Edward Aubyn - The Patrick Melrose Novels - Never Mind, Bad News, Some Hope, and Mother's Milk

JOSH PACKER WAS A boy in Robert’s class at school. He had decided (all on his own) that they were best friends. Nobody else could understand why they were inseparable, least of all Robert. If he could have broken away from Josh for long enough he would definitely have made another best friend, but Josh followed Robert round the playground, copied out his spelling tests, and dragged him back to his house for tea. All Josh did outside school was watch television. He had sixty-five channels, whereas Robert only had the free ones. Josh’s parents were very rich, so he often had amazing new toys before anyone else had even heard of them. For his last birthday he had been given a real electric jeep, with a DVD player and a miniature television. He drove it round the garden, squashing the flowers and trying to run over Arnie, his dog. Eventually, he crashed into a bush and he and Robert sat in the rain watching the miniature television. When he came round to Robert’s flat he said how pathetic the toys were and complained that he was bored. Robert tried to make up games with him but he didn’t know how to make things up. He just pretended to be a television character for about three seconds, and then fell over and shouted, ‘I’m dead.’

Jilly, Josh’s mother, had telephoned the day before to say that she and Jim had rented a fabulous house in Saint-Tropez for the whole of August, and why didn’t Robert’s family come over for a day of fun and games. His parents said it would be good for him to spend a day with someone of his own age. They said it would be an adventure for them as well, because they had only met Josh’s parents once, at the school sports day. Even then Jim and Jilly were too busy making rival movies of Josh’s races to talk much. Jilly showed them how her videocam could make the whole thing go in slow motion, which wasn’t really necessary as Josh came in last anyway.

Now that they were actually on their way, Robert’s father was ranting at the wheel of the car. He seemed to be much grumpier since Julia had left. He couldn’t believe that they were spending a day of their precious holiday in a traffic jam, in a heatwave, crawling into this ‘world-famous joke of a town’.

Robert was sitting next to Thomas, who was in his old baby chair facing the wrong way, with only the stained fabric of the back seat to entertain him. Robert made barking noises as he climbed Thomas’s leg with a small toy dog. Thomas couldn’t have been less interested. Why should he be? thought Robert. He hasn’t seen a real dog yet. Mind you, if he was only curious about things he’d seen before, he’d still be trapped in a whirlpool of birth-room lights.

When they finally found the right street, Robert was the one who spotted the tilted script of ‘ Les Mimosas ’ scrawled across a rustic tile. They thrummed down the ribbed concrete to a parking lot already congested with Jim’s private motor show: a black Range Rover, a red Ferrari and an old cream convertible with cracked leather seats and bulbous chrome fenders. His father found a space for their Peugeot next to a giant cactus, its serrated tongues sticking out in every direction.

‘A neo-Roman villa decorated by a disciple of Gauguin’s syphilitic twilight,’ said his father. ‘What more could one ask?’ He slipped into his golden advertising voice, ‘Situated in St Tro-pay’s most prestigious gated community, only six hours’ drive from Brigitte Bardot’s legendary pet cemetery—’

‘Sweetheart,’ interrupted his mother.

There was a tap on the window.

‘Jim!’ said his father warmly, as he wound down the window.

‘We’re just off to buy some inflatables for the pool,’ said Jim, lowering the videocam with which he’d been filming their arrival. ‘Does Robert want to come along?’

Robert glanced at Josh slumped in the back of the Range Rover. He could tell that he was playing with his GameBoy.

‘No, thanks,’ he said. ‘I’ll help unpack the car.’

‘You’ve got him well trained, haven’t you?’ said Jim. ‘Jilly’s poolside, catching some rays. Just follow the garden path.’

They walked through a whitewashed colonnade daubed with Pacific murals, and down a spongy lawn towards the pool, perfectly concealed under a flotilla of inflatable giraffes, fire engines, footballs, racing cars, hamburgers, Mickeys, Minnies and Goofys, his father lopsided by the baby chair in which Thomas still slept, and his mother like a mule, her sides bulging with bags. Jilly lay stunned on a white and yellow sunbed, flanked by two glistening strangers, all three of them in wigs of Walkman and mobile-phone wires. His father’s shadow roused Jilly as it fell across her baking face.

‘Hi, there!’ she said, unhooking her headphones. ‘I’m sorry, I was in a world of my own.’

She got up to greet her guests, but was soon staggering backwards, staring at Thomas, a hand sprawled over her heart.

‘Oh, my God,’ she gasped, ‘your new one is beautiful. I’m sorry, Robert,’ she dug her long shiny nails into his shoulders to help steady him, ‘I don’t want to fan the flames of sibling rivalry, but your little brother is something really special. Aren’t you a special one?’ she said, swooping down towards Thomas. ‘He’s going to make you dead jealous,’ she warned his mother, ‘with all the girls throwing themselves at his feet. Look at those eyelashes! Are you going to have another one? If mine looked like that, I’d have at least six. I sound greedy, don’t I? But I can’t help it, he’s so love-ly. He’s made me forget myself, I haven’t introduced you to Christine and Roger yet. As if they cared. Look at them, they’re in a world of their own. Go on, wake up!’ She pretended to kick Roger. ‘Roger’s a business partner of Jim’s,’ she filled them in, ‘and Christine’s from Australia. She’s four months pregnant.’

She shook Christine awake.

‘Oh, hi,’ said Christine, ‘have they arrived?’

Jilly introduced everybody.

‘I was just telling them about the pregnancy,’ she explained to Christine.

‘Oh, yeah. Actually, I think we’re in major denial about it,’ said Christine. ‘I just feel a little heavier, that’s all, as if I’d drunk four litres of Evian, or something. I mean, I don’t even feel sick in the mornings. The other day Roger said, “Do you wanna go skiing in January? I’ve got to be in Switzerland on business anyway,” and I said, “Sure, why not?” We’d both forgotten that that’s the week I’m supposed to be giving birth!’

Jilly hooted with laughter and rolled her eyes skywards.

‘I mean, is that absent-minded, or what?’ said Christine. ‘Mind you, pregnancy really does your brain in.’

‘Look at them,’ said Jilly, pointing to Robert’s mother and father, ‘they’re absolutely gobsmacked – they’re loving parents.’

‘So are we,’ protested Christine. ‘You know how we are with Megan. Megan’s our two-year-old,’ she explained to the guests. ‘We’ve left her with Roger’s mother. She’s just discovered rage – you know the way they discover emotions and then work them for all they’re worth, until they get on to the next one.’

‘How interesting,’ said Robert’s father, ‘so you don’t think emotions have anything to do with how a child is feeling – they’re just layers in an archaeological dig. When do they discover joy?’

‘When you take them to Legoland,’ said Christine.

Roger woke up groggily, clasping his earpiece.

‘Oh, hi. Sorry, I’ve got a call.’

He got up and started to pace the lawn.

‘Have you brought your nanny?’ asked Jilly.

‘We haven’t got one,’ said Robert’s mother.

‘That’s brave,’ said Jilly. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without Jo. She’s only been with us a week and she’s already part of the family. You can dump your lot on her, she’s marvellous.’