand dollars from.
‘Where’s Jocasta?’ he asked.
‘She’s gone ahead. I’m sending some things to her.’
So that’s who’s paying, thought Anthony. Silly woman. He sighed.
‘I’ll see what I can do. When are you going?’
‘In a couple of weeks, or so. Plenty of time for you to find somewhere. It’s only my few humble bits and pieces – you know how I believe that the spirit becomes encumbered by too many earthly possessions.’
‘Don’t I just,’ murmured Anthony, and went through to the kitchen to pour the remains of his Aqua Libra into the sink. He came back through. ‘Look, I can’t promise anything, but I’ll be in touch. See you, Dad.’
‘Don’t call me that,’ Chay called after him.
At home, Anthony made himself a cheese and tomato sandwich and some coffee and sat down at the kitchen table to go through Edward’s papers. It took him only half an hour to rough out the work that Leo had asked Edward to do. Surely Edward wasn’t so thick that he couldn’t polish it up a bit
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