Half-truths & White Lies (26 page)

The purchase of 42 Westbrook Road was pushed
through by Uncle Pete's firm, but he struggled with the
architect's design to convert the two houses into flats.
'We're a room short.' He fretted over the drawings, turning
them this way and that as if more space would
miraculously appear. 'Flat 4 doesn't have its own
bathroom.'

'I can share with Nana,' I offered, but he wouldn't
hear of it, ignoring the fact that I had shared a bathroom
with my parents and Nana for my entire life, apart
from a brief respite when I had shared his bathroom,
and three years at university when I shared with five
other students. What did it matter if we were a room
short? I was still waiting for my aunt and my godfather
to ask to talk to me when the contracts were exchanged,
still waiting when the date of completion came and we
had what was referred to as a 'family celebration' in the
lounge of the new house. Still waiting as the designs
were drawn up. Still waiting as the four of us chose
which of the flats we wanted. Sod that room! It was the
thought of everything that could blow up around us
that gave me sleepless nights.

'It's too late for me to say anything now,' I mourned
to Lydia.

'It's not, love. It's just that the timing's got to be right
and that moment hasn't arrived yet.'

'It's getting to the stage when the waiting is worse
than anything anyone can tell me.'

'Then your head's getting sorted. That's a good milestone
to have reached.'

'Ma!' Kevin shouted from the living room. 'Ah can't
find the last piece!'

'Scuse me, love,' she said. 'He's doing one of those
thousand-piece jigsaw puzzles. I buy them from Oxfam
because he only does them the once, but this happens
every time.' She slapped her thighs and pushed herself
to standing. 'We'd better go and sort him out.'

The puzzle covered most of the available floor space
and Kevin was kneeling by it, clearly exasperated. There
was a small piece of patterned carpet showing through
near the middle.

Lydia grabbed the empty box. 'He's been working on
this all day.' She shook her head.

'Five hours wasted!' Kevin muttered.

Lydia beamed rays of sympathy at him. 'I'm sorry,
love.'

'Is that a picture of baked beans?' I asked. 'It must
have been really difficult.'

'Aye, he's good at puzzles, this one. He can solve anything,
given a bit of time.'

'I don't suppose you'd take a look at the floor plans
for the flats?' I joked, but then it struck me that Kevin
might see something we hadn't.

He shrugged. 'May as well do it now, seeing as Ah
can't finish this.'

'Right.' I was used to people who made promises and
then put things off for another day. 'I'll get them,
shall I?'

'I'll put the kettle on, then,' Lydia offered. 'The brain
always works better with a cup of tea.'

Sitting round the kitchen table I explained the
problem to Kevin. 'We need two flats in each house.
Every flat is supposed to have a living room, a bedroom,
a kitchen and a bathroom, and Uncle's Pete will have an
office in the loft extension. The problem is that the
upstairs flats have these big landings in the middle and
these' – I pointed to bold lines – 'are the supporting
walls.'

'Let's have some paper, Ma.' He took charge and
quickly sketched near perfect copies of the drawings.

'So, that one's got ter stay?' He pointed to one of the
bold walls.

I nodded and pointed. 'And that one.'

'Shame,' he said, sketching in some new lines,
'because this would have made the best room of the
space.'

'I don't think they even thought of that one!' I was
impressed with his initial thoughts.

'Is the flat for you?' he asked, scratching his head.

'Yes.'

'Are you set on having a separate kitchen an' living
room?'

I shrugged. 'Not necessarily.'

'There's ernly two options,' he said. 'You make a larger
living room an' put the kitchen in it, like this.' He drew
another sketch, and let me take it in. 'Or, we could swap
round these two like this, but you ernly end up with a
shower room.'

He passed the plans back to me, as if he was ready for
the next challenge of the day.

'That's brilliant!' I was genuinely impressed, not only
by the speed of the solution, but by the drawings themselves.
'I think I could live with both of them. Have you
ever thought of going in for design?'

'Oh,' Lydia nodded, 'you'd be ever so good at it.'

'It's just like a jigsaw puzzle, really.' It was his turn to
shrug. 'Nothing to it.'

'Do you think you could come next door to explain it
to Uncle Pete, like you did to me?'

Lydia folded her arms and raised her eyebrows. Kevin
looked unsure, as if the thought of leaving the house
pained him.

'Go on, love!' she said. 'It won't take a mo'.'

'You might have some more ideas when you see the
house,' I encouraged.

'Just for a few minutes.' He gathered up the papers
reluctantly.

'Uncle Pete!' I yelled, opening the front door.

'Through here!' came the reply.

'Kevin's solved all your problems for you. Come in,
Kevin.' I beckoned him over to the table where Uncle
Pete was still struggling with the paperwork, one pencil
in his hand and another behind an ear.

'Good to meet you.' He stood and leaned over the
table to offer his hand, which Kevin held rather than
shook. 'If that's the case, you're a better man than me. I
don't have a head for these things at all. Spread yourself
out on the table and let's take a look.'

Kevin walked around the back of the table and laid
his plans out, and started talking Uncle Pete through
them. As always, he kept to the point, short and simple,
like all good technical explanations should be – unless
you're trying to bamboozle your audience. Leaning
forwards from the waist, Uncle Pete supported his
weight on his hands. After he had glanced at the papers
in front of him, I realized that he was looking at Kevin
rather than the plans. As Uncle Pete quizzed him about
details of plumbing and doors, I thought that he must
have seen a flaw.

'Do you mind if I run these by my architect?' Uncle
Pete asked, rolling them up and tapping his other palm
with them.

'Ah've got no use for them,' Kevin said dismissively.

'Can I ask what line of business you're in?'

'Ah work for Morrisons,' Kevin replied.

'Do you design their stores? That must be very
rewarding.'

'Ah stack the shelves.'

'They don't know what they're missing out on.
I'm very grateful to you.' He held out a hand to
Kevin again who took it uncertainly. 'Very grateful.'

'Ahm good at my job.' Kevin seemed to be under the
impression that he had been criticized.

'I dare say you are.'

Kevin turned to me. 'Can Ah go now?'

'I'll show you out.' I smiled and walked him to the
door. 'See you soon. And thank you.'

'Well?' I said, returning to find Uncle Pete sitting and
staring in front of him. 'You obviously saw a problem
with them.'

'Not at all. They're quite brilliant. Simple but
brilliant. I can't believe I didn't see it myself. Who
is
that
boy?'

'That's Lydia's son, Kevin. They'll be your new
neighbours.'

'He's not from round here, is he? There's a hint of
something in his accent.'

'Lydia's from round here, but Kevin was brought up in
Sunderland. He's adopted.'

'Adopted,' he repeated, nodding, his usually ruddy
face pale.

'Are you all right, Uncle Pete?' I asked. 'You look like
you've seen a ghost.'

'Not a ghost, Andrea,' he said. 'I think you'd better sit
down. I've got something I need to tell you.'

He got up and opened the drinks cabinet, taking out
two glasses and a bottle of expensive brandy.

'No, thank you,' I said as he poured two large
measures, ignoring me.

'Can't stand brandy myself. It's purely medicinal. You
might need it,' he said. Then he sat and seemed reluctant
to speak, covering his mouth with one hand and
sighing.

'We don't have to do this now,' I said after a short
while. 'It's still too early for both of us. I know what
you're going to say.'

'No, Andrea,' he insisted gently, shaking his head, 'I'm
afraid you don't. I'm still struggling to work out how the
story fits together. And now the two people who could
have given me the answers are gone, so I can only tell
you my part. You see, it has always seemed as if the
people who are missing from my life have been as
important as those who are part of it. And as you get
older, I'm afraid the list of missing people starts to grow.
But for now, let me tell you about just two of those
people.' He topped up his own glass. 'Stay right there for
a minute. First of all, there's something that I need.' I
heard his heavy footsteps retreating upstairs and then
returning. He appeared with a framed photograph,
which he set down carefully on the table and then
turned towards me. I saw an ageing sepia print of a
young man in uniform, grinning at the camera. 'I'd like
you to meet my Uncle Jonathan. He was my father's
identical twin. I know his face better than I know my
own. He would have been twenty-one when that picture
was taken. It was a month before he was killed. How old
would you say Kevin is?'

I picked up the photograph by the frame and studied
the face more closely, looking from Uncle Pete back
to the print. There was only a slight family resemblance
between them. 'He was twenty-one earlier this year,' I
said, but I knew what I was holding in my hands. It was
another piece of the jigsaw puzzle.

He nodded. 'Four years younger than you.'

And then he began his story.

I approached Lydia's front door in a similar state of
nerves to the one that she had been in on her return
from London. Stowed away in my handbag was Uncle
Jonathan's framed photograph. Uncle Pete had been
reluctant to let it out of his sight, but I had insisted that
I needed a prop.

'We're going to need two of your strongest cups of tea,'
I said, heady with brandy and churning thoughts.

'Don't tell me,' she said as she headed for the kitchen,
'you've won the lottery.'

'Not quite.'

'Well, something's up, I can tell. Let's sit us down so I
can give you my undivided attention.' She fussed about
with teacups and the teapot, and then joined me. 'I
could do with a break. I'm dead on my feet.'

I found myself mirroring Uncle Pete's stance earlier.

'Oh, Lordy,' said Lydia, bringing one hand to her own
mouth and using the other to cover the one of mine that
was resting on the table. 'You've had the talk. How did
it go?'

'I think we've found my brother,' I said.

'Oh, that's marvellous!' She brought the hand that
had been resting on mine to join its partner by her
mouth.

'Yes, it is.' I nodded, reaching for the photograph and
placing it carefully in front of her.

'Well, that's not him.' She had only looked at the age
of the photograph rather than the detail.

'Look closely,' I told her, my eyes on her face rather
than the picture. I watched as her expression changed
from shock to confusion, then I poured her a cup of tea.

'Who is this?' she asked, her voice no more than a
whisper.

'This is my Uncle Pete's uncle. His father's identical
twin. He was killed in the second world war when he
was only twenty-one.'

'Uncle Pete thinks that Kevin's his son,' she said.

'You've got to admit they're very alike.'

'But who's his mother?'

'It's beginning to look like Kevin is my half-brother.'

'The photos of the baby that you found! That was my
Kevin?' she said. 'So, your Uncle Pete wasn't just visiting
your mother in hospital.'

I had already gone through this stage of shock only
hours earlier. The camera never lies. The question that I
still couldn't quite understand was how the three of
them had all managed to stay friends.

'There weren't any Fellows family photographs
because he wasn't a Fellows,' I explained. 'I don't know
how he did it, but Kevin may not have been so far off
the mark after all. Lydia, I need you to ask Kevin to
open the envelope.'

She recoiled. 'It'll finish him!'

'No, it won't,' I said. 'It might come a shock, but he
should have a choice whether to get to know his father.
And he's never had a sister before.'

'But don't you see? There isn't any choice when the
man's living next door. It's not like finding out that your
father lives several miles away and you can visit if you
want to.'

'Uncle Pete would never force himself on Kevin. He
just wants to do the right thing by him.'

'Who we talkin' about?' Kevin ambled in, taking an
apple from the fruit bowl and biting into it noisily.

Lydia and I looked at each other.

It was Lydia who said at last, 'Sit down, love. There's
something we need to show you.' He sat and she placed
the photograph in front of him. 'We think we've found
your father.'

He sat there in silence for some time. Then, without
taking his eyes from Uncle Jonathan's photograph, he
said, 'Ma, please can you get me envelope.'

We waited in the living room holding hands while he
faced his truth alone in the kitchen.

'Do you know?' Lydia said nervously. 'If Kevin's your
brother, then we're almost related. I always wanted a
daughter and I couldn't think of a better one than you.'

'Ma!' Kevin called from the kitchen. 'You there?'

'Yes, love!' She squeezed my hand. 'That's our cue.' We
both stood and walked to the kitchen.

'Hello, Andrea,' he said. It was only two words, but it
meant so much more. After so much loss, I had found
my brother.

'Hello, Kevin.'

'Ah'd like ter be called Derek from now on,' he
announced.

And it would prove to be about as liberating an
experience as a twenty-one-year old is capable of.