to retrieve things, to store more junk – but the memory of that night waits for him here, hiding behind a shrouded armchair, inside a half-opened box. Clearing the room will be good, he thinks, good for the soul of the house. He’ll tell Agnes about what happened, he’ll tell her about his mother and that night. She’ll understand, she’ll listen to him.
Appalled by the standard of British bathrooms, Agnes is insistent about the plumbing. She speaks very firmly; she hasn’t made any demands before this so Robert listens carefully. ‘I want a shower – separate from the bath – tiled – with steam and heat and power.’
Robert nods. ‘Okay –’
She’s got her hands on her hips. ‘I want a toilet that flushes at first go, a single tap in the sink capable of mixing hot and cold water, a window that actually opens – not one of those disgusting plastic vents that gets very dirty and spins round and round endlessly. Built-in cupboards – not open shelves. A heated towel rack as well as the radiator. A magazine rack, decent lighting. Mirrors.’
Robert kisses her; the sound of her voice – her accent – entrances him. ‘I promise the nearest approximation of an American bathroom that England can muster.’ Agnes puts her arm around him and passes on the heat of her body. He talks into her hair, ‘I am happy to obey.’
‘How the fuck do you think we’ll pay for that?’ Graeme asks when Robert details his plans. Agnes has gone down to London to shop with Jenny.
‘There is some money. This is work that needs doing.’ Robert is always diligent about keeping Graeme informed, even though they both know full well that what Graeme thinks or says makes no difference to his plans.
‘I increased the rent when the farming lease came up three months ago. I told you what I was doing.’ These conversations usually fill Robert with dread. This time he’s been caught off-guard, his head full of Agnes, he hasn’t thought the argument through properly. Graeme has no role in running the estate, there isn’t enough work for two people, but they play this game nonetheless. When their father fell ill Robert took on the task of running the house and land; he was about to finish school and wasn’t sure what to do next, he hadn’t liked school enough to want to go to university. Graeme was already a police constable, working in Peterborough. He and Karen had married as soon as he finished his training; they’d been together since they were fourteen, although Graeme had always played the field. This is how Robert thinks of his brother: Graeme plays the field. So the task of running the house and the land the family still owned came to Robert. It had been his idea to turn part of the collection of outbuildings into holiday cottages, three all together. In an act of supreme bullishness that made him unpopular in both the Black Hat and the Marquis of Granby for a while, he threw the long-standing tenant farmer off the land when the lease lapsed and sold the tenancy to corporate agribusiness. He’d had other business ventures that were less successful; he invested in a new riding stable one year and lost a fair bit of money on that. But on the whole, he makes it work, generating enough cash to support the entire family. And Graeme makes sure that Robert knows he resents him for it. It had been all right when Graeme was working, he couldn’t care less what Robert did with the land. But when he lost his job and ended up at home all day every day, it became more difficult. His disability pension doesn’t add up to much when it comes to the general cash flow. He is angry – he’s always been angry, but now he is permanently enraged.
‘The work has to be done,’ Robert insists. ‘That part of the house is practically falling down. Agnes and I need somewhere to live. I don’t want her to move into my old bedroom.’ This thought makes him laugh. ‘That room has seen rather too much of me.’ He turns to Graeme.
Appalled by the standard of British bathrooms, Agnes is insistent about the plumbing. She speaks very firmly; she hasn’t made any demands before this so Robert listens carefully. ‘I want a shower – separate from the bath – tiled – with steam and heat and power.’
Robert nods. ‘Okay –’
She’s got her hands on her hips. ‘I want a toilet that flushes at first go, a single tap in the sink capable of mixing hot and cold water, a window that actually opens – not one of those disgusting plastic vents that gets very dirty and spins round and round endlessly. Built-in cupboards – not open shelves. A heated towel rack as well as the radiator. A magazine rack, decent lighting. Mirrors.’
Robert kisses her; the sound of her voice – her accent – entrances him. ‘I promise the nearest approximation of an American bathroom that England can muster.’ Agnes puts her arm around him and passes on the heat of her body. He talks into her hair, ‘I am happy to obey.’
‘How the fuck do you think we’ll pay for that?’ Graeme asks when Robert details his plans. Agnes has gone down to London to shop with Jenny.
‘There is some money. This is work that needs doing.’ Robert is always diligent about keeping Graeme informed, even though they both know full well that what Graeme thinks or says makes no difference to his plans.
‘I increased the rent when the farming lease came up three months ago. I told you what I was doing.’ These conversations usually fill Robert with dread. This time he’s been caught off-guard, his head full of Agnes, he hasn’t thought the argument through properly. Graeme has no role in running the estate, there isn’t enough work for two people, but they play this game nonetheless. When their father fell ill Robert took on the task of running the house and land; he was about to finish school and wasn’t sure what to do next, he hadn’t liked school enough to want to go to university. Graeme was already a police constable, working in Peterborough. He and Karen had married as soon as he finished his training; they’d been together since they were fourteen, although Graeme had always played the field. This is how Robert thinks of his brother: Graeme plays the field. So the task of running the house and the land the family still owned came to Robert. It had been his idea to turn part of the collection of outbuildings into holiday cottages, three all together. In an act of supreme bullishness that made him unpopular in both the Black Hat and the Marquis of Granby for a while, he threw the long-standing tenant farmer off the land when the lease lapsed and sold the tenancy to corporate agribusiness. He’d had other business ventures that were less successful; he invested in a new riding stable one year and lost a fair bit of money on that. But on the whole, he makes it work, generating enough cash to support the entire family. And Graeme makes sure that Robert knows he resents him for it. It had been all right when Graeme was working, he couldn’t care less what Robert did with the land. But when he lost his job and ended up at home all day every day, it became more difficult. His disability pension doesn’t add up to much when it comes to the general cash flow. He is angry – he’s always been angry, but now he is permanently enraged.
‘The work has to be done,’ Robert insists. ‘That part of the house is practically falling down. Agnes and I need somewhere to live. I don’t want her to move into my old bedroom.’ This thought makes him laugh. ‘That room has seen rather too much of me.’ He turns to Graeme.
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