‘I really am fine,’ Humphrey said in the corridor, ‘I just got old by accident.’
Silver
‘THE SILVERFISH ARE back.’
I thought I’d fallen out of bed. I felt a rush of sudden descent and an imminent ground swooping up to hit me.
I sat up, gasping for breath.
‘Sorry, I didn’t realize. I thought—’
It took me a moment to see the man standing in front of me. He was wearing jeans and a shirt underneath a smart blue jumper.
‘Father Arthur?’ I whispered.
‘Hello, Lenni,’ he whispered, because I was whispering.
‘You’re wearing jeans.’
‘I know.’
‘You look so …’
He smiled. ‘Yes?’
‘Different. It’s like a dog walking on its hind legs.’
He laughed. ‘It’s good to see you, Lenni.’ He took a seat at my bedside and tried not to disturb the new equipment I was attached to.
‘How long has it been?’ I asked.
‘A few weeks.’ He seemed embarrassed. ‘I’ve been at a conference. I, er, told some of my colleagues about you. I hope that’s okay?’
‘What did they say?’
‘They were very interested. I told them about your one hundred paintings. They thought it was a very meaningful endeavour.’
‘So I’m famous now?’
‘Among a group of recently retired priests, yes.’
‘That’s always been the dream.’
He laughed.
‘You know, I finished my seventeenth painting.’
‘You did?’
‘I did.’
‘So what did you paint to commemorate your seventeenth year?’
‘I think it might be my best one. I did one hundred hearts on a white canvas. Eighty-three of them in purple, seventeen in pink.’
‘To represent you and Margot?’
‘Exactly.’
‘It’s good to see you, Lenni,’ he said again.
I took a coughing break then. Father Arthur poured some water into my cup and handed it to me. The first sip went down smoothly, but then some of it got caught, and I coughed harder and had to catch the water dribbling out of my mouth in the cup.
Arthur was doing a terrible job of not looking at me like I was terrifying him.
‘Do I look ill?’
‘I, um.’
‘That’s a yes, then.’
‘I was taught a long time ago never to remark on a lady’s appearance.’ He smiled, but it was a sad smile.
‘So, the silverfish?’ I asked, once I’d swallowed some of the watery glue.
‘Ah, yes. I was dusting the bathroom and—’
‘Dusting?’
‘Sorry?’
‘It’s just … how dusty can a bathroom get?’
‘Well, mine’s never dusty. Because I dust it.’
When I laughed, he leant back in the plastic visitor’s chair as though it were a deep, cushioned armchair – comfortable, absorbing. I almost expected it to absorb him into its folds. Or to create some folds and then welcome him in.
‘Shall I tell you the story?’ he asked.
I nodded and he began, giving me an eye not to interrupt when he started again with ‘I was dusting the bathroom’。
I said nothing and he carried on. ‘I promised Mrs Hill that, as she isn’t allowed to bleach the floor, I would take over all cleaning responsibilities for the bathroom. “Unhealthy,” she kept calling it, “it’s unhealthy to have the floor covered in germs.” I asked her how she could be certain that the germs were even there, and she told me that she just knew. I told her I was worried about what the bleach might do to the silverfish. She asked me how I could even know they were there, and I told her I just knew. She laughed and let me be.
‘So I was dusting the bathroom, making sure not to disturb the part of the skirting board where the silverfish like to come in, and I saw one – underneath the sink, if you can believe it! The sink is a fair way away from the door, especially for something of a silverfish’s size. I watched him slither under the bin for safety and I retreated, whispering that I meant no harm, turning off the light and closing the door, and hoping that he would make it home to tell his friends that I come in peace.’
I smiled.
‘I’m not going mad,’ he said.
‘Of course not.’
‘I just feel I ought to protect them.’
I nodded. He sighed.
‘Would you like the truth?’ he asked.
‘Always.’