Chapter 32
The next day, Theo is out of action to prepare for his school’s A level results, which won’t be released to students till tomorrow but the teachers find out today.
He’d originally intended to fly back to Manchester, before our plans changed and the kids joined us.
He feels bad about not being there but hasn’t missed a results day in nearly ten years; plus, he has a supportive deputy head who’s already been away so has offered to step in.
But he still needs to be online and on the phone, which means I’m on childcare duty and won’t be able to sneak off and read Mum’s second letter. Part of me is relieved.
I take the kids to see Angelika, who’s invited us to spend another day by her pool—and to meet her granddaughters, who’ve arrived for their delayed summer holiday.
As we troop through the gates, she’s standing waiting for us, wearing a tiger-print kaftan and gold jewelry that glints in the sun.
On either side of her is a fine-featured, pretty, slim, blond girl.
Angelika introduces one as Lina, who’s sixteen, and the other as Freya, who’s fourteen.
Thankfully, they both speak excellent English.
“Our mum’s British,” Lina explains. “She’s from Hertfordshire.”
“Really?” says Callum. “So’s our dad.”
I notice him blushing slightly—and Lina does too.
Mabel gives Angelika a basket of figs to say thank you for the Harry Styles tickets.
“Klasse!” Angelika gushes. “I love Willie’s figs!”
She drops the basket off in the kitchen, then leads us down to the pool, shielding her face from the sun with her lace parasol.
She asks if we enjoyed the concert and Mabel and I tell her all about it as the kids strip down to their swimwear and I apply Archie’s suncream.
This time, Callum and Mabel come to me to offer up their backs.
Mabel’s bikini—a purple sporty number—is making its debut appearance and she doesn’t appear to be self-conscious wearing it.
Callum, too, is holding himself more confidently: while he’s still skinny, his chest stands proud.
I also notice Lina checking him out when she thinks nobody’s looking.
“It seems to me that Callum’s making quite an impression on my granddaughter,” Angelika comments under her breath.
“I think Lina’s making just as big an impression on him,” I mutter back.
We share a smile and sit down at the table. A bottle of Prosecco is standing in an ice bucket, next to a crystal sphere of raspberry liqueur and two empty champagne flutes, which Angelika fills without any discussion. We slip off our sunglasses and bring our glasses together.
Angelika asks how the house renovations are going and I run her through our plans.
“The kitchen and second bathroom will be finished by the end of this week, which means the only room left is the bathroom in the cottage. The builders are already getting on with the damp proofing and changing the electrics, or should I say there are holes and trenches in the walls and wires hanging everywhere. I don’t quite understand what’s going on and I’m not sure I want to. ”
Angelika releases a bracelet that’s caught on the side of her kaftan. “Quite right, darling. You and I are far too fabulous for that kind of thing. When we renovated this place, I left it all to Edgar until they were done with the plastering. Now, tell me your plans for the décor.”
I take a swig of my drink. “We’re going to stay authentic so we’ll probably paint the walls in warm, earthy tones. I need to start thinking about that, although I’ve already bought a few bits. And I put up some photos the other day.”
I tell her about the passport photos we found of Wilf and Arnaldo—and the difference between these and the stiff, posed shots that stood on the shelves.
“I’ll look forward to seeing them,” says Angelika. “You know, Willie and Arnaldo didn’t like to show affection in public—even when I knew them, when they could go down to the village and people were friendly. I think they just got used to holding it in and it became second nature.”
I look at Callum and Lina, who aren’t engaging with the others but sitting on the side of the pool, swinging their legs, chatting.
Their faces are animated and their eyes sparkling.
It wouldn’t occur to them to worry about their attraction towards each other being seen—apart from maybe not wanting their siblings to wind them up.
“That’s sad, isn’t it?” I say to Angelika.
She lets out a sigh. “It is, darling. You know, the only time I ever saw Willie and Arnaldo expressing affection was when I turned up unannounced at the house once and caught them kissing on the lawn. Willie wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest, but Arnaldo was.”
We’re distracted by a loud, theatrical giggle coming from Lina.
Callum is smoothing his fringe and chuckling.
At the other side of the pool, Mabel and Freya seem to be getting on well, trying out different dives.
But Archie is left out, sitting on the steps, playing with Captain America.
I excuse myself and go over to ask if he wants me to throw the house key into the water so he can find it.
His face lights up and he tosses Captain America away.
I direct him to turn his back and—knowing he’s a good swimmer—throw the key into the deep end.
“What was he like, Arnaldo?” I ask Angelika, once Archie’s searching the pool. “We hardly spoke about him the other day—it was all about Wilf.”
Angelika screws a cigarette into her holder and lights it with her gold-plated Zippo.
“He was quite restrained and buttoned-up, as you Brits say—much more subdued than Willie. I think his family was very religious. I remember once telling him about working on an airbus—where they used to have a private room for the crew—and walking in on two of my gay friends having what the British crews used to call a flying fuck.”
I cackle loudly.
“Working for an airline was wild in those days.” She takes an extravagant drag on her cigarette and blows the smoke over her shoulder. “Arnaldo didn’t disapprove but I could tell he was uncomfortable with anything explicit. Willie, on the other hand, loved my stories.”
I grin at her. “In that case, I know where I get it from.”
I excuse myself again and go over to check on Archie. He’s spotted the key at the opposite end of the pool and is swimming over. Lina, meanwhile, has got in the pool and is throwing a ball high in the air so Callum can catch it as he jumps in.
“So they were very different, then?” I ask Angelika. “Wilf and Arnaldo?”
“In some ways, yes. And their relationship wasn’t perfect. Arnaldo could be very proud.”
“What do you mean?”
She takes a swig of her drink. “Well, if they had a row, he wouldn’t say sorry—he’d just brood.
My Edgar was like that, so I sympathized.
Arnaldo saw himself as a traditional man, the head of the household, so Willie did all the housework and the cooking.
I wasn’t sure it was a fair division of labor but it seemed to work for them.
And they were very much in love. Willie was devastated when he died. ”
I watch as Archie dives down for the key and reemerges with it in his hand.
“That’s brill, Archie!” I shout. “Well done!”
When he’s given me the key back, I tuck it into a little recess that leads into some kind of filter just under the rim of the pool—hoping this will give me more time to talk. Once Archie’s searching, I sit back down. “And how did Arnaldo die? Actually, when did he die? I don’t even know that.”
Angelika narrows her eyes as she works it out.
“It would have been twenty-five years ago, because I remember Willie saying we were coming up to the anniversary. He was a heavy smoker and had lung cancer.” She takes one last drag on her cigarette, blows out her smoke and stubs it out.
“Willie hated smoking. He always said if Arnaldo hadn’t smoked they may have had another five or ten years together. ”
I suddenly have an idea. But I put it to the back of my mind as Archie’s swimming around the pool, clueless. I shout to him, “You’re stone cold!”
He switches direction.
“Getting warmer!” I yell.
I turn back to Angelika. “So was Arnaldo ill for a long time?”
She nods, gravely. “It was a slow end and very unpleasant. And then there was the injustice of their legal situation.”
As she tops up our glasses, Angelika explains that Arnaldo wasn’t able to register Wilf as his next of kin, as they weren’t married.
So when Arnaldo had an infection, lost consciousness and was rushed into hospital, Wilf wasn’t allowed at his bedside.
On that occasion, Arnaldo regained consciousness and Wilf was then allowed to come in during regular visiting hours, but Arnaldo didn’t want Wilf showing him affection.
“He didn’t want Willie to hold his hand and that really upset him.
So when Arnaldo recovered—but it became clear he wasn’t going to beat the cancer—he stopped the treatment and moved back home. ”
“Am I warm now?” shouts Archie, treading water next to the filter.
“Red hot!” I shout back.
“After he died, Willie became quite reclusive,” Angelika continues.
“Then one day—about a month later—I drove down to the house, bundled him in the car and brought him up here. After that I used to tell Edgar to piss off and play golf so Willie and I could sit here drinking. I’d tell him my stories and gradually he started laughing again. ”
Archie spots the key in the recess, thrusts his hand in and pulls it out. “Got it!”
I trot over to congratulate him, then look for a new hiding place. Callum and Lina are no longer sitting on the side but standing in the pool, and he’s trying to impress her by showing how long he can hold his breath underwater. I persuade him to stand with his foot covering the key.
“Right,” I say to Archie, “on your marks, get set, go!”