Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
‘If we get the rental car at nine tomorrow, at what time can we be in the bathtub?’
‘It’s a four-hour drive, but I was hoping to make a few stops along the coast.’
Charles frowns. ‘I didn’t sign up for that.’
Loris smiles and drops his arm from around Charles’ shoulders as they pass underneath a street lamp. A woman is staring at them from the opposite pavement.
‘The weather’s gonna be crap on Sunday, we can stay indoors then.’
Charles tugs Loris back closer, not caring one bit about his neighbour and what she could report to his parents. ‘Fine. But I want to make out near a cliff edge.’
‘Near a cliff edge?’
‘Yes, close enough to— Damn it.’
Charles sighs and gestures at the obvious signs of life in his house to answer Loris’ questioning look.
‘Maybe it’s Clare?’
‘Not in my father’s study, no.’
Charles opens the gate, his cliff scenario receding.
Why do his parents send him the schedule of events they would like him to attend with them if they don’t stick to it?
‘You want me to wait outside?’
‘You’d freeze to death. I’m terrible at packing, I might need three hours. No, it’s fine. He’s probably busy working, and I’ve been in his good graces since he had lunch with my boss. As for my dear mother, she’s elected to avoid conversations after my breakup with Elsy.’
‘But if anyone asks, I’m here for art reasons?’
‘Yes. I’d enjoy seeing their faces if they knew what we did in their bathtub, but not on the eve of our weekend.’
‘Agreed. So, what’s your plan for my next exhibition, manager?’
‘Let’s see… Perhaps an immersive experience for your fans,’ Charles suggests as they walk into the house. ‘In an unconventional location. Like a brewery.’
‘What fans?’
‘Play along. Imagine a—’
‘Charles!’
‘Right… He’s not that busy.’ Charles displays his puppet smile and turns towards the study, whose door has flown open. ‘Hello. You’re here? I thought…’
He reflexively reaches for the pen he won’t find in his coat pocket. He’s learnt to pair the forerunners of Milton storms with how hard they will hit, and his father’s current expression presages a violent one.
‘Do you… Do you remember Loris?’
‘Tell him to leave my house.’
Milton makes his way across the entrance hall without giving them a single look.
Charles scoffs at this record level of disdain. ‘This is rude!’
‘Follow me. Now.’
‘No, thank you, I’ll—’
‘Now, Charles!’
Milton disappears into the lounge, leaving them swathed in the hostile echo of the command he just barked.
‘Okay, let’s go.’ Loris places his hand onto Charles’ arm. ‘I can lend you some clothes for the weekend. Or quickly wash those you left at my place.’
Charles peeks at the next room, where his father must be convinced that he will join him, roll over and stammer an apology for whatever offence he’s guilty of.
And it’s tempting to leave him high and dry, to elope with Loris, whose tense and protective energy is fuelling new cliff scenarios.
But Charles doesn’t need protection. He’s not scared.
He’s mad, and he would turn furious if he let the prospect of Milton lashing out hang over their getaway.
‘I’d rather deal with it tonight. You can go wait in my room.’
‘No way!’
‘I’ll be alright.’ Charles closes Loris’ hand around his set of keys. ‘I won’t give him any power. Unless you’re here, because the way he’d treat you would get to me. Please.’
Loris’ eyes are shining with alarm, but he yields with a resigned nod.
Charles caresses his cheek. ‘You can search my wardrobes and pick the outfits you’d like to rip—’
‘Charles!’
‘Charles!’
‘—off me… What?’
Milton has shouted the loudest, but Charles faces Alice, who’s just emerged from the opposite wing. She’s short-winded, as if she barrelled across the house after hearing her husband’s booming voice, but she’s now shock-still, goggling at them.
‘What?’ Charles runs his fingers along Loris’ jawline. ‘If you could make it quick, I’m being summoned to the fireplace.’
This information pulls Alice out of her torpor. Her crazed gaze leaves Charles’ hand just as it brushes Loris’ neck, and she slips on a mask where panic and acute disapproval are fighting a fierce battle.
‘You said that you wouldn’t engage, Charles. You were supposed to reflect and—’
‘And you were supposed to protect and support me, so let’s settle for mutual disappointment.’
Charles tilts his head towards the staircase – with an assured smile that doesn’t appease Loris’ tension – and turns around to pass under the arch leading to the lion’s den.
‘Alright, why are you beside yourself?’
‘Watch your tone!’
Milton is standing in the corner of the lounge where flames would cast forbidding glimmers on his face if a wood fire were burning.
But tonight, his visual tactic hinges on the brass wall lights, which is less overawing.
He hasn’t set the scene, probably not expecting Charles to show up on a Friday evening.
Was he going to simmer for days in his study, waiting for the front door to open? Or was he planning to contact Charles and order him to come home?
Back in the day, Milton always thundered on his own terms, picking moments when Fred wasn’t on his guard. But Fred gave him plenty of opportunities to do so, returning to this house way more often than Charles has lately.
‘I received a phone call from Paul Stourton this afternoon.’
So the outrage is recent. That explains why Alice didn’t have time to prevent a crisis over it and looks so out of her depth as she joins Milton.
It’s a shame Charles didn’t come back to pack yesterday, before the drama occurred. He could have ignored her convoking messages. Or he would have replied with photos of cliffs.
With photos of Loris in front of cliffs.
‘Are you listening to me?’
‘Yes, Paul called. I’m pleased. Who’s Paul?’
‘A board member of the business school you seem to believe you won’t go to next year.’
‘Oh… Oh, I see.’
This grapevine works shockingly slow. Charles emailed the school a week ago. He had almost forgotten that this official step would have repercussions.
‘I told him to immediately suspend the withdrawal procedure.’
‘I wish you hadn’t done that. It’ll be a silly look when I contact them again to confirm that I’m…
Hold on. Are you for real, Mother? You believe I’m doing this to engage?
You believe my decision is about you two?
Incredible. You’re thinking so highly of yourself, it’s a miracle you’re not suffering from vertigo. ’
‘Wipe the smugness off your face!’
Milton doesn’t move an inch, but Alice places a firm hand on his shoulder as a precaution.
‘What is going on with you, Charles?’ she asks, shaking her head. ‘I understand your issues with Elsy must be confusing, but the solution is not to disrupt your entire—’
‘Really? Didn’t you read the room in the hall just now?
And does it have to be about someone else?
Can’t I make a choice by myself, for myself and from the best place I’ve been in years?
Because in case it matters to you, I’m doing good, regardless of everything you advised me to “curb”.
I’m doing really well. But I don’t want to take an MBA, therefore I won’t. ’
‘And what do you picture yourself doing in this fantasy world you have built?’
Charles clenches his fists, triggered by his father’s scorn despite his efforts to remain unruffled. ‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know?’
‘I’ll work at the firm until the end of July, like I told Clifford I would.
Because his expectations have always taken my wellbeing into consideration, and that deserves to be respected.
Then I’ll go on holiday with my friends, but after that…
I have options. I might move abroad for a year, to explore some of my passions. Perhaps in Italy.’
‘That is something else. How would you provide for yourself?’
‘My Italian is good enough, I could find an odd job. Tutor kids who need to improve their English. Or work at a restaurant, if they teach me how to carry a tray.’
Alice gasps, her hand landing flat onto her chest. ‘Are you hearing yourself?’
‘Yes, and it all sounds very exciting.’
‘Enough.’ Now free from his wife’s grip, Milton moves forwards, losing all traces of feigned interest. ‘Here’s what is going to happen. You will—’
‘I’ll tell you what’s going to happen.’ Charles takes a step in his father’s direction, which makes him stop abruptly.
‘I will go up to my room now, because I have to pack. I’m going away until Monday.
That gives you three days to understand that there’s nothing you can do or threaten to do about my decision.
Nothing! And so, while I’m gone, you can…
burn my stuff, or change the locks, I don’t care.
If you’d rather lose me too than grow a late parental streak, I’ll survive.
I’ll actually be better off than you in the long run. But you could also—’
‘You little—’
‘How dare—’
‘I’m not done! But you could also use these three days to decide to support me in— I know, Father, it must seem a little crazy in the fantasy world you’ve built, but hear me out!
I’m not ungrateful, as I’m sure that’s what you’re thinking.
I’m not, alright? I’m aware of everything I owe you for and…
and that I wouldn’t have many options otherwise.
I know. And you… You’ve done things I’ll struggle to get over, but you’re my parents.
I’d prefer to remain a son and find it in me to support you in the future.
But I won’t sacrifice my sanity and my desires to repay you. Or to get back at you for that matter.’
Charles inhales deeply. His heartbeat is more erratic than he would like, but he doesn’t hunch or look away from his parents’ faces.
There’s not much to decipher on Milton’s. Even his eyes have gone inexpressive. As for Alice, she’s swapping masks every second, which makes her equally impossible to read.
‘Are you done now?’ Milton finally asks, his tone chilly enough to blow out a wood fire.