Date: Thu, 25 Mar 2004 20:20:44 -0000
From: Drew Hunt <drew.hunt@blueyonder.co.uk>
Subject: The House On The Hill 6

For the full disclaimer, see earlier chapters.  Basically don't copy, don't
read if you shouldn't and don't be under the misapprehension that it's
real, cause it isn't.

John and Lars have done their usual magic on this chapter.

Chapter 6

Surfacing from his alcohol-induced doze, Carl groaned at the headache and
parched mouth that he'd developed.  Robbie was still hugging him round the
chest, his head resting in the crook of Carl's left shoulder.  Looking down
at his brown haired friend, Carl thought the position just seemed so
comfortable, so natural.  Carl couldn't put words to his feelings; he just
felt a deep sense of peace at their situation.  However his earlier moan
had caused Robbie to stir, he lifted his head and looked into the face of
his boyhood love.  Just for a moment, Carl saw a look in Robbie's eyes that
he couldn't quite comprehend.  Then Robbie's natural guard went up, and he
resumed his much practised neutral expression.  Lifting himself from the
far too comfortable embrace of his friend, Robbie sat up and rubbed the
sleep from his eyes.

Carl was still mulling over that first glance that Robbie had given him.
It was so warm and soft; it caused something within him to shift.  However
there were other bodily functions which indicated their need to be
satisfied, and they were of a much more pressing nature.

"Need the loo."  Carl said heading for the door.

"There's some aspirin in the bathroom cabinet, too." Robbie said watching
the beautifully filled-out seat of Carl's retreating jeans.

"Thanks."

Ben had observed the interplay between the two adults.  He allowed himself
a secret smile, although things hadn't quite gone to plan, he hoped that
they were still heading in the right direction.  'Perhaps this will take a
little longer than I thought, but it will work out, I just know it will.'
He told himself.

"You okay, Ben?"  Robbie asked spying the youngster sitting in one of the
armchairs, holding a book in his hand, but not reading it.

"Yeah Rob, great."

"Sorry about us two old ones falling asleep on you like that.  One of the
downsides to over-imbibing, I'm afraid."

"I think it does dad good to let his hair down now and again.  He doesn't
get the chance very often."

Robbie smiled.

After relieving himself, Carl splashed some cold water onto his face,
hoping it would shock him back into reality.  He then rejoined the others
in the drawing room.

Robbie decided he too needed to relieve himself.  It was great to see the
toilet seat still up.  Sharing a house with a woman, Robbie always had to
lift the seat before peeing.  The insignificant action of leaving the seat
up held great significance for him.  It further compounded his loneliness,
the fact that he wasn't sharing his life with another man.  Robbie forced
to the front of his mind the fact that he'd have the most welcome company
of Ben for the next few weeks; this improved his mood enormously.

Once he'd made his way back into the Drawing room, Robbie brought up the
subject of their sleeping arrangements.  "Carl, if you want to stay in the
blue room tonight, then you could have Ben sleep in the old nursery
opposite."  Carl of course knew which rooms his friend was talking about,
though Ben, who hadn't visited the upstairs, felt a little indignant about
having to sleep in a nursery.

"Hey, I'm not a baby anymore, you know."

Robbie laughed.  "No, sweetheart, I know you aren't.  Come upstairs with me
and I'll show you."  The three walked up the stairs, Ben taking note of the
recently re-varnished banisters, commenting on how good they looked.

"Okay, this is, or more exactly was the nursery."  Robbie said opening a
white painted door that, like all the other doors on the upper floor, had
nine recessed panels in it.

Ben stepped in and basically saw an ordinary but spacious bedroom.  It had
a double bed, a little higher off the ground than his own, but after having
a few bounces on it, much to Robbie's amusement and Carl's chagrin, Ben
thought it most comfortable.  The pale evening light came in through a
square window which was framed by a pair of curtains, maybe a little
flowery for Ben's taste, but pleasant none the less.  The walls were
papered in a fairly neutral leaf pattern with a very light brown
background.  The room came equipped with the expected bedside tables,
wardrobe and chest of drawers, made from reclaimed pine.  All in all Ben
really liked the room.

"We removed all the Winnie the Pooh freezes from the walls and totally
redecorated the place when my sister Beatrice grew up.  And as you can see,
you won't be sleeping in a cot, either."

Ben dropped his eyes to the plain light grey carpet.  "Yeah, um, sorry."

"It's okay Ben, I can remember being twelve, too.  Well, just about."
Robbie chuckled. "And I didn't like being thought of as a kid, either.
It's strange, I always used to tell anyone who'd listen, that I was
actually twelve and a half or whatever it was, all in an effort to try and
make myself sound a little older.  Now at thirty-two, I wish I could knock
the odd year off."

"Oh, you and dad aren't old!"

"Carl, if you ever get sick of him, please give me first refusal."  Robbie
said only half in jest.

"Oh, I think I'll keep him around for a bit longer."  Carl said, grateful
again for seeing the easy interplay between his son and his friend.

"I'll sort out some sheets and a quilt for you later."  Robbie said,
looking at the mattress that was covered only by a sheet.

The two then went across the landing to the blue room.  The décor consisted
of a rich blue carpet, with a white arrowhead motif woven into it.  The
deep pile felt great below their feet.  The tied back curtains were made
from rich dark blue velvet.  The walls were papered in pale blue.  Although
there were some blue pillowslips and quilt covers specially bought for the
room, Robbie didn't know where Sarah had put them, so Carl would have to
make do with a green set.  Carl admitted that the lack of colour
co-ordination wouldn't bother him in the least.  Robbie had to admit such
trivialities didn't concern him either, but he said that Sarah wouldn't be
pleased when she learned that a guest had stopped in the room and hadn't
been given the correct bedding.

The three went back downstairs. Ben said he wanted to listen to a pop music
station on the radio, as both Carl and Robbie still had a headache, they
persuaded him to listen via headphones.  Robbie was doubly grateful, as he
didn't like pop music, although he had a couple of Abba CDs that he would
never admit to possessing.

"Aww, I won't be able to hear you talk about me."  Ben wined.

"What makes you think we'd want to talk about you, anyway?"  Carl said
lightly cuffing Ben on the ear.

"Cause I'm such a brilliant kid, that's why."  Ben treated the others to a
wide grin.

As Ben settled himself into an armchair with a borrowed personal stereo,
Carl and Robbie removed themselves back to the couch.  Robbie ached to hug
and be hugged by Carl again.  Even though he didn't consciously think it,
Carl wouldn't have objected to Robbie adopting such a position.  However,
both sat fairly close to one another but they kept a comfortable distance
between them.

Carl told Robbie more about the job he'd been offered on the building site
in Boroughton, Robbie again urged his friend to accept.  Carl, after
putting up a token protest, agreed that he would.  The two then went on to
talk about what Robbie would do with Ben during the holidays.

"Well, I guess we could take a few day trips to the coast, there's always
plenty of amusement arcades and the like.  I remember I used to like
playing the slot machines when I was Ben's age."

Carl's mind immediately thought of the expense of such visits.  His concern
must have shown on his face.

"What's wrong, Car?"

"Oh nothing."  Carl didn't want to say that he couldn't really afford to
fund such adventures.

"Are you sure?"  Robbie persisted.

"Well, erm, Ben, he hasn't been able to go into many amusement arcades in
the past..." Carl trailed off.

"Sorry, of course.  Look, Car, I don't want to come across as a kind of
rich uncle spoiling his nephew, nor do I want to make you feel
uncomfortable.  Carl, I promise I won't go overboard, but will you let me
take him on trips like that, and allow me to fund them?  As I said, I won't
let things get out of hand, I promise."

Carl couldn't fail to notice the earnest and pleading expression on his
friend's face.  He realised that Robbie would probably get as much out of
their time together as Ben.  Carl smiled.  "Yeah, sorry mate, of course you
can take him to the slot machines and stuff like that.  I want him, and you
of course, to have fun, and today that often involves spending money.  I
wish I could do more for him myself but..."

"Carl, you've brought that kid up single-handed, and though I'm absolutely
no judge of good parenting, you've made a brilliant job of it.  You've made
Ben into a polite and well adjusted boy, of whom anyone would be proud."
Robbie said squeezing his friend's arm.

"I've been lucky, Ben's always been a great kid, and I've never really had
much trouble from him."

The two then fell into a comfortable silence.  Carl eventually looked up at
the clock on the mantelpiece.  He was amazed to discover that it was
already 8 pm.  He'd spent the whole day with his friend, and the time had
simply flown by.  Looking further up the wall, Carl took in the picture,
which had pride of place in the room.

"I've always liked that painting.  It's a Lowry isn't it?"

"Yeah."  Robbie admitted.  "I've always liked his work, particularly the
ones like that one.  All those industrial landscapes with the famous
match-stick men."

"Not to mention the match-stick cats and dogs."  Carl grinned remembering
the song that had brought Lowry's work back into the public consciousness.

"Yeah."  Robbie smiled.  "It's only a print though. It was one of dad's
favourite pictures.  He wasn't all that interested in art, and frankly I'm
not either, but there's just something about Lowry's work that interests
me.  He showed us the pollution and the greyness that marked the daily
grind for millions of ordinary working class people."

Carl knew that Robbie was going off on another of his socialist
hobbyhorses.  Carl spoke up "I can see the grimy streets, and the men
walking with bent backs.  As you know my family came from the very cobbled
streets of Salford that he painted.  Though I have to say that the smoking
factory chimneys and the choking smog that you see up there, don't exist
anymore.  Whenever I go back to visit my aunts and uncles now, all I see
are tower-blocks."

"Well, northern industrial Britain has merely swapped one set of depressing
images for another."  Robbie continued to warm to his theme.  "Don't forget
Lowry painted scenes from after the Wall Street crash to the time just
before the economic boom of the 50's.  Though of course nowadays parts of
Salford, particularly the Quays are the 'in place' to live since they've
been tarted up."

"Yeah mate, you're right..." Carl said.

"It pains me that my ancestors were responsible for such grimy scenes, they
owned a factory not dissimilar to that one."  Robbie pointed up at the
picture.  "My family were the cause of people like that woman having to
kneel on the step scrubbing it clean, no doubt if Lowry had zeroed in on
her, we'd see her work-worn hands reddened with toil.  We'd see her back
bent from the burden she carried on it.  It wouldn't surprise me if her
eyesight wasn't ruined through having to constantly mend torn clothing in
weak lamp light, because her family didn't have the money to purchase new
clothes."

"Rob, stop it!  You said your family was responsible for their poverty,
that's rubbish, your family provided jobs for those people.  Okay, the
workers didn't earn all that much, but if they'd been paid more, then the
mills wouldn't have been as competitive."

"I think they could have paid them more, how do you think my family got the
money to build this place?"

This was an argument the two had had countless times before.  Carl could
never convince Robbie that the money the Foster family once had, wouldn't
have gone very far if it were spread out amongst all the workers that had
been employed by them over the decades.  Carl knew that Robbie felt guilty
for the undoubted poverty of the working classes back then, but whilst his
friend's sentiments were honourable, they weren't all that realistic.

Carl was always amused that he tried to defend Robbie's family's position,
when he had come from the kind of working class stock, which Robbie was
trying to defend.  The two always seemed to be batting for the others
families.

"Would you mind if I had a cup of coffee, I could really use one mate?"
Carl said; he did need the coffee, but he also wanted to get Robbie focused
away from his current obsession.  Carl knew there was no way the two of
them would ever come to an agreement.

"Ah, yeah, sorry Car, I get too carried away.  Next time I do, just whack
me over the head with a piece of two by four."

Carl smiled, he'd do nothing of the sort, but he appreciated the fact that
his friend had realised that he'd been going on a bit.  "God, this all
reminds me of when we were younger."

"Yeah, I know."  Robbie smiled at the remembered discussions the pair used
to have.  "Come on then, let's go into the kitchen."  Robbie said standing
up and approaching the chair in which Ben had been sitting.  The music had
drowned out their conversation, but Ben had been keeping a close watch on
how the two men had been interacting.  "Would you like a drink Ben?"

"Erm, yeah, thanks."  Ben took off the headphones and followed the men into
the kitchen.

* * * * *

Waking up the next morning, Robbie smiled. He had been thinking of the
kinds of places that he'd like to take Ben.  Robbie's first instinct was to
spoil him rotten, he knew he'd never have a son of his own.  To be truthful
Robbie had never really been the paternal type, but there was just
something about Ben which made him want to take him up in his arms, love
him and protect him from all the potential hurts out there in the world.

After doing his thing in the bathroom, then dressing in casual clothes,
Robbie went downstairs to the kitchen.  He found Carl in there looking into
the fridge.

"Morning Car, sleep well?"

"Oh, morning Rob, yeah not bad."

"Are you after something for breakfast?"

"Yeah."  Carl said looking at the well-stocked fridge.

Remembering Ben's comments of the other day about Carl not being a good
cook, Robbie asked if he could make breakfast for him.

"Well, um, I don't want to put you out."

"It's hardly putting me out, I've got to eat myself, haven't I?"

"Yeah, sorry."  Carl ducked his head.  Robbie loved Carl's shy blush
routine.

The two decided to have scrambled eggs, which Robbie began to prepare.

"So what have you got on today?"  Robbie asked once they were both sat at
the kitchen table.  It seemed that Ben liked a lie in on a Sunday morning.
Carl had volunteered to go up and rouse him, but Robbie insisted that the
lad be left to enjoy his sleep.

"Oh, starting tomorrow I've got a few days putting in a new kitchen for
three brothers who share a house in town.  Since their mother left the
family home after getting re-married, they kind of run the place
themselves.

"Sounds like a recipe for disaster.  Three brothers living in the same
house."

"Yeah, well I don't know.  I got a call the other week from the eldest
brother asking if I'd do the job.  Their kitchen is all in flat packs.
I've got to rip the old one out first, then build the new one.  I was going
to pop round this morning just to see if everything would be set up for me
to start tomorrow."

"Oh right.  I'd have thought three guys could have done the job
themselves."

"Yeah, me too, but two of them work full time, and I kind of got the
impression that they had a bit of money, too.  The flat pack units they've
bought certainly weren't cheap."

Robbie remembered that his dad had got in a carpenter and had the units in
their kitchen made to measure, he didn't pass this on though.

"And of course I've got to go over to mum and dad's for Sunday lunch."
Carl said before gnawing on a piece of toast.  Once he'd swallowed he
asked.  "And what about your day?"

"Not much really, a bit of reading, a swim, then I better get the place
ship shape for Sarah's return.  I've got to meet her train at five this
afternoon.  Though with it being Sunday, goodness knows when the thing will
arrive."

"Why don't you come round to mum's for lunch?  I know she'd love to see you
again."

"Oh right, erm, thanks."  Robbie wasn't sure.  He liked Nora Power's well
enough, she always made him welcome on the fairly rare occasions when the
two had met up at Carl's house.  The majority of the time the two tended to
come to Robbie's though.  Robbie wasn't sure if Nora would make a comment
about why the two had split up.  She once gave Robbie a stern look when
their paths had crossed not long after Robbie had severed the friendship
with Carl.

"I know she's no Delia Smith in the cookery department, but I don't think
she'll end up poisoning you."  Carl said in response to Robbie's
hesitation.

"Sorry Car, yeah I'd love to come to lunch with you.  I was just planning a
few cold meat sandwiches, but it'd be great to see your mum and dad again."

Once the two had finished their leisurely breakfast, a blurry-eyed Ben came
in.

"You're too late for any food, son."  Carl told him.

"Sokay."  Ben said reaching for the pitcher of orange juice.

"Rubbish, if you want anything, love, I'll cook it for you."  Robbie said
mussing up Ben's already untidy hair.

"Oh, I'll just have a bit of cold cereal then, if that's okay."

Robbie showed him what was on offer, unfortunately Sarah and Robbie didn't
have any of the highly sugared cereals that Ben normally ate, he finally
settled for a bowl of Corn Flakes.  Robbie promised that he'd get in some
of Ben's favourites for the next time he stopped over.

* * * * *

Once Carl and Ben had departed, Robbie got on with straightening out the
house.  Not that it took too long.  Even though Sarah was meant to be the
cook and housekeeper, Robbie didn't want her to be faced with the task.
Sarah hadn't yet found anyone whom she trusted enough to assist her.

After putting the bedding in the washing machine, Robbie thought he'd
earned a swim.  He got out the cassette player again, he thought about
having a music system put into the pool room, but rejected it as being too
extravagant.  The little player did a good enough job.  After doing a few
laps, Robbie settled down on his back on the air mattress and relaxed.

However, it soon became time for him to get ready to go to Carl's parents'
house for Sunday dinner.  He'd asked Carl before he and Ben left if he'd
need to take any ant-acid tablets before hand.  Ben giggled, but Carl
assured him that he'd be okay.

Picking something smart but casual from his wardrobe, Robbie dressed,
musing to himself that he hadn't inherited the gay gene for clothes
shopping.  Robbie always waited till he had to buy new clothes, and then
he'd go to a one-stop shop and buy several of everything he needed.  That
way he got the whole unpleasant business over with in one fell swoop.  He
chose a buttoned down oxford shirt, a dark brown pair of Chinos and a pair
of brown loafers.  He conceded that his favourite colour was brown, though
it never seemed to occupy his thoughts overmuch.  He wondered what he'd end
up wearing if he ever went on one of those makeover programmes, which
seemed to form a staple of daytime TV.  He winced at the thought of
appearing on such a show.

Getting into his car, Robbie thought that maybe a BMW wasn't really the
right car for his new environment.  It wasn't overly flashy, but maybe a
four-wheel drive vehicle would be more appropriate.  Sometimes the winters
could be rather severe in that part of Lancashire, and he wanted to be
prepared.  "Maybe I can take Ben with me to have a look at new cars.  I
promised Carl I wouldn't spend much on the lad, and I won't.  If he's like
most kids, he'll love looking at all the vehicles on view."  Though Robbie
had never been one of those boys who showed that much interest in cars.  He
viewed them as merely a way of getting oneself from a to b.

Pulling up outside the Powers' house, Robbie remembered that he hadn't
brought a bottle of wine with him.  Then he realised that the Powers'
weren't wine drinkers.  He'd lived a different lifestyle for the past 14 or
so years; he'd have to readjust.  Robbie knew that he felt most comfortable
surrounded by good honest folk with no pretensions to being something that
they weren't.

"Come in, love."  Nora, a woman in her late fifties wearing her best Sunday
dress, with an apron stretched across her ample middle, said as she greeted
Robbie at the door.

When he'd been walking up their drive, he had wondered if he should knock
at the front or the back door.  When Robbie was a kid, he'd enjoyed the
privilege of going in via the back door that lead straight into the
kitchen; he would go in without having to knock, too.  However, Robbie knew
that with the rift that he and Carl had suffered, he felt that knocking
would be the right thing to do, but which door should he choose?  The back
door for familiar friends, or the front for more formal visitors?  Not
wanting to be formal, he opted for the back door, once he'd seen the broad
smile on Nora's face; he knew that everything would be okay.

"Hello Mrs Powers, it's great to see you again."

"Hello Robbie, good to see you too."  She welcomed him inside.  "The
dinner'll be a bit yet.  Stan's in the front room, go and talk to him if
you like.  You remember the way?"

"Yes Mrs Powers, I do.  How have you been keeping?"

"Oh, mustn't grumble."

Robbie wondered at why everyone adopted the custom of asking people how
they were doing or keeping.  The question always seemed to demand a
positive response, even if the person you'd addressed your comments to was
having a lousy day, you'd expect them to give a positive reply.  Robbie
remembered his great-grandmother on his mother's side.  She had always been
a cantankerous old besom.  If anyone asked Betty Jones how she was keeping,
she was likely to reply, "Embalming fluid.  What do you expect at my age?"
Robbie had loved his great-grandmother dearly.

"Hello, Mr Powers."  Robbie said spying the man sitting in the corner
armchair watching the television with the sound turned up.  He'd forgotten
that Stan was rather hard of hearing, and after his comment had gone
unanswered, he stepped in front of the set and reissued his greeting at a
louder volume.

"Oh, it's young Robbie."  He said.

"Stan, turn off that telly, it's not right you having it on when we've got
company."  Nora had slipped in from the kitchen wiping her hands on her
apron.  She took the remote from her husbands shaking hands and switched
off the set.

"That's better, we can hear ourselves think now."  Nora said retreating
back to her kitchen.

After both Robbie and Stan had gone through the expected ritual of asking
after one another's health, despite Stan's deafness and obvious shakes due
to the Parkinson's, he had told Robbie that he was "Champion."

Robbie perched himself on a footstool near Stan; he had to sit close in
order to be heard.  He took a brief look around the room.  As far as he
could judge, the place hadn't altered in the least.  The same clock stood
on the mantle-piece, Robbie checked it against his wrist-watch, 'Yep, it's
still set to run a quarter of an hour fast.' He said to himself.  Robbie
remembered asking the Powers once why the clock didn't show the correct
time.  They'd told him that if they looked at the clock, needing to be
somewhere at a particular time, they'd always have a quarter of an hour to
play with.  Robbie at the age of thirteen could pick several holes in that
argument, but he was gratified to see that the Powers still stuck to their
original beliefs.  Robbie took in the firm, overstuffed furniture, lace
antimacassars draped over the back of the settee.  No, nothing in the room
had changed.

"Carl has been doing some work for me over the past few weeks."  Robbie
said to Stan.

"Yes, I know.  I'm sure he's done a grand job, too."

"Oh yes, he has, it all looks really smart now."

Robbie knew that Stan had only two topics of conversation; he didn't know
much about joinery, and knew even less about sport.  So he was rather
grateful that he didn't have to try and invent further things to say,
because just then Ben and Carl arrived.  Ben climbed into his grandfather's
lap and treated the big man to a hug.

"I'm staying with Rob for some of my summer holidays, granddad."

"Oh, that'll be grand for you love.  You be a good boy for him."

"Oh I will, granddad."

Carl then came over and squeezed his dad's shoulder in greeting.  It was
obvious to Robbie that both men felt uncomfortable about outward displays
of affection to one another.

After about twenty minutes of conversation, Nora called out that the dinner
was ready.  They all made their way into the dining room, a place which
Robbie could never remember entering previously.  The Powers family always
ate in the kitchen.  Robbie could hardly fail to notice the running type
gait which Stan had as he made his way to the table.  As they took their
places Robbie also saw that the best china had been put out just for his
benefit.  He felt rather humbled that they were laying out the red carpet
for someone they hadn't seen in well over a decade.

"Sorry we were a bit late, mum.  I was just seeing if it was okay to start
my next job tomorrow."

"That's alright Carl, son, I didn't put the puddings in until you arrived
anyway."

"Thanks."  Then to his dad Carl said "I'm putting in a new kitchen for
Chris Blake and his brothers."

"He's been the best captain of the Raiders we've had in years."

Even Robbie knew that the Greenville Raiders were the local amateur Rugby
League team.

"Yeah, I've got to gut out their old kitchen first, and then build up the
units that are all in flat packs in their garage.  They'll have a good
set-up once it's all finished, all solid wood, and properly seasoned, too."

"I thought there were only two Blake brothers?"  Stan said after chewing a
huge wedge of Yorkshire pudding.

"Well I think the third one is adopted.  They didn't say.  He's called
Danny, black spiky hair, bit wiry.  He's the scrum half."

"Oh yeah, good runner he is."  Stan said placing him in his mind.  "Didn't
know he'd got adopted though."

"Well, I'm not sure if it was a proper adoption, he's over eighteen
anyway."

The rest of the meal was eaten with Carl and Stan discussing various
aspects of his upcoming job.  Carl appreciated his dad's vast knowledge,
but he didn't really need all the advice.  He'd put in plenty of kitchens
in the past, but rather than upset his father, he allowed him to continue
to tell him what he already knew.

As Ben had predicted, the roast beef was overcooked.  Robbie, whilst not a
fan of meat served rare, had to really hack at the slabs of cremated cow
flesh that had been put on his plate.  Carl, who had carved the joint, also
seemed to be struggling.  He told his dad that he'd sharpen the carving
knife after dinner, though everyone with the exception of Nora knew that it
wasn't the knife that had been at fault.

"Once I've sidened these plates, I'll open a couple of tins of pineapple
chunks for our afters.  I think I've got a couple of tins of cream in the
pantry as well."  Nora said standing up.

Robbie hadn't heard the term 'siden meaning clear away, for years.  He also
smiled at Nora using tinned pineapple.  She could have gotten fresh from
the supermarket, and it would have probably worked out cheaper, too, but
the old-fashioned tradition of opening a tin of fruit on a Sunday had to be
observed.  If it hadn't been pineapple, Robbie would have expected tinned
peaches instead.

When Nora had placed the bowls of fruit swimming in their sugar syrup in
front of her diners, Robbie began to chew the rather tough flesh.  'Yes,
fresh pineapple would have tasted better, too.'

Once everyone had had their fill, Ben had asked for and been given a second
bowl, Robbie offered to help Nora with the washing up.  He knew that he was
expected to ask, but he was just as certain that his offer would be
rejected.  Another long remembered ritual had just been played out.  Though
Carl stood his ground and went into the kitchen to help his mother with the
dishes despite her protests.  Stan then reached into a pocket and got out
his pipe.  He pushed in a quantity of tobacco, lit it and puffed away.  The
smoke made Robbie's eyes water.  Robbie heard a piece of crockery smashing
to the ground.  He used it as an excuse to escape the stinging tobacco
smoke.

"Sorry, mum, it just slipped."  Carl said getting down on his knees and
picking up the broken pieces.

"Oh, it's alright, love, that plate had a chip in it anyway."  Robbie knew
that as the chief guest, he wouldn't have been given the chipped plate.  No
doubt Nora had eaten from it.

"Yeah, but mum, it was the service you got when you and dad got married."

"Oh, it's only a plate, love.  It's not the first one to get broken.
Though now I've only got five left.  I had eight when we started."

Robbie reached over and examined one of the dried plates.  "Have you lost
anything else from the dinner service, Mrs Powers?"

"Oh Robbie, please call me Nora.  I think you're old enough to do it now.
And yes, the handle of the gravy boat came off a few years back, and thanks
to Carl over there, the big serving platter also got smashed."

Carl remembered the incident clearly.  He had rushed into the kitchen full
of youthful exuberance, cannoning into his mother, who had just washed the
large plate. "Yeah, sorry mum." Carl said apologising yet again for the
childhood misdemeanour.

"Oh it's alright, Carl, it happened years ago."

Carl could still remember the belting his dad had given him 'for being so
clumsy'.

"Well, I think that's all I've lost.  Not bad really considering I've had
it for nee on forty years."

"Oh yeah, it's your Ruby wedding anniversary this October, isn't it?"  Carl
questioned.

"Yes, 40 years, it's a lifetime."

Carl mused that he and Maureen had only lasted a tenth of that time.  He
was aware that his mum and dad's marriage hadn't been an easy one.  His dad
was a pretty strong-willed man, who had insisted on always getting his own
way.  His mother for the most part had accepted her lot, and just got on
with life.  The thought of divorce had never entered her head.

Once the washing up had been completed, and the dinner service removed back
to the china cabinet in the dining room, Robbie said that he had better be
making a move.

"Could I use your toilet before I go, Nora?"

"Of course, love.  It's upstairs, you remember the way?"

Robbie smiled.  "Yes, thanks."  Robbie went into the hallway; the Powers
still had the same rich red carpet on the floor, though it had seen better
days, it was still quite serviceable.  After climbing the steep stairs and
taking the second door on the left, Robbie entered the tiny bathroom.
After using the toilet, Robbie pulled on the lever.  The toilet gave an
apologetic cough, but refused to flush.  He tried again with the same
result.  After washing his hands in the white enamel basin, he moved
towards the stubborn piece of plumbing to try for a third attempt.

"You've got to surprise it, love!"  Nora's voice drifted up from the
hallway.

Robbie wondered if he should try leaving the bathroom, and come back in
suddenly and shout, "Boo!" at the water closet.  He smiled at the thought.
He had known what Nora had meant.  He grasped hold of the lever and gave it
a sharp downward tug.  Mercifully, the thing flushed.

Going back downstairs, Robbie went first into the front room to find Stan
sitting in his chair watching the TV, he shouted his goodbye, and then he
went back into the kitchen where Nora was brewing a pot of tea.

"I'll have to get off to the railway station, Nora, but thank you very much
for inviting me."

"Oh, that's alright, love.  You'll have to come again soon."

"Thanks, I will."

* * * * *

For once, the train from Leeds was running on time.  Although Sarah was
thirsty, she absolutely refused to pay "the outrageous price for a pot of
tea" which the railway company were asking.  Sarah had really enjoyed the
weekend visit with her sister Dot.  The two had a mutual respect for one
another, though it was understood neither of them would ever speak of it.
Dot hadn't had the easiest of lives; she'd brought up two children almost
single-handedly, as her husband "was neither use nor ornament," as Dot
would invariably say to Jim's face.  Jim was hen-pecked; he knew it and
accepted it.  He wasn't a strong willed man, so when his and Dot's paths
had first crossed, and what passed for romance between them blossomed, Jim
knew he'd be looked after by the strong-willed woman.  Dot wore the
trousers in their relationship, and both of them knew it.

Sarah however refused to pander to Jim's weakness.  She would get him out
of the safety of his armchair, and make him attend to all the little
household jobs which needed doing, such as re-hanging the hallway door,
which hadn't closed properly since they'd had a new carpet fitted three
years earlier.  Yes, Sarah had enjoyed her visit, the same couldn't be said
for Jim, though.  He had made sure the old witch had been driven to the
railway station in plenty of time to catch her train.

As the train made its way through the many cuttings and tunnels as it
travelled through the Pennines, the hills which separate the counties of
Lancashire and Yorkshire, Sarah began to think who she could employ at the
house to help with the never ending cleaning.  Her minds eye fell upon Jean
Rowlands.  Sarah knew that Jean, a woman in her early forties was
trustworthy and wouldn't be too difficult to lick into shape.  She'd been
mulling over Robbie's suggestion of employing more help for some days.
Sarah had given it her utmost consideration, but many of the local women
with whom she had regular contact were rejected for one or another reason.
Sarah knew of Robbie's homosexuality; she could never understand why the
word 'gay' had been adopted.  Therefore she didn't want anyone in the house
who would be likely to gossip amongst the townsfolk.  It was rumoured that
Jean had a son who was gay; he was grown now and lived in Manchester, but
like any good attentive son, he kept in regular contact with his mother.
Sarah knew that Jean had an evening job cleaning the offices at the
glassworks, and it was possible that she might want to either extend her
hours to come and clean at the house too, or maybe she'd consider leaving
her current job altogether.  Sarah determined that first thing in the
morning she'd approach Jean.  The two often met up at the Post Office on a
Monday, Sarah to collect her own old age pension, Jean to get her mother's.
This decided upon, Sarah settled back in her seat to enjoy the rest of the
journey.

* * * * *

"Good weekend?"  Robbie asked once the older lady was safely belted into
his car.

"Oh, not bad.  Though why my sister married that gormless lump, I'll never
know.  I had to chivvy him into action all weekend, otherwise he'd have
just sat in his armchair and watched the world go by."

As Sarah rattled off the failings of Jim Mortimer, Robbie smiled to himself
at the merry dance he was sure Jim had suffered that weekend.

The two soon drew up outside the house.  Robbie let Sarah out, and then he
drove the car round to the rear of the place where the garage was situated.
When Robbie entered the house, he went straight into the kitchen where he
knew Sarah would be brewing a pot of tea.

To be continued.