Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Owen took one look at the patio table and grinned. “Wow.”
Callum had brought out a tray containing two cups and saucers, a milk jug, a sugar bowl, and a round fat tea pot hiding under a tea cosy covered in bees. He’d also added a plate of ginger cookies.
Matt smiled. “A mug would’ve done, honest.”
Owen called Callum’s name, and a moment later, he appeared at the window. Owen arched his eyebrows. “You outdid yourself. I didn’t even know I possessed a sugar bowl.”
Callum shrugged. “First impressions count, isn’t that what you always told me?
” He gave Matt a nod. “Make the most of it. After this, it’ll be a chipped mug if you’re working out here.
” He stilled. “Of course, I’m assuming you will be working here.
” He glanced at Owen, who nodded. Callum beamed.
“Great. That means I don’t have to worry about being drafted. ”
Owen snorted. “Do you have any practical skills, apart from being a whizz with electricity?”
“I’m good at emptying boxes, I’m told.” He heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “Which is what I’ll go back to doing, and leave you two to discuss how hard you’re going to make Matt work.”
“Don’t kid yourself. You love bringing order to this chaos,” Owen teased.
“Yeah, but it’s worth it. With you, once order is restored, it stays that way.” Callum gave Matt another nod. “Good to meet you. I expect I’ll be seeing you whenever I visit.”
“I think that’s likely.”
Owen waited until Callum had disappeared back into the house before pouring the tea. “I suppose I should’ve asked if you prefer coffee.”
“Tea’s fine.” Matt pointed to the far end of the garden. “What’s in there?”
“Not much right now. It’ll have a sofa bed and chairs eventually.
There’s a small kitchen space too. If I needed another home office, it would be perfect.
” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m officially retired, which means I need to cultivate some more hobbies.
I haven’t had much time for those in recent years.
Even my reading had to take a back seat.
” Owen passed Matt a cup. “Help yourself to milk. And a cookie. They come with Callum’s seal of approval. ”
He studied Matt in silence. The resemblance to Jeff at the same age was uncanny. The same dark hair, the same open smile. Even the laugh carried an echo of the young man Owen had met in the autumn of 1992.
It’s like stepping into a time machine.
For a moment he was twenty again, standing in a student cafeteria while Jeff attempted to convince half a dozen freshers that baked beans counted as a balanced diet.
We were close.
Friendships weren’t always lost in dramatic ways. Sometimes they slipped quietly into the spaces between jobs, marriages and children, until one day you realised decades had passed.
It was a sobering thought.
Jeff had neglected to mention how easy Matt was to spend time with. He listened instead of waiting for his turn to speak, and when he became enthusiastic about something, he didn’t care whether it sounded clever. There wasn’t a trace of showing off in him.
Owen liked that.
Better still, his phone had remained in his pocket since he’d arrived. Owen couldn’t remember the last time he’d met someone in their twenties who seemed more interested in the conversation than their screen.
When he’d talked about the tree, Owen had been impressed. He’d expected someone capable of mowing a lawn. Instead he’d found someone who could identify obscure trees, knew how to maintain a swimming pool, and was unexpectedly good company.
“Do I have something on my face?”
Owen gave a start. “Sorry. I was miles away. I was thinking you really do remind me of your dad.”
Matt tilted his head to one side. “What was he like then? He’s told us stories about uni, all the stuff he got up to.” His eyes sparkled. “Did he get up to any of it with you?”
Owen laughed. “He was a riot. He led me astray.”
“Dad?”
“He must’ve told you about clearing out Simon’s room. We were eight students who shared a huge house in our second year. Simon was a pain in the neck, so Jeff decided to teach him a lesson.”
Matt gaped. “He’s been telling that story for years, but he never once mentioned that it was his idea.”
“The best bit wasn’t moving the furniture.”
“There was a best bit?”
“We left him a Monopoly board on the floor. Every property card was hidden somewhere in the house. Inside socks, taped under drawers, tucked into cereal boxes. We told him he couldn’t have his stuff back in until he’d found every one.”
Matt burst out laughing. “Dad never mentioned that either.”
“In those days we seemed to have a never-ending supply of stupid ideas.”
“Which one of you usually came up with them?”
Owen didn’t hesitate. “Jeff.”
“And you?”
“I was the one saying, ‘Can I go on record as stating this is a terrible idea?’”
Matt smiled. “But you still did it.”
Owen chuckled. “Usually.”
“So you were the sensible one?” Matt sipped his tea.
He stroked his beard. “I preferred to think of myself as the risk assessor.”
Matt laughed again. “Which Dad ignored.”
“Completely.” Owen drank from his cup before speaking.
“Did he ever tell you about the time he convinced American tourists that Nelson’s Column was originally built upside down and had to be reconstructed after ‘The Great Pigeon Incident’?
” Owen shook his head. “I stood there listening to him invent British history for twenty minutes.”
Matt’s mouth fell open. “You’re telling me Dad was a professional bullshitter even then?”
“One of the best. He created posters advertising The Society For The Appreciation of Concrete.” Owen drew his hand through the air.
“‘Weekly meetings. Bring your favourite paving slab.’” He snorted.
“Twenty students turned up, and Jeff couldn’t stop laughing long enough to tell them it was a joke.
Then there was the time someone kept stealing plants from around campus.
So your dad and I ‘rescued’ every remaining pot overnight and hid them in our house.
The next day, the campus appeared plantless, and the Dean sent out a memo.
” He grinned. “Jeff spent three days watering sixty-seven plants in the kitchen.”
“I haven’t heard any of this!”
“A group of us used to go on hikes sometimes at the weekend, but we soon learned never to let your dad be in charge of directions.” He snickered. “He could get lost in a phone box.”
Matt laughed, a bright, joyful sound. “That sounds about right. Whenever we went on holiday, Mum was always the navigator.”
“One afternoon we were trying to find Covent Garden.”
He frowned. “And?”
Owen rolled his eyes. “We started at Covent Garden.”
By now, Matt was wiping tears from his eyes.
Owen gave a fond smile. “Strangers never stayed strangers for long with Jeff around. Within five minutes of meeting someone, he’d know where they were from, what football team they supported, whether they had kids and whether they’d lend him a tenner.
” Another shake of his head. “Jeff collected people.”
Matt leaned back in his chair. “You do know I’ll never be able to look at him the same way after this?”
Owen inclined his head towards the house.
“Somewhere in there are boxes and boxes of photographs. I’ve always been a keen photographer.
” He smiled. “My only hobby. And most of the photos are of people. Your dad’s in plenty of them, your mum too.
When I get around to sorting through them, I’ll show you. ”
Matt’s eyes sparkled. “Actual photographs? As in little paper rectangles tucked into albums and shoeboxes?”
Owen pointed a finger at him. “Mock all you like. Your entire life is sitting on your phone—or floating around in some mythical cloud. One forgotten password and half your memories could disappear. Mine are still there if the internet disappears in a cyber-attack.”
Matt laughed. “I used to love looking through Mum and Dad’s old photo albums.” Then he winced. “That came out wrong.”
Owen raised an eyebrow.
“I mean… not because they’re old.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“They’re… experienced?”
Owen laughed. “Keep digging.”
Matt buried his face in his hands. “I’m making this worse, aren’t I?”
“Spectacularly.”
He groaned. “Can we pretend I stopped talking after ‘photo albums’?”
“I’ll consider it.”
Matt flushed. He glanced at the garden. “So where do you keep your lawnmower? Your garden tools?”
He blinked.
Matt stared at him. “You do have those things, right?”
“The tools, yes. My last lawnmower died. I suppose I should replace it.”
He peered at the lawn. “Sooner rather than later. There’s a B&Q in Eastleigh. That’s only half an hour away. And their garden centre will have stuff for taking care of the shrubs, plus maybe some new plants.”
“Any chance you could come with me? Tomorrow, maybe?”
He thought for a moment. “Sure. That’s doable.”
Owen frowned. “Hold on. If you have to work on your dissertation, I understand. That’s important.”
Matt’s easy smile was warm. “I think I can afford to take a trip to B&Q. But you also mentioned IKEA. Why go online to look for what you need? There’s one in Southampton, and that’s less than thirty minutes from Eastleigh. We could kill two birds with one stone.”
Owen grinned. “Callum was planning on going home tomorrow. He lives in Southampton. We could drop him off if he doesn’t want to take the train.
I’ll ask.” He scanned the garden. “There is something else I’d like you to consider.
I want a water feature. I love the sound of running water. Can we discuss where it might go?”
Matt nodded. “There are loads of different kinds. It depends what vibe you’re going for. Abstract, Zen, woodland animals…”
“Run that last one by me again?”
He snickered. “Last time I was at B&Q, they had a water feature made of resin squirrels, cast to look like bronze, holding buckets that poured water into each other.”
Owen coughed. “No. Definitely not.” He could almost hear Ben. It sounds cute. I love it.
Owen had to draw a line somewhere.
He poured himself another cup. “What did you study at Edinburgh?”
“History for my bachelor’s.”
“What made you choose that?”
Matt shrugged. “Because history isn’t about dates.”
“It isn’t?”
He shook his head. “It’s about people making decisions without knowing how they’ll turn out. And then I studied Film and Television for my master’s.”
“So what is your dissertation on?”
Matt flushed. “It’s a bit nerdy.”
“Try me. I promise not to judge.”
There was a pause. “I looked at masculinity in post-war British cinema.”
Owen laughed. “Okay, I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Most people don’t.”
“And what is your conclusion?”
Matt bit his lip. “That men spent decades pretending they didn’t need anyone.”
“That’s quite an observation.”
“They were taught vulnerability was failure.”
“And now?”
Another shrug. “I think we’re still teaching it.”
Owen looked down into his tea.
You may have a point.
Silence fell, but it didn’t feel awkward.
Then Matt cleared his throat. “So I start work tomorrow?”
Owen nodded. “Tomorrow.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew his phone.
He opened Contacts before handing it to Matt.
“Add your details before you go. I’ll text you when I’m ready to leave.
First we’ll go to B&Q, then IKEA. It would be good if you had a list of everything you’ll need for the garden and the pool. ”
“I can do that.” Matt stood, stretching his arms above his head. “Right. I’d better leave you in peace.”
Owen got to his feet. “I’ll walk you out.”
They went inside, and he led Matt through the house to the front door.
“At least the commute is simple for this job,” Matt quipped as he stepped outside.
“Yeah, not much chance of getting lost.” Owen grinned. “I’m surprised your dad made it home though.” They both laughed. Owen held his hand out, and they shook. “Thanks for coming over.”
“My pleasure.”
Matt headed down the drive and turned right.
Owen stood in the doorway for another few seconds before closing it.
Callum wandered into the hall carrying another flattened cardboard box.
“Gone?”
“Mm.”
Callum studied him. “You like him.”
Owen blinked. “Of course I like him. He’s polite, knows what he’s talking about, and possesses practical skills neither of us have.”
Callum laughed. “Fair enough.” He picked up another box. “I’ve just never seen you talk to someone for an hour on the first day you met them.”
Owen opened his mouth. Closed it again.
Callum grinned. “You didn’t notice, did you?”
“No.”
“You’ve barely looked at your phone either.”
“I was having a conversation.”
“Exactly.” Callum shrugged. “I think it’s good.” He disappeared upstairs.
Owen returned to the garden. The tea things still sat on the patio table. Two untouched ginger biscuits remained on the plate.
I should clear them away.
Instead, he stood for another moment, listening. The garden was quiet now, quieter than it had felt all afternoon.
Tomorrow.
For reasons he couldn’t explain, he found himself looking forward to it.