The Hidden Man - Charles Cumming [51]
But this was a step too far. The question actually embarrassed Mark. He hid his discomfort by opening up a nearby cupboard and pretending to rearrange the rusty tins and damp packets inside. ‘No,’ he replied eventually, ‘it’s not beyond the realms of possibility. Listen, I’m in a hurry. Was there something that you wanted?’
And this gave Ben the opportunity that he had been seeking. Turning from the window, he said, ‘No, the will’s straight forward. Everything to you. We’ve been through it.’
So that’s what this is about.
‘Look, I’ve already told you. We can halve everything. The flat. The money. All his stuff. You just have to say the word.’
‘Forget it. I don’t want to do that thing with Mum where we went through every room, dividing everything up…’
‘He only left it to me because he didn’t know you. He probably thought you would give it away or something.’
‘Probably thought?’ Ben picked on the phrase as if it carried some sort of significance. It was now obvious to Mark that he was looking for a fight.
‘Sorry, am I supposed to know what he was thinking? Tell me, brother, and let’s be honest about this. If things hadn’t worked out the way they had, if Dad had just been run over by a bus six months ago, what would you have done with forty-five grand in cash and a tiny fucking flat in Paddington?’
He waited for an answer. Ben remained silent.
‘Well, there you go. You would have given it to me, or to Alice to pay her backfor whatever you owe her.’
He should not have said that. A mistake. Ben’s face tightened into retaliation.
‘I don’t owe Alice anything, OK? I make money out of my work. Whatever her dad gives her is between them. It has nothing to do with me or with anybody else.’
‘Sure. Right. I’m sorry.’
Ben moved past him, his shoulder brushing Mark’s chest. They went into the sitting room.
‘That’s obviously what he was thinking, though.’
Following him, Mark said, ‘What was that?’
‘He knew that kind of money could really help me out. He knew all about Alice’s family, the imbalance between us. It was just spite.’
Now Mark raised his voice.
‘Oh get off it, will you? You and I both know that’s a lot of shit. The will was altered for the last time over a year ago. He didn’t know anything about Alice’s family. He wasn’t striking out at you from beyond the grave, or whatever kind of conspiracy theory you’re trying to cookup.’
Ben’s eyes conceded the truth of this, but he said nothing.
‘Listen,’ Mark tried to end the argument. ‘Dad was proud of the fact that you were making a living doing the thing you loved. He told me that. Please just take his money. Buy yourself a couple of suits, take Alice on holiday and sort out whatever it is you two are fighting about. Seb pays me eighty grand a year. I have my own flat. I’ve got equity, a company car, all the clothes and gadgets a bloke could need. You’re a married man. You might have kids soon. Think about that.’
‘Always so organized,’ Ben muttered.
‘Eh?’
‘Always thinking about the future. Always an answer for everything.’
‘Well, at least one of us has his head out of the clouds.’
‘And that’s you, is it, Mark? Tell me, has this thing got to you at all?’
They might have been teenagers again, bickering in the school holidays. The exchange was a graphic illustration of their relationship: Mark doing his best to push forward out of the past while justifying his more practical nature to an incessantly analytical brother who preferred blame and self-pity.
‘What? Are we competing about Dad now? Who’s more fucked up? Who’s losing most sleep? You think I have to stand in a window looking moody and smoking a cigarette or I’m not grieving properly?’
It wasn’t a bad comeback. Mark was quite pleased with it. For a moment Ben was silenced, although the respite did not last long.