Gran's House
by Kit
Chapter 11
During the course of the week, my brothers called me every evening as soon as they'd finished any homework they might have, and usually that meant any time between six thirty and seven o'clock. I'd told them that it would usually be better if they called me because I didn't want to interrupt their schedule. They protested that they didn't mind if I did, but I pointed out that we needed to keep David and Sarah happy.
On Monday, apart from the usual topics, we discussed plans for the following Saturday, when I'd be picking them up in the morning and taking them back in the evening. This time, Sarah and David had agreed that they didn't have to be back for teatime. Instead, I could return the boys later, provided I gave them notice and had the boys back before eight o'clock.
When I asked the boys what they wanted to do at the weekend, Connor said he'd like to go to the seaside, and Liam said that he wanted to come to my house. I suggested that if the weather was good, we'd go to the seaside, and if not, we'd come to my house. I also told them that David and Sarah would need to agree to a seaside trip. Both boys accepted that compromise.
Rose phoned me on Tuesday morning.
"I saw the 'home tour' video you sent to your brothers," she said. "The house is impressive, but of course I'm still required to see it in person."
"So you've seen the boys recently?"
"When children are part of my casework, I visit them regularly. Even when they're in a safe foster home, I try to visit at least a couple of times per month," she replied. "And in case you're wondering, I didn't spy on them. They show off the video to anyone who's prepared to watch."
"So, as you mentioned seeing the house in person, I guess you have a date planned for visiting."
"Yes, would you be available in the afternoon on the second Friday in July? From what you told me, that should be a couple of days after your graduation ceremony."
"Yes, that's fine."
"Good. I've arranged to meet Charles Hampton, my colleague from Linchester Social Services, at your house at around two thirty. He'll need to ask you some questions, and some will overlap with what you've already told us. However, he needs to make an independent assessment. Anyway, there's no need to be concerned. Of course, he's diligent, but he's not intimidating. I know him well, and he's a really nice, friendly person."
That evening, the first thing I noticed when my brothers called was that they were both upset and that Liam was almost in tears.
"The mugs and glasses you gave us have gone," Connor said as soon as he appeared on the screen.
"Gone?" I asked, confused. "Do you mean broken? How?"
"Just gone," he replied. "Disappeared. We used the mugs for breakfast drinks, but when we got back after school, we were going to use the glasses but couldn't find them. Sarah and David helped us look everywhere, but we can't find them."
"Don't worry. I can get replacements. They aren't expensive," I said, trying to console them.
"But they're ours," Liam lamented. "With our names on!"
"If you get more," Connor said, frowning, "don't bring them here. Keep them at your house, and we'll use them there."
When he said that, I realised that he didn't think that the disappearance of the mugs and glasses was accidental. When I gave the matter more thought, I tended to believe the same. Four items going missing at the same time was unlikely to be coincidence. I recalled David's uncomfortable expression when he saw them, but I knew that neither he nor his wife would simply make them just disappear.
It occurred to me, however, that David's discomfort might have been because he suspected that something might happen. After all, he'd mentioned his concerns about jealousy when I'd first raised the idea of getting a laptop for Connor. Perhaps that was something I should have thought about before suggesting that my brothers take the presents back to their foster home.
"What's the matter?" the older boy asked when I'd gone quiet. "Are you mad at us?"
"No, I was just thinking," I reassured him. "It's not your fault. It's something I should have thought about. Anyway, don't worry. I'll take care of it."
"Did you see the weatherman said it's going to be nice on Saturday?" Liam asked, apparently cheered up by my reaction to their bad news.
"I thought you wanted to come here," I said, "so why does the weather matter?"
"It matters!" he protested. "Like Connor said, house weather can be anytime, but seaside weather doesn't happen as much."
"Right, I'll check with David and Sarah tonight about a seaside trip, and in any case, we don't have to make up our minds until we actually see for ourselves what the weather's like on Saturday."
After the chat with my brothers ended, I called David.
"Hi, Paul," he greeted me. "I suppose the boys told you about the mugs?"
"Yes," I replied, "and I know it's probably my fault for being thoughtless. I should have considered the whole household, not just my brothers."
"Ah, maybe I should have mentioned it," he said, sounding a little sheepish, "but I didn't want to seem like an ungrateful spoilsport, and I was hoping that nothing, erm, negative would happen. As for thinking mostly about your brothers, well, that's only natural."
"Anyway," I said, "hopefully I can fix my error by getting named mugs and glasses for everyone, including you and Sarah. And I'm sure I can have Susie's name put on a sippy cup. Then no one will feel left out. What do you think?"
"That's kind of you. It's worth a try."
"One more thing," I said. "If the weather's good on Saturday, my brothers would like me to take them to the seaside. Would that be okay with you and Sarah?"
"Yes, the boys already mentioned that possibility, and I've already discussed it with her. It's okay if you let us know exactly where you'll be going before you set off, and make sure you return them here before eight," he said, then with a touch of humour, he added, "And, of course, I'm sure that you'll look after them carefully and not let them drown at sea."
"I'm sorry that I didn't consult with you before you heard it from the boys, but Connor only suggested it yesterday."
"No problem. It's good that your brothers are comfortable talking with me and Sarah about anything, even when something is just a suggestion," he said. "And speaking of the boys talking, they've been telling anyone who'll listen what a great time they had when they visited you. They also showed us the video tour that you made for them."
"I had a great time, too. Just being around them brightens my day."
"There's just one thing," he said a little hesitantly. "I'm sorry if this seems a little petty, but could you ask your brothers not to be quite so, erm, enthusiastic when they talk to the other kids, especially Mike, about how much fun they have with you? When a child has a background of neglect and feels deserted and alone, it can be a little hurtful if they feel that another child is boasting about having a great brother who takes them places and buys them lots of presents."
"Yes, of course I understand. And I don't think that it's petty to want the best for all the children in your care. I'll have a quiet word with Connor and Liam and ask them to tone things down."
On Thursday evening, the boys called a little earlier than usual, and Connor immediately began with a statement that took me by surprise.
"I really, really wanted to hit Mike when I got home from school today, but I didn't," he said with a hint of pride.
"It's great that you controlled yourself," I replied, giving him the approval he obviously desired. "By not letting him push you into using violence, it proves that you're the better person."
"Mike was saying nasty things again," Liam said, "but he only does it when David and Sarah can't hear."
"Were they the same things that he said before?" I asked.
"Yeah," the older boy said, and his little brother nodded in confirmation.
"Do you feel like telling me what he said? What was so bad that made you want to hit him?"
Connor frowned in silence for a few seconds, and I didn't want to pressure him, so I remained quiet. Liam used his elbow to nudge the older boy, presumably encouraging him to speak.
"Promise you won't tell anyone, ever?" he said.
Of course, if I made that promise, I'd have to keep it, or I'd lose their trust forever. On the other hand, if it was something I thought my brothers would benefit from me revealing to others, then maybe I'd have to tell. However, if I didn't make the promise, he wouldn't tell me, and I wouldn't be able to help. Despite the complexity of the situation, it took me only a couple of seconds to decide.
"I promise that I won't tell anyone," I said. Then, seeing the way that both boys, and especially Liam, were still looking at me expectantly, I added, "Brother-promise."
"When he sees Liam holding my hand, he calls us queers and homos," Connor said, apparently relieved and giving the impression that he'd really wanted to confide in me.
"Those are really bad names. They're hurtful and hateful," I said, "but do you think they're bad enough to want to hit him?"
"Maybe not, but that wasn't what made me want to hit him," he said. Lowering his voice, he continued, "Once, when me and Liam were feeling sad about Mum, we were having a cuddle. Mike saw it, and since then he called us those names and said that Liam is my queer bum boy. And that's when I wanted to hit him."
"I see," I said sympathetically, understanding his strong motivation to protect his little brother. "There's no excuse for him to be saying horrible things about gay people, and I know that you'd be angry when he insulted your brother. So you did very well by resisting the temptation to hit him."
Connor smiled broadly as he enjoyed my praise and approval, then his expression changed to one of acute discomfort when his little brother spoke.
"What's a bum boy?" the little boy asked innocently.
The older boy obviously didn't want to answer that question, which made me feel that he might actually have known the answer.
"Do you know what gay people are?" I asked, addressing Liam.
"Yeah, it's men who want to get married with men."
"Or women who want to be with women," I added as clarification. "But names like 'homo', 'queer', and 'bum boy' are used to hurt people. And it's not nice to hurt people just because they're different, like being gay."
Liam nodded his understanding, and his older brother looked relieved, giving me a smile of gratitude.
"I don't know any gay people. Do you?" the little boy asked, looking at the screen and obviously addressing me.
"You may know people who are gay, but if they don't tell you, then you may not know it," I replied, "And, yes, I know some gay people."
"Would you be friends with a gay guy?" Connor asked, keeping a neutral tone and clearly trying to hide his own views on the matter.
"Of course I would. Some of my friends at uni were out, and some of my other friends were maybe gay but not out."
"What's out?" Liam asked.
"It means that they are open about it and don't care if people know."
There was a brief silence while both boys absorbed that information, then Connor asked a question that took me by surprise.
"Is Stephane gay?"
"I don't know, but if he is, then he's not told me," I said, reasonably satisfied that I wasn't breaking Rule Two.
It occurred to me that Connor's questions about gay people might have been testing me or perhaps preparing the ground for something more personal that he wanted to ask about.
"You can talk to me about anything, and you can ask me about anything," I said, "but remember that Rule Two allows us to keep some things private."
"How did you know I was going to ask something else?" he asked, looking concerned.
"I didn't know, but I just guessed from what you'd already said. So what is it you want to ask?"
"Maybe another time," Connor said uncertainly, looking at his little brother.
Liam, who'd become bored with how the conversation had developed, eagerly took that as his cue to change the subject. He asked about where we'd be going on Saturday, which was a topic that he found much more interesting.
Because I wanted to get an early start, I loaded the car on the evening before our trip. As had been the usual practice when Gran and Grandad took me to the seaside as a child, I also put covers on the car seats. On the morning of the excursion, I got up early and arrived at the foster home just after the boys had finished their breakfast.
My brothers came out to greet me as I was getting out of the car. Both were wearing identical outfits of dark blue shorts and pale blue T-shirts. As usual, Liam threw himself at me and gave me a hug. However, his older brother paused and looked at me with an amused expression before hugging me briefly.
"You're wearing shorts," he commented, frowning slightly as he stood back and examined me.
"So are you two," I pointed out. "It's going to be a warm day, and I'd look silly on the beach with long trousers."
"Your shirt's got funny patterns, and I can see your arms," he said in a slightly disapproving tone.
My beach shirt was pale blue, printed with tropical leaves in various shades of beige and light brown, and I'd carefully chosen it to go with my light tan shorts. So I felt a little hurt by his comments.
"I think your shirt's nice," Liam said. "And I think you look nice."
"Thanks," I said. "I wanted to look good for you so that you'd be happy to be seen with me."
"You do look good!" the older boy protested. "It's just, erm, different."
I reached into the car, took out my plain straw fedora and put it on.
"How about this, then?" I asked.
Liam started giggling, and his brother looked surprised and almost shocked. Even though I'd known him for only a relatively short time, I'd already begun to understand that Connor valued consistency and reliability in his life. Any sudden change, even a good change, made him feel unsettled. However, I hadn't previously realised that his negative attitude toward sudden change included clothing.
"I need to wear a hat if I'm outside for a long time in summer because my skin's easily burned by the sun," I said, taking off the hat and putting it back in the car. "Anyway, do you two have hats?"
"Liam doesn't get sunburn," the older boy said, looking at me pointedly.
"Hats don't just protect you from sunburn," I replied with a smile, "they protect you from sunstroke. If the sun is directly on your head for a long time, your body can get too hot."
"We don't have any hats," he responded a little irritably.
"Anyway, we can't stand here chatting about clothes and hats all day," I said, as I went to open the car boot. "I'll take this box inside, then we can collect your stuff and set off."
"What's in the box?" Liam asked.
"Mugs and glasses for everyone," I replied.
"But what if ours disappear again?" he said.
"There are extras for you and Connor back at my house. You can keep them there so you'll know those won't disappear."
"You've got a lot of stuff in there," the older boy pointed out as he peered into the boot.
"Yeah, Gran and Grandad always treated a trip to the beach like an expedition. We never used a lot of the stuff we took, but Grandad always said that it's better to take too much than find out later that we didn't have something we needed."
We all went inside and into the kitchen, where I handed over the box to David, who smiled and thanked me. He told me that in the hallway there was a bag with spare clothes and a few things for the boys, including sunscreen for Connor. I laughed and said that I had loads of factor 30 that I'd be happy to share with my brother. I also told him that I intended to buy hats for both boys.
Sarah came into the kitchen carrying Susie, and after greeting me, she put her daughter down and went to a shelf near the sink. She took down three empty jars and handed them to me.
"I thought you'd want these back," she said.
"Is this a hint that you'd like more?" I asked in a teasing tone.
"It's not intended as a hint," she said, returning my smile, "but if you choose to interpret it that way, then that's fine with us."
Surprisingly, when we returned to the car, there was no argument about who should sit in front. Presumably, the boys had decided between themselves, rather than have me toss a coin again. When Connor got into the front seat, Liam made no complaint, and his only comment before getting in the back was about the seat covers. I told him that when we went on trips to the beach, Grandad had always used covers so that things like sunscreen and sand wouldn't mess up the seats.
The drive took about eighty minutes, during which they enjoyed looking out at the lovely countryside while, as they requested, I sang and taught them the words of the silly songs. When we arrived, there were only a few isolated fluffy clouds in the clear blue sky. It was already quite warm, but fortunately, there was a gentle sea breeze to keep us comfortable.
The strong sunshine convinced me that the first priority was to put on sunscreen and to get hats for the boys. I began rubbing sunscreen on my exposed skin and instructed Connor to do the same. He complained, but his little brother, whose complexion didn't really make it essential, put on the cream without even being asked.
When I put on my fedora and sunglasses, both of them laughed at me and remarked that I looked silly. With good humour, I replied that I'd rather be comfortable and look silly than overheat and get blinded by the sun. I also pointed out that if we were exploring rock pools as Liam had requested, the polarised lenses on the sunglasses would enable us to see under the water more easily.
Liam asked Connor, who usually carried their phone, to let him have it so that he could 'take pictures', and the older boy reluctantly complied. The little boy immediately started taking photos, and his older brother scolded him, saying that he didn't want too many photos on the phone. I also pointed out that he'd get more enjoyment from the photos if he were selective and took shots of only what was special or important to him.
It only took a few minutes to find an appropriate shop, and despite complaints, especially from Connor, I insisted that they choose suitable hats. Liam chose a white hat that had a wide floppy brim, and the older boy picked one that resembled a baseball cap with cloth neck protection. While we were in the shop, I also bought sunglasses for them.
Then we sat in a shaded cafe forecourt and had a drink and a snack while we decided what we should do for the rest of the day. Eventually, and with many compromises, it was decided that we start by going on some rides at the funfair, then have a late lunch, then go on the beach, and then have pizza before going home.
Because it was relatively early, the funfair wasn't too busy. However, when it was time to go for lunch, Connor still complained that he hadn't been able to get on all the rides that he'd wanted. After lunch, we stopped by the car to pick up a few things. Although the beach was only about a five-minute walk from the car, both boys grumbled and asked why we needed to carry 'so much stuff'.
The sandy beach was wide and stretched all around the considerable length of the bay, so although there were a lot of people, it wasn't crowded. After choosing a suitable site, I set up the beach umbrella and the windbreak, then put down a large blanket for us to sit on. Connor asked why we needed a windbreak when there was only a slight breeze.
"Well, if there's more of a wind later, we won't want to have to go back to the car," I said, "but the main reason is for privacy if we need to change our shorts."
"Why would we want to change our shorts?"
"Aren't you going into the sea?" I asked.
"No!" Liam replied quickly.
"I might go paddling," the older boy said, "but I won't go in deeper than my knees."
"And if you're up to your knees, a big wave will reach your shorts," I pointed out. "Anyway, I'm going to go out far enough to get my shorts wet, so I'll need to change."
"Okay," Connor said, apparently accepting my logic. "It's getting hot now, so can I take my shirt off?
"As long as you put sunscreen on the exposed skin."
"I won't take my shirt off," Liam declared.
"Will you put the cream on my back?" I said to the older boy, after taking off my own shirt and sitting on the blanket, Then you can get me or Liam to do yours."
Connor immediately took the tube of sunscreen from my hand and enthusiastically rubbed it into my back, then he stood in front of me so that I could do the same for him. Despite the fact that Liam had stated emphatically that he would be keeping his shirt on, he removed it and turned his back to me.
"Now me!" he said.
The rest of the afternoon was one of the most enjoyable times I'd ever spent on a beach. We played frisbee, explored rock pools, and went into the sea, with even Liam venturing up to his ankles. However, our forays into the water were only brief because the sea was quite cold. Then we got some ice creams, after which I relaxed in the shade of the beach umbrella and watched the boys building a sandcastle.
A little after four o'clock, I decided that it was time to start packing up and taking things back to the car. The boys moaned that they didn't want to leave yet, but I pointed out that we needed to make sure we had time for a meal before setting off home. I moved the windbreak into a circle, then Connor and I took turns changing into fresh shorts.
On the way back to the car, we stopped off at an outdoor water tap to rinse the salt and sand from our legs. Then we walked along the main street until the boys decided on a place where we could buy pizza and sit inside to eat it. They asked for fizzy pop, and I said it was okay as a special seaside treat if they agreed not to burp noisily in public.
During the drive back, we sang songs, but the boys became quiet as we got closer to home, where we arrived at a little after seven thirty. As we entered the driveway, I reminded them that they shouldn't boast to the other kids about how I took them to places or gave them things.
"But what if they ask?" Connor said.
"Of course, you can answer questions generally, but there's no need to go into details or boast about things," I said. "Think about how you'd feel if you had no brother living with you and no relatives who ever visited you. And then imagine if another kid in the house had two brothers who loved him, and they went on trips together. How would you feel if that kid kept showing off about the things he had that you didn't?"
"But I like telling people about you," Liam complained.
"You can tell David and Sarah," I replied, "or the kids at school. And if you want, and if Aunt Anne is available tomorrow, I'll call you, and you can tell her about your day at the beach."
When I got home, I was feeling too tired and lazy to unpack the car, but I found enough energy to phone Aunt Anne and asked if she'd be available the following day to chat with the boys. As expected, she was very happy with the idea and suggested I go round late in the afternoon. Then I could stay for dinner after she'd talked with my brothers.
The following afternoon, after setting up the connection to the boys' laptop, I sat back while they chatted with Aunt Anne. As it turned out, they were so eager to tell her about their seaside adventure that she hardly managed to get a word in. Given that she was usually the most talkative person in any group, having others almost monopolise a conversation must have been a relatively novel experience for her. However, she appeared to be more than happy to spend most of the time listening.
Uncle Geoffrey and I exchanged amused glances as we overheard what was being said. Before the call started, he'd offered me a gin and tonic, but I declined, saying that I'd wait until Aunt Anne had finished chatting with my brothers. Although I'd been given the task of monitoring the conversations my godmother had with the boys, it was clear that they were not intimidated in any way and that she was being very diplomatic, so I wasn't listening too closely.
I supposed that technically it wasn't up to me to decide on whether or not Aunt Anne should have direct phone contact with the boys. However, by giving me the job of monitoring the chats and any effect on my brothers, Rose and the foster carers were trusting me to decide what might or might not be appropriate. Therefore, I couldn't see any reason why there should be any restriction on contact apart from choosing reasonable times.
The last topic that the boys brought up was my graduation ceremony, and they asked Aunt Anne to take lots of photos and, if possible, a video. After she agreed to do that, they announced that it was nearly teatime, and the connection was closed. My godmother looked quite flushed and very happy.
"Your brothers really are amazing," she said to me. Turning to her husband, she added, "If only Lily and Richard could've known what wonderful grandchildren they had."
"Maybe they do know," her husband replied as he raised his eyes toward heaven.
"Yes, probably," she agreed with a smile. "In any case, now Paul can have his G&T, and we can finish making dinner."
"Aunt Anne," I said as I, too, stood up, "now that you and my brothers have got to know one another, I'll put in the boys' number on your phone. And later, I'll make sure that your number is listed as an allowed number on their phone."
"Some common sense at last!" she said exultantly.
"Of course, I'm sure that you'll limit calls to times that fit into their schedules," I said, feeling a little hurt by her comment. "They have school, set meal times, bedtimes, and so on. So I'll send you a copy of their schedule."
"Okay, okay," she replied irritably. "Remember that you're talking to an adult, not a little brother."
"I'm sure Paul didn't intend for it to sound like that, dear. He's just doing what Social Services requires," her husband soothed. "I'm starving, so let's make dinner."
While drinking our after-dinner coffee, we made plans for my graduation day, and it was decided that I should drive in my car because I knew my way around Barham and the university. Then, Aunt Anne brought up a totally different topic that took me by surprise.
"It's been months now since you found out that Mary was dead," she said. "Have you found out where she's buried yet?"
"Why are you asking now, after all this time?" I asked, beginning to feel uncomfortable.
"Because I didn't want to upset you. We understand how sensitive you are about graves," she replied. "You used to go to your grandad's grave with your gran, but I don't think you've been to his or hers since she died."
"I only went with Gran to keep her company," I said, "but I don't see any point in visiting graves."
"What about remembering people you've lost?" Uncle Geoffrey suggested.
"The house is full of memories of Gran and Grandad when they were alive and when we were all happy together," I pointed out. "There's no need to go to a grave where there are sad memories of them dying."
"Geoffrey and I would like to see where Mary's buried," Aunt Anne said, her expression making it clear that we'd have to agree to disagree on the subject of graves.
"Okay," I said and sighed. "I'll ask Rose about it."
Knowing that travelling to and from the graduation ceremony would take up most of the day, I spent a couple of days making sure that the house was ready for the Friday visit by Social Services. However, apart from a little cleaning and tidying, there really wasn't very much to do. I'd told Connor and Liam that the visit would be necessary before they would be allowed to stay overnight, and they were eager for me to get the formalities out of the way.
The graduation ceremony was as tedious and embarrassing as I'd expected, but my godparents enjoyed it. Aunt Anne took lots of photos and a couple of videos, and of course, she would have done the same even if Liam hadn't requested it. For me, getting the robes and dressing in them was the most stressful part of the whole day, but at least I got to talk with some of the people who'd been on my course. Apparently, I was the only one who didn't have a job lined up.
The following afternoon, my brothers called me as soon as they got home from school, demanding to know why I hadn't yet sent them the photos of my graduation. I told them that there were so many photos and that the videos were so large that it would be better if I brought them on a USB flash drive. They didn't try to hide their disappointment and told me that I'd better not forget to bring it with me.
On the day of the visit by Social Services, Rose arrived a little earlier than planned and announced that Charles had told her that he might be a little late. She also told me that he would be happy to use first names but that on no account should I call him Charlie.
"Would you like some tea and cake while we wait for him?" I asked.
"Normally, I wouldn 't , but is it your homemade cake?" she asked. "Sarah and David both said you made delicious cakes."
"I'm flattered," I replied, blushing, "and yes, it is homemade. It's a sort of Victoria sponge."
"Sort of?"
"Yes, I used quince jam instead of the standard strawberry."
As it turned out, she very much enjoyed my variation of the standard recipe. While we continued to wait for Charles, I decided to fulfil my promise to Aunt Anne. Although the topic might not have been a particularly appropriate accompaniment for tea and cake, there might not be a better time in the near future.
"Aunt Anne wanted to know where my mother is buried," I said, feeling a little embarrassed. "My godparents were close to Mary when she was growing up."
"Haven't you talked to your brothers about your mother?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, a few times, but mostly it was them telling me about her and what a good mother she was to them. Apart from Liam saying that she's gone to Heaven and that too much drinking alcohol can make you die, the subject of death and funerals didn't crop up. And I didn't want to be the one to bring it up."
"Your mother was cremated, so there's no grave," she said in a carefully neutral tone, "and there wasn't a funeral as such, just a memorial service paid for by your mother's co-workers."
"What happened to the ashes?" I asked because I was sure that Aunt Anne would want to know.
"Mary didn't leave a will, and at the time, we had no idea you existed. Of course we couldn't really ask two little boys what to do with the ashes. So at the end of the service, the ashes were scattered in the memorial garden at the cemetery."
"I presume my brothers were at the service and saw the ashes scattered?"
"Yes. Connor was crying, but I think Liam was still unable to process what was happening."
On behalf of my godmother, I asked for the location of the cemetery, and as I was writing down the information, the doorbell rang. As soon as I opened the door, Charles began apologising profusely for his late arrival. When he came into the hallway and saw Rose, he apologised to her, too.
"I'm so sorry to be late," he said to us both. Addressing Rose, he added, "I had to arrange an emergency foster placement."
Charles appeared to be in his mid-thirties, though his short brown hair was already receding. He was a little shorter than I was, and he was obviously considerably heavier, though certainly not fat. He was carrying a tablet device, unlike Rose, who had a more old-fashioned clipboard.
I offered him some tea and cake, but despite Rose's recommendation, he declined and said that he was already behind schedule. So we proceeded with a tour of the house and garden, with my visitors making notes as we went along. Charles, who used his tablet to take several photos, asked most of the questions.
Some questions were expected, such as where the boys' bedrooms would be and whether there would be anyone else living in the house. My old room already had a brand new bed and bedroom furniture. Some other questions, such as about the positions of smoke alarms and fire extinguishers, were not expected, but he was satisfied with my answers.
While we were upstairs, he tried to open the door that led onto the stairs up to the attic.
"What's behind this door, and why is it locked?" he asked.
"There are stairs up to the attic, and it's been locked for five or six years, ever since Grandad died. I've not been up there since I was a boy, and then it was full of dust and junk."
"Presumably you have a key," he said.
"Yes, probably in the office. Would you like me to try to find it?"
"No, I don't think there's any need just now," he said after a brief pause for thought, "but when the boys are here, it's probably best to keep it locked."
"Okay," I agreed, thinking that his use of 'when' rather than 'if' was a good sign.
"How do you keep such a large house so clean and tidy?" he asked when we went back downstairs.
"A cleaner comes in for two half-days per week," I replied, "and I usually clean up after myself as I go along."
"Is it always the same cleaner? Have you known them for long?"
"Yes, it's always been Mrs Thompson ever since I was a boy."
"Right," he said, "I think that's all. Rose has sent me copies of your references and the results of the background checks, so it shouldn't take too long for me to write my report and recommendations."
After Charles left, Rose showed no immediate signs of wishing to leave, and sensing that there was something she wished to discuss, I offered more tea and cake, which she accepted.
"You've got a lovely house, and from what you mentioned previously, I think that you inherited other assets from your grandparents," she said while the tea was brewing. She paused, looked me directly in the eyes and added, "Don't your brothers have a right to a share of that?"
"That's something I asked Uncle Geoffrey, erm, Mr Walker, who's a lawyer and the executor of Gran's will," I replied. "Briefly, his response was that because there was a will and they weren't mentioned in it, and our mother was specifically excluded, they don't inherit through her. He said that as neither they nor our mother were Gran's dependents, they have no legal right to anything."
First her eyebrows were raised in surprise, then they were lowered in a frown.
"But, they're your brothers."
"Of course you can consult with other lawyers," I said soothingly, "but before you do, I should tell you that although they may not have any legal claim, they are indeed my brothers, and so I feel that they have a moral claim. I've no doubt that Gran would have put them in her will if she'd known about them."
"So?"
"So I've already set up trust funds for each of them with about a third of the post-tax investment assets I inherited from Gran. They'll get access to the funds when they're nineteen."
"What about the house?" she asked, "I guess that isn't included as an investment asset?"
"This has been my home for my whole life and has been in our family for generations. I don't believe Gran wouldn't want me to have to move out if it was split and sold off."
"But it must have some considerable value," she said shrewdly.
"Of course, but to offset that, until they're nineteen, I'll be making sure that they want for nothing, and I'll cover all expenses such as student fees and suchlike if or when they go into higher education." I replied. "And I expect that will cost me the equivalent of what would have been their share of the house."
"You appear to have thought all this out very logically," she commented.
"Grandad always said that our hearts should decide what we want and our brains should decide how to get what we want. My heart tells me that my brothers should share in my good fortune, and my brain tells me that the best way to do that is to provide them with trust funds."
"Alright, but that still raises some questions. For example, how much is their share?"
"The funds were set up with eight hundred thousand, but by the time they're nineteen, it should be considerably more. Provided there are no stock market crashes or banking crises, it could increase by around twenty percent."
"Each?" she said, the rise in the pitch of her voice and her raised eyebrows showing her surprise.
"Yes," I confirmed. "But I want to ask you for a big favour. Please don't tell my brothers or anyone else unless you think it's essential for the boys' wellbeing."
"Why ever not?"
"For the same reason that my grandparents didn't tell me about my inheritance and trust fund. It's best for them if they grow up to be independent and build their own careers; then the assets will be a nest egg, or a safety net, or payment for a house. In a worst-case scenario, if they know that they'll be getting a lot of money, they might build up debts with the intention of paying them off with the funds they expect to get."
"And why nineteen instead of, say, eighteen or twenty-one?"
"I was nineteen when I found out about my inheritance, and I felt I was mature enough then to deal with it, so I think that my brothers will be mature enough at the same age."
"I assume that you realise that even if you can keep it secret from them until Connor's nineteen, Liam will find out then, and he'll be only sixteen."
"Of course," I agreed and shrugged, "but no plan is perfect."
"And now the most important question. You said 'when they move in' and not 'if they move in'. What makes you say that?"
"They're my brothers, and it's right that where possible, family should be together. After just a few months we already have a strong bond. I want to be with them, and they've already said more than once that they wish they could live here," I replied. "Also, although she didn't leave a will, I think our mother would have wanted them to live in her old home with me."
"What makes you say that? After all, this is the place she apparently ran away from."
"Whatever she ran away from, I doubt it was the building. Maybe she wanted to get away from my grandparents or my father, but they're not around anymore. Also, as you pointed out to me previously, my mother put Gran down as her next of kin. So it would be reasonable to think that she intended that if anything happened to her, Gran would take care of Liam and Connor. With Gran dead, I believe that our mother would've wanted me to care for them. And as you can see, I can provide them with a good home."
"There's more to a good home than a nice house and plenty of money."
"Yes, the most important thing of all is security and knowing that you belong and that you're loved. David and Sarah are great foster carers, but they have to balance the needs of all the children they care for. If Connor and Liam were living with me, then their wellbeing would have absolute priority."
"And that is where we would have reservations," she replied, frowning. "You're a single young person. Who cares for the boys if you're sick or injured? Two children are a lot of work for a single person. What if both of them need you for different things at the same time? For example, who takes care of one child if you need to take the other for medical treatment?"
I started to respond to her, but she raised her hand and continued.
"You're young, and it will be about eleven years before Liam is independent. During that time, you'll probably want to find a relationship. If you don't find one, maybe you'll feel you're missing out and will resent the boys. If you do find one, maybe that person won't want to be involved with caring for your brothers, and maybe you'll have to make a choice…"
"I'll always choose my brothers!" I interrupted her.
"As you said, though, it's the heart that chooses what you want."
"And my heart has already chosen my brothers," I insisted. Getting the impression that she wasn't taking me seriously enough, I continued, "When you told me that I had brothers, I accepted it intellectually as just a piece of information. Then when I talked with them and saw them, there was the beginning of an emotional bond.
"Anyway, maybe I've told you all that before. But at the risk of you thinking I'm crazy, I'll tell you something else. When I met them in person and got physically close to them, I recognised deep down that they were family.
"Maybe it's something biological like pheromones," I continued after a brief pause to collect my thoughts," but I think my brothers, especially Liam, may also recognise me like that. Anyway, now it's not just my duty to care for them, but I feel a need to care for them."
"I have children, so I think I understand how you feel," she said sympathetically, "but we need to consider practical matters. For example, caring for the boys will take up most of your time, and although it seems you don't need a career for income, when the children grow up and go off to live their own lives, you may wish that you'd kept your career."
"Believe it or not," I said, "most of your points are things that I've already thought about."
"Oh, I do indeed believe it," she said with a smile, "but thinking about problems and finding solutions aren't the same thing."
"Most of the potential problems you raise could be applied to any single parent, including their mother," I replied. "If Mary were here, would you prevent her from keeping her children?"
"You're not their mother."
"But I'm their brother and their only known blood relative. And I love them."
"As I believe we discussed in the past, sometimes love alone isn't enough."
"Okay," I replied, rising to her challenge, "if I'm temporarily out of action, then my godparents have already said they can stand in for me, and they've agreed to any necessary background checks. If I'm permanently out of action, which is hopefully unlikely, then my brothers would be no worse off than they are now.
"In fact, if I die, they'd inherit everything immediately and be financially better off than they would be when they're nineteen." I paused and, maintaining a deadly serious expression, I continued, "Actually, you'd better not tell them that, or I might suddenly have an unexpected accident."
"Paul!" she protested, apparently shocked by my words.
"Just joking," I said and grinned mischievously.
"It's not funny," she replied, frowning.
"As for my career," I continued, "at the moment I'm not sure what that might be. If it turns out to follow on from my degree, then I can work from home or even part-time, especially as my brothers will be at school most days. Also, to be honest, I don't know if my long-term future will even be in computing. For example, my recent experiences have got me interested in child psychology.
"Finally," I concluded, "my ultimate goal is to adopt my brothers, and I hope that you'd support me in that."
"We'll need to see about that," she said noncommittally. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but it seems to me that up to now, there haven't been many problems that you couldn't solve with your intelligence, your charm, or with money, but they can't fix all problems, and some problems have no solutions."
"I know that," I replied. "Sometimes you lose people you love, and there's nothing you can do. But surely that's no reason to stop trying."
"Of course not. However, it means that you shouldn't be too disappointed if you fail, and you should take precautions to prevent any failures from hurting others, especially the children."
"Please believe me that I'd never do anything to make them feel insecure."
"I do believe you. Absolutely. But I wondered if your lack of experience with children might mean you hadn't considered all the consequences for your brothers of the choices you make."
"It sounds like you wouldn't support the idea of me trying to adopt them," I replied.
"I didn't say that, and I'm not making any recommendations," she said in a cautious, formal tone. "I merely put forward the facts of the situation. What conclusion you draw is up to you."
I remained silent for a few seconds, mentally digesting what she'd said. Although I felt a little dejected, I was also determined. Rose eventually broke the silence.
"When you've had time to think about it and have considered all the implications for your brothers as well as yourself," she said, "if you still want to try to adopt them, you should contact Charles and ask him to put you in touch with an appropriate agency."
"Okay, thanks for the advice."
"What advice?" she said, raising her eyebrows. Standing up, she added, "Regarding overnight stays by your brothers, I'll let you know the results of this home visit as soon as I can."
That evening I phoned Aunt Anne and told her that there was no grave for Mary and that her ashes had been scattered in a memorial garden. As I'd expected, she wanted to know where the cemetery was, and I wasn't surprised when she said that she and her husband would probably visit it soon. However, I was a little shocked when she suggested that we three brothers should go with them, and my response was deliberately noncommittal.
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