âHow about the bar and a beer?â
âA beer?â
âI really appreciate the help youâve been giving Elizabeth with those old papers of Albertâs. The least I can do is buy you a drink.â
âThank you, Richard. Thatâs a great idea.â
âThis roundâs on me.â
*****
âSo, are you finding anything of interest in that appalling pile of garbage from Elizabethâs old uncle?â
Michael muses into his glass. âDepends what youâre looking for I suppose, but itâs actually quite interesting, seeing someone elseâs life like this. Once you get past thirty-year-old bus tickets, you find the things that really tell you something.â
âLike what?â
âDid you know he was a bankrupt?â
âWas he nowâ¦â
Wonder if Elizabeth knew thatâ¦.
ââ¦. That could explain a lot. What little I saw of him was mainly complaints that things werenât as they should be, and everything was better in his day.â
âMind youâ¦.â Michael gulp at his beer. ââ¦. he must have recovered from it. At least enough to have owned his own home when he died.â
âAh-ah.â I shake my head. âThat house came from his second marriage. His first wife left him apparently. There was talk in the family that he married the second one because she was quite well-
off.â
Michael regards me from over his glass. âIt doesnât sound as though you liked him much?â
âWell, the old boy didn't like me much either. Not that he had much to say. He was already pretty addled by the time I first met him. When she went to visit him, Iâd just drop Elizabeth off, and return a couple of hours later to collect her. And since I was paying his care bills by then, it hardly mattered what he thought of me. Elizabeth knew I was doing the right thing by him and thatâs all that matters to me.â
Michael nods, apparently deep in thought.
Time to change the subjectâ¦.
âSo how are the wedding plans coming along?â
He is immediately more cheerful. âAh, fine. Bethâs been a brilliant help. She comes up with all kinds of things that James and I would missâ¦. You knowâ¦. Girl thingsâ¦. I think Charlotte would be completely out of her depth without her.â
âDid she want a big wedding?â
âJames wanted it for her. And in fairness, so do I.â
âAnd for yourself, of course.â
He smiles. âOf course. You only do this kind of thing once.â
Letâs hope thatâs trueâ¦.
I jerk a thumb back to the dining room. âWhatâs with James and Ben? They donât get on?â
âBen? Oh, he's a miserable bastard.â Michael stares into his empty glass, then offers it to the barman for a refill. âI shouldn't say it about my own brother, but he is. He lives too much in the world of how it ought to be and not enough in the world as it is. Plus, right now, he's sulking because he thinks he should have been my Best Man.â
I wait until the barman has passed across the fresh glass and retreated along the bar. In a lowered voice, âI assume Ben doesn't know about you and James having met in the clubs?â
He snorts. âYou've got to be kidding. No, it's not something I would ever tell him.â
âAnd your, um, arrangement over Charlotte?â
He rubs his nose. âI'll tackle that one in time.â Then sucking an inch from the top of the glass, âA good part of the problem is Benâs own background. He was never what youâd call the sunny sort, but he wasnât too bad until his own marriage went overboard.â
âBen was married?â
âBriefly, yes. But he found out that his wife had been playing away from home with his best friend. The was the end of the marriageâ¦.â
âI can imagine.â
ââ¦. and itâs left him with a chip on his shoulder and a misplaced sense of protectiveness towards me.â
He takes the rest of the glass in one long swallow, then wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. âYou were right. I needed that. Thanks, Richard.â
âMy pleasure.â
âNow, back to work.â He turns to head for the door. âLetâs see if I can put together a seating plan that wonât result in the meltdown of civilisation as we know it.â
*****