We hardly ever speak. Probably not for over two years. My brother, that is. But then, one Sunday morning he rings to ask a favour. I am intrigued. He has a eighteen year old son doing "A" levels – maths, physics and economics - apparently. Stuart is his name. I think hard to remember him. My brother's marriage only lasted two years – I think Stuart was to blame for the marriage, if you get what I mean.
Well, Stuart is looking to go to university. Not far from where I live is the University of the West of England or UWE or You-eee as it's pronounced around here. He wants me to put him up for two nights while he visits the university. I think about protesting. But my kind heart (and not to mention my curiosity) got the better of me and the next thing we were arranging dates, pick-ups and swapping mobiles.
He came on a Thursday in early December. I met him from the train station – Bristol Parkway. Not the nicest way to arrive in the city on a cold, damp and dark night. He arrived at about 7.30 in the evening and I bundled him and his single bag into my little car and we set off for the short trip. His first words are to thank me for my hospitality. I can see some of my brother in him. He is lean, fit and looks quite cute. And when he smiles, he will melt a few hearts
Despite the early warning phone call, my preparations are, as usual non-existent. Food supplies in the house would barely feed a mouse so my first suggestion is to tear round to our local Chinese. He smiles at my suggestion and I decide that we should eat out. The restaurant is ok. It's by a pub and not too far. We reach it without any problem and scuttle inside as the rain starts to fall.
We get a nice secluded table and we order from the "set meals" – making selection easy. I can now take a close look at my nephew. He is about 5ft 6. Light brown, sandy hair, cut in a neat and tidy style. Better than most students who look like they are groomed by sheep shearers. He is dressed well. A nice casual shirt is covered with a well cut jacket. And his smile. He ladles on the charm like our slender Chinese waitress doles out the fried rice. We talk about his father and I tell him some of the things that we did as children (leaving out some of the more interesting stuff). I wonder what information his father will have shared with him!
We finish the meal and order coffees. Our conversation has moved on through what I do for a living (he seems overly interested in the bikini lines) and I gently probe his own story. He keeps me amused with him tales. I take some delight that he seems to find my cleavage as interesting as the bikini lines. Eventually we go, and I drive back to my house.
It is late. Well past ten when we open the door and crash onto the sofa. I give him a quick tour, explaining that his 'bedroom' is now my studio and that he will have to crash on the sofa. He doesn't seem fazed by this and we decide on a night cap. I have only had a couple of glasses of wine – he had a beer in the restaurant. He seems delighted with my offer of a brandy and I pour two over-generous glasses. Our conversation continues and I get some old videos I have of my brother and I, originally shot on cine film. We laugh at lot at the sight of the two kids, playing in the back garden of our parents' home so long ago.
I woke up a couple of hours later. The warmth of the house and the drink had probably done for me ...and for Stuart who is also asleep on the sofa. I tried to make him comfortable but without much success and I stumbled to bed, leaving him asleep, softly breathing.
For the second time I awoke with a start. I heard a noise and was immediately terrified. I knew there had been burglaries locally, some with violence. Then I remembered Stuart. Another crash made me jump. I got out of bed and found him, half awake, in the total darkness in the bathroom.
'Are you ok?' I asked.
'Yea.' He replied. 'I needed to pee and was trying not to wake you. I dropped this.'
He pointed to a bottle of some sort, now laying in the bath with the liquid starting to dribble from the top. Nothing important. I righted it and turned to him. He was undressed. Well partially. He wore his boxer short and nothing else. He was also frozen.
'My God. You are freezing!' I exclaimed, rubbing my hand down his goose-bumped arm. 'Come with me' I said, taking his hand and taking him to my bed.
