CHAPTER ONE
Remember
You Must Die
āItās a good size for a dining room,ā said the builder and decorator, who had said to call him Tony. āBut then, I donāt suppose you have family meals anymore. No one does.āāSunday,ā said Matt. āAnd anytime thereās something on offer the children particularly like.ā
āHow many you got?ā
āThree. Theyāre my partnerās.ā
The man nodded. He was used to all kinds of permutations and variations. In fact, he often reckoned the decline of the stable family had been wonderful for his business.
Matt stood in the center of the big room, unconscious for the moment of Tony, or of anything else except the house. It struck him that he and the house were at a crucial moment in their existence: the house had nothing of him, or of Aileen, but it did have him there, considering, determining its future. And his own.
He loved it. Standing outside in the lane waiting for Tony he had felt his heart contract at the mere sight of the stone. Stone. Solid, thick, permanent stone. Outside he had heard a radio, loud, from next door through an open window. Inside he heard nothing. And here it was, waiting, with its wood-burning fireplace, its bell push to summon the long-gone servant, its tentative moves in the direction of Art Deco. Eighty years old or more. Waiting for what he, Aileen, and the children were going to make of it. A strange thought struck him. He wondered if a stone house like this might have kept his marriage together.
Thank God it hadnāt.
āWhat color were you thinking of?ā Tony asked.
āI thought blueānot too strong. The windows arenāt that large, and itās a long room, so we need something pleasant and airy.ā
āBlue. Youāre thinking of paint, then?ā
āIāll have wallpaper if I find something that I know is rightāsomething that grabs me round the throat.Otherwise Iāll have paint till I find something. Anyway, I like paint: clean colors and clean surfaces.ā
Tony nodded, and as they went into the hallway he said, āI wish I could say Iād seen you play.ā
Matt shrugged.
āWhy would you? Youād be a Leeds United man. There was no great reason seven or eight years ago to make the effort to see Bradford City play.ā
āSeven or eight years ago there was no great reason to go and see Leeds United play. Dullest football* in the north was what they served up then.ā He thought, and thenadded, āMind you, the new managerās making a world of difference.ā
āHeās good with the media too,ā agreed Matt. āDoes one of the best interviews of anyone in the Premier League.ā
Tony shot him a quick look, then slapped his thigh.
āGot you! Youāre on Radio Leeds. Matthew Harper. I was thrown by the āMatt.āā
Matt smiled and nodded, used to the delayed reaction.
āThatās right. I thought Iād take my full name, especially once they started using me for ordinary news-reading and chat shows.ā
āI donāt hear it that often, I must admit. I go more for music, me. And I never connected the name with the footballer. But I have seen you now and then on āLook North.āā
Matt noted that the man, who had shown since he had arrived the sort of casual deference usual to a customer, was now positively respectful. Matt knew from experience that anyone involved with the media, on however low a level, received the degree of deference formerly given to members of the professions. He had got beyond the phase of feeling flattered by unearned respect, so he said briskly, āLetās go upstairs, shall we? . . . I wonāt be getting the bedrooms done till weāre well settled in. I may even try to do some of it myself, may be get the children to help.ā They had gone round the bend in the staircase and were standing on the landing. Tony poked his head into the bedrooms, bathroom, and lavatory.
āBest leave the bathroom to professionals,ā he said. āToo fiddly by half. The bedrooms wonāt present too many problems. Stick to paint there, if you want my advice: then if the children keep wanting theirs changed it wonāt come too expensive.ā
āYes, Iād already thought of that. Knowing my lot and their clothes and toys and reading matter and habits, theyāll want them changed at least once a year.ā
āBy āeck, they have it made, the young āuns these days,ā said Tony with feeling.
āYes, Iād love to know who starts each new vogue. What infant genius suddenly decrees itās yellow this year, and Aussie soaps are out, and shoe soles are three inches high, and the whole childish world bows agreement and starts pestering parents.ā
āProbably some future Richard Branson,ā agreed Tony. āAnyway, youāve got four very nice-sized rooms here. Thatās the advantage of these older houses: youāre not squashed in like sardines. When was it built, did you say?ā
āAbout 1920, the estate agent said, or may be a bit earlier. Did you see the bells downstairs to summon the servants? I suppose the First World War or its aftermath did away with all that.ā
āHappen. Anyway, the kids who go into these new estates wonāt get bedrooms like theseācubbyholes more like. And certainly not one each.ā
Matt grimaced.
āHmm. I was hoping to keep one of the bedrooms for my study. You might not think it to listen to, but a lot of the things I do on Radio Leeds need preparation. It would be good to have somewhere I can shut myself away in.ā
āSo, two of the kids sharing a bedroom, and one having a bedroom to him- or herself. Sounds like a recipe for nonstop guerrilla warfare to me. And I speak from experience.ā
āI was hoping to bribe them by promising them the attic as a games room.ā
Tony still looked skeptical.
āHave you looked at it?ā
āJust poked my head through the trapdoor.ā
āAttics are fine for games rooms if you are thinking of things like Monopoly or Trivial Pursuitāthings you can play on the floor. Theyāre pretty useless for snookerā tables, or anything you have to stand up for, even supposing you could get a table up there. Want me to have a look?ā
āWould you?ā Matt took the pole with the hook on the end, clicked open the trapdoor, then pulled down the metal stairs and tugged at the light cord. He led the way up.
āThereās proper flooring down, but itās pretty old, and I donāt know that Iād trust it.ā
He stood...